Parfumerie Générale Brûlure De Rose: A Plethora Of Post-it Notes Prompts A Proxy Perfume Purchase

Okay, so I know I said that my very next post after my account of the Parfumerie Générale talk was going to be on bubble wrap. I realise that countless* readers (see footnote) who had been eagerly anticipating another feature on packaging materials may deem not one but TWO Pierre Guillaume posts in quick succession to be a completely unwarranted diversion from the promised theme. Yes, Pierre Guillaume is a creative genius with a large back catalogue of intriguing and unusual scents to his credit; yes, he is easy on the eye - or even stronger than that - hmm, what could be stronger than "easy"? Okay...yes, he is incredibly simple and straightforward on the eye - but at the end of the day, as a versatile protective packaging material Pierre Guillaume doesn't really cut it. Or wrap it, even. Let's face it, his iPhone doesn't even have a cover.

And to make matters worse, this post isn't even that one! No, it struck me that in the interests of chronology - a concept to which Bonkers is known to pay scant lip service at best - it might not go amiss to rewind to a couple of days before the talk: I invited my friend S round to have a play with my perfume collection, which resulted in her taking home samples of some 20 new perfumes which caught her fancy, including one that she had a sudden and burning desire to own...Brûlure de Rose.

In preparing for S's visit, I got out most of my full bottles (except for the albatrosses, which remained confined to their refrigerated quarters), together with some decants and samples in all the main scent styles I like, and plonked the whole lot on the dining room table. I then proceeded to arrange them (largely instinctively) in groups based on very loose fragrance categories, labelling them with Post-it notes for ease of reference.

I knew that S owned Serge Lutens Un Bois Vanille, but beyond that I had no pointers as to her taste. Shortly after we sat down, S explained that she had worn Chanel No 5 in the past and still liked it, so I decided to park the vanilla scent group for the moment and dive straight into the "Aldehydes". I was surprised to learn that my collection featured quite a number of "aldehyde-forward" scents, from Ines de la Fressange to Balenciaga Le Dix, and two of these - Esprit d'Oscar and Chanel No 5 Eau Première - were an instant hit with my friend.

Inevitably there was a good deal of crossover between some of the groupings: spicy vanillas (eg DSH Cimabue!), vanilla and incense combos, woody-patchouli-amber-vanillas and so on, but where possible I tried to use headings that captured the dominant aspect of any given scent. Seeing my collection physically organised in front of me - sadly, there are no "before" pictures - only ones of the chaotic scene afterwards by which time the categories had got thoroughly jumbled up! - brought home to me in particular how much I love "powdery roses". (S also liked three here: Brûlure de Rose itself of course - which isn't even powdery to be honest, but it wasn't worth starting a splinter category just for "gourmand roses" - plus Floris Snow Rose and Rose Kashmirie.) I am also a big fan of vanillas and woody orientals, flanked by one or two leather or spicy numbers. In the spring and summer I enjoy florals of all kinds from polite office scents to the occasional dirty diva, and am also well catered for on the citrus side of things.

Here is the complete list of (very forgiving!) categories:

CITRUS
ORANGE
FIG
GREEN
TEA
SPICY!
LEATHER
MUSK
ALDEHYDES
FRUITY FLORAL
BIG SKANKY FLORAL "DIVAS"
OTHER FLORAL ("FAIRLY BIG")
POWDERY ROSE
IRIS ("OFFICE SCENTS")
"OFFICE SCENTS" MISCELLANEOUS
AMBER
VANILLA
WOOD / INCENSE / PATCHOULI / "DARK" - I was clearly starting to give up at this point

Somewhere I jotted down the complete list of samples S took away from our session, but I can't put my hand on it for the moment. It was mostly spread across the vanilla (clean, not barnyard), aldehydes, woody/patch/incense, powdery rose and "fairly big" floral categories, with a general success rate of about 60-65% at a rough guess and only one or two out and out scrubbers amongst the scents I gave S to try. (For example, though I had high hopes of the tobacco note in Cartier L'Heure Fougueuse following the wild success that was Vanille Absolument, it proved to be unequivocably wrong on S's skin, and she likened it to the smell of "a tack room" crossed with "a specimen bottle". At that time we were both unaware that the Cartier actually contained a "horsetail" note!)

And then on Monday, following my return from London, S finally took custody of her new bottle of Brûlure de Rose, which she had asked me to buy for her.

The review of Brûlure de Rose that precipitated my own interest in this scent and subsequent purchase was this one by Marina on PST, and here is one by Olfactoria which I missed last summer when I was away on business. I don't really get any green "early morning" stage with this scent, though I know that it is supposed to evoke the evolution of the rose at different times of day. On me Brûlure de Rose is pretty dark, sweet and sultry from the off. The views on Basenotes are polarised on this one, and my dear friend lovethescents didn't care for it at all. It reminded her of a brand of lip salve, so it isn't everyone's cup of tea, though I love it as much as S.

So looking back, the Post-it note and bottle frenzy led to a satisfactory outcome all round: my friend found a new fragrance love, while I got a kiss from Pierre Guillaume when I showed him the bag as evidence of my purchase. Now that is what I call a good deal.

*For "countless" read zero... : - )

Photo of cake from Wikimedia Commons, photo of Brûlure de Rose from fragrantica.com, other photos my own

Talk By Pierre Guillaume At Les Senteurs: Learning The Specifics Of Parfumerie Générale - Part 2

Right, so where on earth do we go next after the incredible Coze licking demonstration? I could mention that there was lively debate amongst the audience as we discussed the correct English term for the type of sugar we detected in Sucre d'Ebène (the scent also featuring PG's favourite macrocyclic musk, if you recall): "Demerara", "muscovado" and just plain "brown" were three possible contenders.

Bestial scents

Or I could tell you that Pierre Guillaume referred to L'Ombre Fauve with its distinctive earthy notes of Amber 83, patchouli and musk as "liquid sex". He also described it as "very dirty" - quoting Francis Kurkdjian, and replicating the gesture more commonly seen on football terraces which FK used to describe his own creation, Cologne Pour Le Soir. And none of that is surprising really, given that the name of L'Ombre Fauve roughly translates as "bestial shadow".

So moving on swiftly on from raunch to another upcoming launch...

Corps & Âmes EDT Apaisante

There will only be one new Limited Edition scent released in the main PG line this year, a reworking of Corps & Âmes, called Corps & Âme EDT Apaisante, "apaisante" meaning "soothing" or "calming" in French. The original Corps & Âme reminds me very much of the civet cloud that is YSL Y, while the new LE - a chypre with notes of geranium, lemon verbena, jasmine sambac and a patchouli heart - had a slightly acerbic citrus / herbal opening, on card at least, and I wouldn't have said they were all that closely related. In fact I detected echoes of Guerlain Sous Le Vent (which PG said he would take as a compliment, when we were discussing our initial impressions). Then PG agreed with those who spotted a resemblance to Aromatics Elixir as the scent wore on. To give uplift to the chypre structure, the new version of Corps & Âmes will contain a linear musk called Serenolide, developed by Philip Kraft, German fragrance chemist with Givaudan.

PG's favourite scent from the Huitième Art range

"The new one!" (ie the "Polywood" blockbuster featured in Part 1).

Finding the balance between commercial success and creative freedom

PG talked about the fact that he has to strike a balance between following his muse in creative terms, producing scents that challenge and interest him personally, while ensuring that there are some more "commercial" perfumes in the mix (this is of course a relative term when applied to a niche brand). The latter can be relied upon to generate sales, including the funding of his more edgy creations such as Papyrus de Ciane, the scent that he is most proud of as a technical achievement.

Scents by other perfumers PG wishes he had created himself

- YSL M7

- Thierry Mugler Womanity (he admires its huge power of diffusion: "I think we will talk differently about it in 10 years' time")

- Lolita Lempicka au Masculin by Annick Mennardo ("she is the mistress of diffusion")

Thoughts on the fragrance market and why small doesn't equal niche

PG singled out a couple of mainstream scents which had particularly impressed him - JPG Kokorico and Terre d'Hermès - describing them as "a few pieces in an ocean of new launches". He finds the co-existence of mainstream and exclusive ranges within houses such as Tom Ford, Dior, Hermès, Chanel etc bewildering - "I am lost" - and assumes the public must be equally confused by these two-tier marketing strategies. PG also laments the fact that certain perfume brands are springing up which - on account of their small size - automatically position themselves as niche. PG doesn't feel this necessarily follows, and considers some of these ranges to be overpriced.

"That is not my version of niche. (By comparison) I am the discount of the niche!"

The PG distribution strategy and why small is beautiful

PG's distribution strategy is to limit the numbers of points of sale and grow the business slowly, as the use of distributors can lead to loss of control and dilution of the brand. This explains why, a year ago, I had been surprised to see the main PG line carried in a small independent perfumery in Holland, yet when I went back last autumn it had mysteriously vanished from the store.

How many tests does it take to develop a fragrance?

Not as many as you might think. PG cited the case of a perfume house which advertised the fact that some 500 tests/iterations had gone into the creation of one of its scents. PG puts this down to marketing spin, and gave 60 as a more typical number, while Intrigant Patchouli he got right first time!

"A good perfumer doesn't need that many tests."

Falling in love with fragrance and why "we are all reptiles on the Discovery Channel"

Actually, PG didn't actually quote this song lyric, or even the original version with "animals" in it, but he did say that the act of falling in love with a perfume is involuntary and more or less instantaneous. He explained how the process is governed by the hypothalamus in the brain and described it as "reptilian", leaning in towards the audience to emphasise his point, like a crocodile eyeing its prey. I have just googled "reptilian brain" and looks to me as though the limbic system may be more where the action is at, but I am not one to split hairs (or cut them in four, as the French say).

I interjected that we sometimes fall in love (with a perfume or a person, indeed) only to fall out of it again pretty smartly, as the scales - to stay with our reptilian theme - fall from our eyes, and we realise we made an expensive mistake...

Pierre Guillaume and Francis Kurkdjian - a whiff of bromance?

PG and Francis Kurkdjian are not exact contemporaries - PG is 35, FK 42 - and PG described their relationship as competitive but friendly. "We fight a little bit...and we go to the same place in Spain for our holidays."

It was in fact Francis Kurkdjian, who, on smelling Coze, PG's first creation, encouraged him to pursue a career in perfumery.

They also both attended the recent awards ceremony in Paris, where the order of “Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres” - an honorary title granted to those who have made outstanding contributions in the arts world - was bestowed upon five perfumers chosen from each of the main fragrance and flavour houses. (Kurkdjian had already received this award in 2009.) PG described it as an emotional occasion punctuated by episodes of horseplay and banter: Dominique Ropion took a photograph of the Minister of Culture, while Maurice Roucel amused the audience with his trademark spoonerisms.

The talk overran considerably - PG was so diligent about fielding questions that (as I later learned) he and the Les Senteurs team missed their dinner reservation. At the end of the night I saw him sitting quietly on a sofa at the back of the store and went over to say thank you and to show him the bottle of Brûlure de Rose I had bought on behalf of a friend whom I had just introduced to the scent. He stood up and kissed me on both cheeks in that gallant way the French do. The "bi-cheek bise" made my night, and it occurred to me that though I hadn't associated any particular memories with the main - supposedly "talkative" - PG fragrance line prior to the talk, I surely would now.

And my iPhone hasn't been in its cover since...

Oh, and today I realised that my phone is not the only link with the whole PG experience - he mentioned that Ambre Ceruléen was inspired by the so-called "cerulean speech" in The Devil Wears Prada, in which Miranda teases Andie about her ignorance of the precise colour of her old sweater:

"But what you don't know is that that sweater is not just blue, it's not turquoise. It's not lapis. It's actually cerulean."

Well, as it happens, I own a (distressed PVC) replica of the messenger bag worn by Andie - a gift from a friend who works in PR. It isn't blue, sadly, but I think I have enough memories of the talk to be going on with...

Photo of bestiary, reptiles and the Palais Royal from Wikimedia Commons, photo of PG bottle from basenotes.net, photo of Anne Hathaway from fabsugar.com, other photos my own

Talk By Pierre Guillaume At Les Senteurs: Learning The Specifics Of Parfumerie Générale - Part 1

Pierre Guillaume and I have the same iPhone. No really, we do - we both have the white one - I mean, what are the chances of that? : - ) The other impressive thing about Pierre Guillaume's iPhone is that it doesn't have a cover! Yes, his phone goes "commando" and lives tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket. I find that remarkable - I wouldn't liken it exactly to jumping out of a plane without a parachute, which would suggest a reckless disregard for safety - rather, I think his coverless phone simply tells us that he takes great care of it, and I for one was impressed.

The talk at Les Senteurs' new store in Seymour Place was scheduled for 6.30pm last Thursday. I had arranged to meet Katie Puckrik earlier that afternoon, an unseasonably warm one that she had clearly brought over from LA with her, one-woman-catalyst for climate change that she is. I almost regretted wearing my "good coat", but figured it might get chilly later, and that I might need recourse to its sample-scoring powers at the Burberry Beauty counter in Harrods the following day (I never made it).

LISSON GROVE

I caught up with Katie in her former stomping ground in north London, where she lived for 16 years till the late 90s. We poked around some vintage clothes and antique shops and ambled through a street market, when our noses simultaneously detected the unmistakable scent of oud - burning oud, we reckoned. Try as we might, we couldn't locate the origin of this beguiling incense smell. The finger of suspicion was briefly pointed at the gaping mouth of a stuffed toy donkey and the golden cupola of a pink mosque-shaped clock, but neither of these items turned out to be the covert incense burner of my imaginings.

The next port of call was a large antiques market, where Katie's eye was drawn to vintage jewellery and lampshades, while I "fondled and replaced" some 30s gin glasses and cast longing looks at any artefact shaped like a pineapple (of which there were a surprising number - none of them portable or in my price range).

Before heading to the talk we had a sit down supper of fish and chips in a nearby diner, that had been considerably gentrified since Katie's last visit. The designer vinegar bottle had an Alessi look about it, the ketchup came in a white ramekin with a spoon, and the mushy peas had clearly never seen the inside of a can. Even Katie's cod had a jaunty flicky up tail to it, but it may just have been of athletic build.

LISSOM NOSE

At Les Senteurs, after drinks and general milling around ("circulation générale"?), we were ushered downstairs to a white basement area with seating for about 20-30. I had no idea there was a downstairs to Les Senteurs! Pierre Guillaume was already standing in position by a table on which was displayed the Huitième Art range, the opaque white ceramic bottles perfectly coordinating with the décor.

So how good looking is he in person, then?

Answer - very. However, his striking good looks are actually more approachable than I expected from the posed studio portraits you see of him on blogs. He looks like the most handsome boy in your class at school rather than Gillette Man or that supermodel in the boat in the D & G Light Blue ad.

And how charming is he on the charming-o-meter?

Comfortably off the scale, I would say. His strong French accent and occasional quaint turns of phrase or pronunciation (for example, "cooker" for "chef", "peer" for "pear", and "hurt" for "heart") only served to endear him further to his audience.

"Talkative" vs "stable & linear" scents

Pierre Guillaume (whose name - along with that of his company - I will henceforth shorten to PG except for specific punning references that may follow) started off by explaining the difference in conception behind the main PG range and the newer Huitième Art scents. He described the former as "talkative", because they tell a story, they evoke particular scent associations and memories in people's minds (with a picture, a face, a work of art etc); he drew an analogy with Proust's Madeleine episode in the novel "A La Recherche du Temps Perdu". In other words everyone's associations will be different.

By contrast, the Huitième Art range is more "stable" and "regular" - these are scents that can be enjoyed because they smell nice, basically. They are linear, but in a good way ie they do not have a shorter formulation just because their appeal is more straightforward. PG also likened the Huitième Art range to "classical plates of the menu" like Boeuf Bourgignon, as opposed to more avant-garde concoctions such as - he plucked a random example out of the air - "Fish & Licorice". Just as a good chef is judged by how well they can make these classic dishes, so PG invites scrutiny of his artistry in these less complicated compositions.

Capturing the "non-talkative" notes

But while the Huitième range may not be "talkative" in its conception ie linked to memory as such, it does have the special characteristic of exceptionally realistic notes: for example the pear note in Ciel d'Airain, the dewy blackcurrant note in Aube Pashmina, or the immortelle note in Fareb. (Scent strips were passed around to illustrate all the perfumes discussed.)

To take the case of Ciel d'Airain, its pear note was created by a combination of conventional aromachemicals and a very natural realistic extraction (created using phyto-perfumery technology) which casts a "natural shadow" over the chemicals. It was supplied by a company called Greentech, and rejoices in the jolly name of a "Fruitogreen".

(NB I couldn't help thinking that Pierre Guillaume's own name is pearilously close to "Poire Guillaume" or Williams Pear).

Whimsical titles

FAREB: we learnt that the name Fareb is in fact an acronym (in French at least): F for "fresh", A for "aromatic", R for "resinous", E for "spicy" and B for "woody". We all had a chuckle at this.

NAIVIRIS: "You are naive to think it is just about iris." For the iris used in this scent is in fact African red orris from the fruit of the kigelia africans tree: "it is an olfactory molecule from the skin of the fruit - like orris, but with spicy as a bonus". This offbeat iris note is combined with zebra wood, which has woody and animalic facets.

Whimsical images and chimeras

Moving on to the latest release, Myrrhiad, PG likened its heart accord to two lovers: a relatively new ingredient from Robertet - a complex "discoloured tea note absolute" - and myrrh. Together they are entwined on a bed of two vanillas, surrounded by a mist - or perhaps a canopy - of licorice. Interestingly, the licorice note is not actually in the composition, but is an olfactory impression or chimera that arises naturally during the scent's development. Another example PG gave us was the illusory note of "banana wood" in Felanilla, due to the fruity aspect of one of the saffron ingredients, Ethyl Safranate.

A "Polywood blockbuster": the new Huitième Art release

We were also given an advance preview - or presniff - of "Polywood", the code name for the upcoming addition to the Huitième Art line. It showcases no fewer than EIGHT different woody notes: four regular ones and four new ones. I asked PG if any perfumer had ever put more woody notes in a scent than this latest launch, and he said he couldn't say for sure, but thought he might be the first to use poplar wood absolute at least. The full cast list of this "Polywood blockbuster" is as follows:

cedar
vetiver
patchouli
sandalwood
poplar absolute
papyrus wood (aka nagamota oil)
incense wood (cedar wood oil + olibanum = "bois d'incens")
oakmoss absolute

Pierre Guillaume's favourite musk

Mangue Métisse, which includes notes of frangipani, tea and the white part of the bark of a mango tree, and which PG likened to an "exotic flower with exotic sugar inside", also contains a macrocyclic musk similar to the one used to great effect in Narciso Rodriguez for Her. Egyptian in origin, PG described it as "velvety smooth, linear and powerful", and declared it to be his favourite musk. (It also features in Sucre d'Ebène.) While we are on this subject, my favourite quote of the night, although I cannot remember the exact context (who needs context?) is: "I had not any more musks in my organ."

The incredible Coze licking demonstration

I was so stunned at the sight of PG spraying Coze on his wrist and licking it off again, that as with the musk quote, I have completely forgotten what that was all about. I jotted down his instructions: "Do it quickly, with a dry tongue", and the fact that it tasted a bit like wine (I think), but the original objective behind the demonstration - other than to raise the blood pressure of 110% of the audience at a conservative guess - escapes me. So if Bee or Katie or anyone else who attended the talk could explain the scientific principle behind this supremely sensual stunt, that would be great!

To be continued in Part 2...



Photos of a kigelia africana fruit tree and a chimera via Wikimedia Commons, photo of clock from simplyislam.com, photo of Alfie's market from anothermag.com, other photos my own

Doorstepping Nick Gilbert At The New Les Senteurs Store, And My Mona Di Orio Epiphany

The morning after the Perfume Lovers London event covered in my last post - well, more like lunchtime in fact by the time I had got my arse into gear - I doorstepped Nick briefly at the new branch of Les Senteurs. I have "previous" for doorstepping perfume people: there was that time with MyBeautyBlog in November, for example. Though in fairness Nick was half expecting me to turn up at some point.

The new branch of Les Senteurs is in a quiet Georgian street just a hop and a skip from Marble Arch tube station. It looks almost identical from the outside to the store in Belgravia on account of its regulation "Les Senteurs Blue" paint and potted bay trees. The colour is a rich petrol blue / teal, a few pantones down from Barclays Blue. Come to think of it, I have never seen petrol or the duck in question in that exact shade, but no matter.

Nick had a client with him for the first part of my visit, so I hovered on the sidelines for a while, before it became apparent that this gentleman was a regular customer, who was quite happy to chat and even allow himself to be sniffed at one point, while wearing PG Eau Guerrière.

First off I bought a bottle of Fracas for a friend with an upcoming milestone birthday, which I was glad to do, for my high ratio of sniffing to actual shopping does trouble me periodically. Business out of the way, I got down to a bit of sniffing, though I was mindful that I needed to leave some nostril capacity free for my Big Harrods Blitz with Tara straight afterwards, so I didn't go overboard.

Most scents were tested on card (where the usual massive caveats apply, especially following the incident with Dior Bois d'Argent, which turned out to be a totally different animal on skin vs card), but Nick kindly gave me samples of Mona di Orio Ambre and Tubéreuse to test at my leisure, along with Huitième Art Myrrhiad.

Right, so for what it is worth here is the low-down from my whistlestop testing:

Andy Tauer Pentachords

I didn't expect to get on with these at all for some reason, and in the event I didn't dislike them, but - a bit like the Andrea Maack range I tested in Basel - they were curious without striking me as being something I would want to wear. They don't have the trademark "Tauerade" medicinal wire wool vibe going on, so from that standpoint alone they were off to a flying start. I remember Verdant as unexpectedly minty, and Auburn as an offbeat spicy number, which put me vaguely in mind of DSH Nouroz (the Scent Formerly Known As Tamarind Paprika), and then White I can't bring to mind at all. Sorry - complete "white out". The fragrance strip smells sort of gourmand and reminiscent of JM Blue Agava & Cacao, but that could be the high quality paper used by Parfumerie Générale (to avert any confusion, I am not slavish about coordinating my blotter brands with the scent being tested!)

So those impressions - I won't even dignify them with the term mini-reviews - are highly suspect, but the non-Tauerade aspect should encourage anyone to try them who is not a fan of the usual Tauer style.

Then I had quite a strong reaction to the nozzles of a couple of scents, which I am sure would have been confirmed by a skin trial.

Les Parfums d'Empire Fougère Bengale - urinous curried straw (sorry, Dee, I know you rock this one, so you may have even more magic skin than Birgit, which is saying something!)

Mona di Orio Cuir - like the inside flap of a cheap leather satchel, only much worse

But hold on a minute, I said this post was about my Mona di Orio epiphany, right? Epiphanies are not supposed to be bad. Well indeed, and my 180 on this line - coming to appreciate it now that the post-traumatic stress of my Nuit Noire necklacing assault in Paris has at last subsided - started well before my visit to Les Senteurs in fact. For Birgit of Olfactorias Travels had given me a starter kit with several samples from Les Nombres d'Or, and I was already very taken with Musc. Then Nick sent me some more samples in January, including Vanille and Oud. The former struck me as a "true" vanilla ie with a slightly granular, burnt sugar smell, but not cloyingly so, while the latter was a wonderfully ethereal oud, perfect for someone as rampantly oud-averse as I am. The L'Artisan Timbuktu of ouds, if you will.

And now, with my sampling of Ambre and Tubéreuse - partly in store and later at home - the epiphany was confirmed and complete. I now LOVE five of the seven scents in the Les Nombres d'Or range. The vetiver one is also fine as it goes, but I am just not big on the note.

Mona di Orio Ambre

Like Oud, Ambre is a minimalist scent: a creamy woody amber with faintly spicy notes. The opening was a little potent, mind, and almost leathery to my nose, which broadsided me a little! In fact the amber note isn't very pronounced at all, not if your yardstick is Ambre Sultan or Ambre Russe. It is more in the ballpark of a very quiet Guerlain Bois d'Arménie - which I love, yet which seems quite rough and loud by comparison. Hmm, maybe the love child of Bois d'Arménie and Marc Jacobs Amber Splash, then diluted loads more and dusted with spice. The mental images I have of this scent is of the sun streaming into a room full of dusty wooden furniture and of a lump of mica glinting in the sun.

Notes: cedar, ylang ylang, benzoin, tolu, vanilla

Mona di Orio Tubéreuse

Dewy, fresh and green like Carnal Flower, but more citrus-y and with none of the oppressiveness that I get with that scent - and which I get in an even more marked way with By Kilian Beyond Love. I find Beyond Love positively suffocating (the tuberose knocks you out and as you sit there stunned, someone finishes you off by whacking you over the head with a coconut). Tubéreuse, meanwhile, could turn out to be my Holy Grail tuberose scent, and I never thought I would ever want one, never mind find one. So yes, I think I may be having a bit of a tuberose epiphany along the way as well, notwithstanding the heliotrope note I have just noticed in the list! Who'd have thought that Mona di Orio would be the perfumer to bring about such a transformation in my tastes? And it sounds as though Olfactoria did a bit of a U-turn of her own as a result of smelling Mona's collection - or was nudged a bit further in this new direction, say.

Notes: Pink Peppercorn, Bergamot, Absolute Tubéreuse from India, Benzoin, Casmeran, Heliotrope

I did smell one or two other scents briefly (nozzle or card), including a couple of bracing Heeleys (Verveine & Sel Marin), the new Glam Rose from Les Parfums de Rosine (not unlike Lipstick Rose), and PG Tonkamande (not a whole lot going on with this one - it was the tonka equivalent of those high pitched whistles only Alsatians and teenagers can hear).

Huitième Art Myrrhiad

I also tried Huitième Art Myrrhiad on a blotter in store and later on skin, and it is louder on my skin: licorice-y vanilla, reminiscent of Lolita Lempicka and Diptyque Eau Duelle with added licorice - or maybe even a toned down, much more minimalist version of Kenzo Jungle L'Eléphant. Myrrhiad was quite pleasant, but I kept wishing there was less licorice in there (or none, preferably). Let's just say that this is as nice as a perfume can smell with licorice in it!

I have only just googled the notes, and am pleased to confirm that my nose is on the right track - that really was licorice - ha!

Notes: myrrh, leather, black tea, vanilla and licorice

And then before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye to Nick till the next Perfume Lovers London event later this month, and head off to Harrods to meet Tara, where we embarked on a sniffing and makeup-ogling session of epic proportions...



Photo of Mona di Orio Ambre from cafleurebon.com, photo of Mona di Orio from basenotes.net, other photos my own

The Top Sniffs - And Nasty Niffs! - Of 2010

Having checked last year's archives, I see that I put up my "Best Of 2009" post on 18th January. I am even later to the party this year with my lists - so late in fact that everyone has already upped and left, and only the overflowing ashtrays and empty beer cans testify to the fact that there ever was a party. But I shan't let that small matter of timetabling concern me. After all, I am not CNN (though I wouldn't say no to their Google page rank! : - )), and there will be no up-to-the-minute ticker tape bulletins scrolling past your eye at the bottom of my posts...

Now in last year's scent round up I was careful to manage readers' expectations, and it might be worth repeating the passage here, not least for its media analogy:

"...regular readers of Bonkers about Perfume will know full well by now that they are not automatically going to get a considered and impeccably researched review of the latest releases, whether at the time of the launch or indeed ever. What they can count on is a lucky dip, a potluck supper - albeit one made with a packet sauce. For I am arguably the convenience food equivalent of the perfume blogs, the redtop newspaper..."

So what I am offering (then as now) is simply a list of scents that have appealed to me - or not - over the past year. Some were launched in 2010, others in 2009, however it took me until 2010 to catch up with them. I will make a separate note of one or two happy discoveries in 2010 of scents launched before 2009.

There is an interesting analysis over on Persolaise about the validity and usefulness of these sorts of "Best Of" lists. For example, Persolaise takes issue with the following statement: "...the unwritten principle seems to be that if enough people mention a certain scent, it must be good."

I agree that this yardstick is flawed, whether the reviewers in question are highly regarded scent critics or ordinary consumers on reviewcentre.com and similar sites, whose collective feedback also consitutes a large body of opinion. My own approach in reading other bloggers' lists is to correlate the frequency of good reviews with whether or not I happen to have much crossover with the taste of the people in question.

The latter variable is very significant, and one which I am constantly refining. Robin of Now Smell This is the reviewer with whom I have most common ground - somewhere around the 65-70% mark at a guess - while my "taste congruence" with other female reviewers ranges from 10% to 50%. I shan't be more specific for fear of hurting anyone's feelings, although the fact that I don't share these bloggers' preferences in no way diminishes my enjoyment of their blogs or my "virtual attachment" to them as individuals.

So by the same token, I hope that the scents I have selected for my "Best Of" list will help round out the composite picture for anyone conducting their own cross-comparison of the various lists out there. This could either be in a positive sense, or to help people steer clear of scents I like because they know I normally lean to the gentle and understated side of things, while they may prefer fragrances with a more robust character - the perfume equivalent of a hearty Barolo, if you will.

Returning to Persolaise's post for a moment, he welcomes the diversity of viewpoints in the fragrant blogosphere, because of this difficulty of eliminating subjective judgements in assessing a perfume's merit:

"We need different conversations about perfume in just the same way that we need different perfumes. Indeed, we probably need the conversations more than we need a limiting, reductive sense of good and bad..."

And at the end of the day, even if the lists below aren't a blind bit of use to anyone, it is at least a helpful record for ME of what I have tried in 2010, and what is still out there on my list....

OVERALL TOP SNIFF OF 2010

Two perfumes tie for top place - it's a cop out, so shoot me!

Diptyque Eau Duelle

"Transitional* snuggler" - not one but two types of vanilla, plus wisps of incense in the base.

*in the seasonal sense.

Parfumerie Générale Bois Naufragé

Calming, milky, woody skin scent with figs and a hint of salt - perfect for Pilates!

Last year Penhaligon's Amaranthine was my overall top sniff, and though a much more "in your face" kind of tropical floral than my usual style, it also shares this comforting, creamy aspect.


TOP SNIFFS OF 2010 (NICHE)

Diptyque Eau Duelle
Parfumerie Générale Bois Naufragé
Guerlain 180 Ans de Création (all together now: "Please release this, let me buy!")
Atelier Cologne Oolong Infini
Atelier Cologne Bois Blonds
Serge Lutens Bas de Soie (Perfume Shrine captures this one beautifully)
Van Cleef & Arpels Collection Extraordinaire: Lys Carmin (two other favourites from the range made it onto my 2009 list)
Guerlain Tonka Impériale
Ormonde Jayne Tiare
Maison Kurkdjian APOM pour Femme
Penhaligon's Orange Blossom Cologne
The Different Company Oriental Lounge
Floris Snow Rose

TOP SNIFFS OF 2010 (DESIGNER)

Mary Greenwell Plum (Museinwoodenshoes has the ultimate review)
Balenciaga Paris (musky violets with austere greenery)
Vivienne Westwood Naughty Alice (Balenciaga Paris's rosy-cheeked kid sister)
Hermes Eau Claire des Merveilles (a clean Shalimar meets a less weird Eau des Merveilles)
YSL Belle d'Opium (since the incense left the building, my attachment has become largely sentimental)
Estée Lauder Sensuous Noir (not "noir" by a long chalk, but dusky pink at least)
Calvin Klein Beauty (hey, everything's relative...)
Paco Rabanne Lady Million (nice on someone else)

As ever, it is interesting to me to look back at this list of favourite fragrances and identify what they reveal about my taste. Not surprisingly, they are all pretty polite, with some "skin scents" again in evidence. The most frequently occurring note is probably vanilla, but I also seem to be ineluctably drawn to musk, iris, lilies, rose, woods and incense; I also have quite a high tolerance of sweetness these days (which seems to be increasing with age). OJ Tiare and Penhaligon's Orange Blossom cover off the citrus segment to which I will be drawn again in warmer weather.


NEW DISCOVERIES FROM PAST YEARS

Ormonde Jayne Orris Noir (thanks, Sarah Vine & Ormonde Jayne)
Sonia Rykiel Rykiel For Woman Not For Men! (thanks, Wordbird)
Stéphanie de Saint-Aignan Royal Palm (thanks, lovethescents)
Rancé Laetitia (thanks, Potiron)


SCENTS I AM SORRY TO SEE GO

Guerlain Plus Que Jamais (my HGS, no less!)


And now, moving on to the ones which I didn't care for...

OUTRIGHT NASTY NIFFS OF 2010

Thierry Mugler Womanity (hold the popcorn accord, puh-lease!)
Parfumerie Générale Papyrus de Ciane (forbidding, bitter, dank grasses)
Nina Ricci Scarlett - (syrupy Jammy Dodgers)


RELEASES I DID NOT CARE FOR PARTICULARLY

As before, here are some of the (mostly niche) releases from 2010 that were too "difficult" or just not my style. The list also includes a number of scents which I hoped to like but didn't, for each of which I have included an explanatory note.

Maison Kurkdjian Cologne Pour Le Matin (insane levels of soap)
Maison Kurkdjian Cologne Pour Le Soir (discordant mix of notes - I have blanked this one out, it was so disagreeable)
L'Artisan Parfumeur Nuit de Tubéreuse (weird Juicy Fruit & herbal / medicinal issues)
L'Artisan Parfumeur Traversée du Bosphore (too much opulent fruit and powder, but deserves a retrial)
L'Artisan Parfumeur Havana Vanille (surprised to find the vanilla too rich, maybe in combination with the tobacco?)
Ajne Vanille (overly gourmand, sweet burnt toast - shame as I bought it unsniffed!)
Ineke Gilded Lily (the name says it all)
Andy Tauer Une Rose Vermeille (Tauer-ade alert!)
Jo Malone English Pear & Freesia (a niche version of Armani Idole, sadly)
Annick Goutal Ninfeo Mio (stridently sharp, though I did persevere with it)
Hermès Voyage d'Hermès (spoilt by sharp lime note)
Gucci Guilty (lilac is not a contemporary note, I have decided)
Marc Jacobs Bang (probably great on a man, but too spicy/woody on my skin)
Prada Infusion de Tubéreuse (indistinct white floral - bland even by my relaxed standards)
DKNY Pure (felt physically sick - heliotrope combined with the P & O Ferry I was on at the time?)



SCENTS I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO HAVE TRIED BUT DIDN'T

Ajne Sublime
Ajne Bella
Ajne Nectar
Christian Dior La Collection
Floris Amaryllis
DelRae Panache
Hermès Hermessences Iris Ukiyoé

I am sure there were lots more on this last list, and I may come back and add others in as I remember them, indeed the same applies to any of the lists. The Nasty Niffs one seems exceptionally short this year.

Also, in terms of what I tested, having checked against the list of new releases in Now Smell This - some 90% of which I have not tried - it is plain to me that I should get out more. Next month I am off to London and hope to make up some lost ground.


Photo of driftwood heart from bbaam.org.uk, photo of vanilla pods from cart.bombcosmetics.co.uk, photos of Eau Duelle and Bois Naufragé from Fragrantica, photo of Plum from portfo.li, photo of Womanity from cosmeticsboutique.org, photo of Ninfeo Mio from cafleurebon.com.

The Dutch Go Bonkers!

I am back from Holland (I use the term broadly - The Netherlands always seems a bit of a mouthful to my mind), and am pleased to report that I found Mr Bonkers much improved on my return - particularly on the health front. I should perhaps abandon him more often when he is feeling under the weather, as it may accelerate the recovery process. Though my money's on the curative effects of the two bottles of Ribena he consumed in my absence.

The Californian Road Trip post remains imminent, but meanwhile I feel moved to comment on a couple of Dutch cultural oddities which struck me while I was over there.

Firstly, the Dutch appear to be a nation of pyromaniacs. The setting off of fireworks in Holland is confined to New Year, so this compressed time frame seems to create a tinderbox mentality - or might I mean a hothouse mentality? Either way, to say the Dutch go overboard when it comes to seeing in the New Year with fireworks is putting it mildly: an estimated 65 million euros' worth of the things go up in smoke over the festive period - including several hundred thousands of euros' worth in my friends' street, at a conservative guess - some of them directly over my head. Yes, this is the first time I have ever felt as though I was literally inside a firework display, and I could liken the effect to a cross between the opening credits of Star Trek and 3D TV. And on New Year's Day, there's the inevitable thick carpet of confetti and spent cases to scuffle through - like autumn leaves, but with a telltale note of sulphur.

As one travel site puts it: "(The Dutch) stay at home and celebrate quietly with the family until midnight, then dash out on the streets and indulge in a freestyle orgy of pyrotechnics."

I should also point out that there are two types of firework: the traditional rocket and Roman candle variety, which burst into showers of colourful sparks, and the other kind, so-called "duizend klappers" - which are the mother of all bangers, basically - acoustically akin to heavy artillery, rocket launchers, machine gun fire and the occasional 200 lb car bomb. The loud and startling reports from these incendiary devices reverberated round the neighbourhood from early morning till the small hours. Several of our party remarked that it felt like being in a war zone - images of Flanders Field, Beirut and Baghdad flashed before our eyes as we hunkered down in our friends' living room, reaching for the lids of tins of Quality Street and shortbread by way of improvised body armour. I probably left the country just hours before the shock and awe mutated into full blown Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

And then the second cultural oddity of the weekend was the annual New Year's Dive or "Duik" at Scheveningen, a suburb of The Hague. On New Year's Day, somewhat the worse for wear after the drink, merriment and fire-raising excesses of the night before, around 10,000 Dutch people of all ages - and clad in outfits of varying degrees of scantiness and/or whimsy - rush into the sea on the dot of 12.00pm, briefly get wet and rush out again, before changing en masse (and with barely a shred of inhibition amongst them) in a communal tent erected for this purpose on the sand.

Although I just happened to have bought a swimsuit the day before, I was not so foolhardy as to go in myself, though about half the 15-strong contingent from my friend's village braved the waters, including my fellow countrywoman and owner of Meg, the pipped pageant pooch), though she may have been ever so slightly cheating by wearing a wetsuit... Everybody - "divers" and spectators alike - received a carrier bag from the sausage company sponsoring the event, containing a dayglo orange bobble hat, dayglo orange gloves, a tin of pea soup bearing the legent "dive hero", and a commemorative bookmark/medal, rather optimistically stating that the water was "scrummy", if my rudimentary grasp of Dutch serves me.

And there was one more surprise to come that weekend...In Spakenburg, a sleepy and picturesque fishing port to which we made an excursion on the last day, my friend pointed out a perfumery shop in an alleyway called La Ruelle. The staff were visible inside merchandising the shelves, but the sign on the door clearly stated that the store was "gesloten", so I contented myself with peering through the window.

Imagine my surprise when, nestling amongst the Amouages, Serge Lutenses and Etros - remarkable enough but not completely unprecedented in a small village on the continent - I spied a full shelf of Parfumerie Generales. At 30% off no less! I only know of one retail outlet in the UK for PG (Les Senteurs) and 1-2 at most in Paris. So how come a little shop in Spakenburg in Holland had managed to acquire the line? Does Pierre Guillaume have business connections with Holland? Maybe there is some kind of reciprocal trade agreement in place: perfume for gerookte paling perhaps (smoked eel, a Spakenburg speciality)? Or aged Gouda, cheese graters, Delft tableware, or maybe even the dreaded "duizendklappers"....though for the sake of those poor citizens of Clermont-Ferrand, I do hope not.



And finally, a big thank you is due to our hosts in Hoevelaken for their unstinting hospitality, bottomless wine cellar and banger-free bolthole.


Photos of fireworks from Wikimedia Commons and panoramio.com, photos of New Year's Dive from Wikimedia Commons and Clare Chick, photo of Spakenburg from toeristeninformatie.nl, photo of La Ruelle from the shop's website.

The Scents of the Mediterranean the World Over

In my childhood, fashionable clothes were frowned upon as needless “fripperies” – by my father at least, who was keeper of the household purse. But when it came to foreign travel, our family was ahead of the curve. For we started taking package holidays to the Mediterranean in the early 70s. Smitten by the climate, scenery and cuisine, I have been going back regularly ever since.

So when Ines of All I Am - A Redhead invited me to take part in this joint blogging project (co-hosted by Ines and Elena of Perfume Shrine), I was delighted to accept. I saw it as more than just an excuse to dig out old holiday snaps (though it was also that), for it prompted me to impose a semblance of order on the multinational jumble of smells evoked by the region.

My earliest scent memory of the Mediterranean (age 12) is my face hitting an aromatic wall of heat, as we stepped off the plane in the small hours at Mahon airport in Minorca. I have absolutely no idea what herbs or flowers I was smelling – let’s just call it “Mediterranean accord” - but it was a potent blend that stirred the senses and is now hardwired in my brain as the scent of hot, languid holidays abroad.

In tackling this theme, I am slightly hampered by the fact that - whilst I have "scent" memories of various countries - I have no “perfume” memories as such, as my interest in fragrance only dates from 2008. So I thought I would approach things by drawing up an inventory of scent associations with specific places (from whatever source - not all pleasant!), followed by six perfumes I would choose now to capture different facets of the Mediterranean.


THE FRENCH RIVIERA

In 1979 I was posted to the Côte d’Azur for a year as a teaching assistant in a lycée in Cannes, so this area holds most memories for me, with its rugged coastline, glittering blue sea, private beaches and palm-fringed promenades.

General scent associations

Mimosa, lavender, pine trees, sun tan oil, warm plastic sun loungers, bouillabaisse, pistou soup, fennel, aioli, Socca (pancakes made with chickpea flour), ripe melons, beeswax candles, olive wood and soap, ivy geraniums, plus unidentified perfume sillage from patrician-looking ladies wearing recklessly pale trouser suits and carrying miniature dogs.

Perfumes

L’Artisan Parfumeur Mimosa pour Moi

Notes: mimosa (flower, leaf and stem), violet leaves, blackcurrant bud

Spring comes early on the Riviera – as early as February, sometimes – and this scent is mimosa to the max, capturing the dazzling bright sunlight and the feeling of warmth on one’s skin after the dank days of winter. Cheerfulness in a bottle. : - )

Urban Retreat Rêverie (by Roja Dove)

Notes: geranium, bergamot, lavender (all I could find)

I am not mad on lavender, yet I associate it very closely with this part of France. So I am including a (relatively unknown) scent by Roja Dove, where the lavender is understated and blended with two other notes that are also typical of the area. I look upon it as a dumbed down “garrigue” scent for wimps, for which there should be a place on the shortlist.

Jil Sander Sun

Notes: bergamot, rosewood, jasmine, lily of the valley, rose, orange blossom, patchouli, amber, vanilla

When I lived in Antibes, the cult of sunbathing was bigger than it is today, and people slapped on factors 2 and 4 and Hawaiian tropic tanning oil with carefree abandon, as though “melanoma” was just another word for a fancy cocktail. How Jil Sander Sun manages to capture the smell of sun cream with that particular set of notes beats me, but the patch-amber-vanilla base (for which I am always a sucker), doubtless has a lot to do with it. Thanks to Wordbird for the sample of this one!


CORSICA

Corsica is France’s wild child little sister (though it wouldn’t thank me for saying so). It is craggy, untamed, proudly independent and still largely unspoilt. Home to the Foreign Legion, its cliff top towns have an “edge of the world”, frontier feel. Vegetarians may be treated as alien life forms.

General scent associations

Forest fires (some set by terrorists!), miscellaneous aromatic plant matter, salty mountain ham, sharp sheep’s cheese…. and antiseptic (I came off my moped at the same bend two years running, and on each occasion received first aid in the nearby monastery. Having grazes anointed with pink disinfectant by monks – twice - is something that stays with you.)

Perfume

Parfums 06130 Lentisque

Notes: lentisque, ambrette seed, jasmine, melon, orris root, Turkish rose, musk, vetiver, amber

Named after the pistachio tree, a fragrant shrub common in Corsica, Lentisque is a sheer yet creamy, amber scent shot through with sharp herbal notes and a slight nuttiness. It is unlike anything else I have ever smelt, and serves me well as a symbol of this “miscellaneous aromatic plant matter” found throughout the Med that my nose finds so hard to deconstruct.


GREECE

When I think of Greece, the Cyclades always spring to mind first, with their white sugar cube houses and windmills, against a backdrop of cloudless blue sky. Other memories of island-hopping holidays include straw-roofed beach tavernas, fishing boats and nets, octopi drying on clothes lines, whippet-thin cats, Greek salads, wizened old ladies in traditional black dress, and entire families riding a single scooter (on Spetses, where cars are not allowed).

General scent associations

Bread baking in stone ovens, Greek lamb and rosemary, barbecued seafood with lemon, retsina & ouzo, figs, honey, donkeys (their warm fur AND droppings), Greek coffee (strong black sludge), occasional dodgy plumbing, sea spray washing over the rails of the inter-island ferries, mosquito coils (incense, but not as we know it…), outboard motors.

Perfume

Parfumerie Générale Jardins de Kerylos

Notes: fig, sycamore, musk

This scent neatly links Greece with the French Riviera. It was inspired by the gardens of Villa Grecque Kerylos in Beaulieu-sur-Mer (pictured above), which in turn was modelled on a Greek villa on the island of Delos. The name Kerylos means “sea swallow”, the harbinger of happiness, according to legend. I certainly find this lush yet green rendition of a fig as mood-enhancing as a plate of the ripe fruit, drizzled in honey and served with a blob of thick yogurt.


ITALY

Italy is a beautiful country, if not very ergonomically shaped and lawless in parts, though this is greatly offset by a fine selection of leather goods. It has the hairiest driving conditions in Europe, but the best coffee, and affords occasional glimpses of the Pope.

General scent associations

Orange groves, cypress trees, mouldy church crypts, vellum paper, amaretti biscuits, ragu, basil, cappuccino, sulphur (from the Solfatara volcano), the smell of fear! (I was briefly kidnapped in Naples, but had a lucky escape at traffic lights – needless to say, this was before the days of central locking.).

Perfume

Tom Ford Private Collection Neroli Portofino

Notes: bergamot, mandarin orange, orange blossom and amber, vanilla

A Mediterranean selection would not be complete without a citrus scent, and this one contains pretty much every part of the orange, though happily not in an “orange comminute” kind of a way. This is a crisp, “grainy”, bracing orange fragrance to lift the spirits when you find yourself driving the wrong way round the Colosseum in rush hour.

So those are my six picks, which collectively – and retrospectively - “distill the essence” of the Mediterranean for me.

Thanks to Ines and Elena for their work in organising the event! And assuming I have finally mastered the necessary technical wizardry, here is a list of the other blogs taking part:

I Smell Therefore I Am

Notes From the Ledge

Olfactarama

Eiderdownpress

The Non-Blonde

WAFT...what a fragrancefanatic thinks

hortus conclusus

A Rose Beyond the Thames

SmellyBlog

Katie Puckrik Smells

Sonoma Scent Studio Blog

Roxana Illuminated Perfume

Scent Hive

Perfume Shrine

All I Am - A Redhead

Under the Cupola

Photo of Villa Kerylos from eliteshoretrips.com, photo of Portofino from clickz.it, photo of Corsica courtesy of David Gleeson. Others are my own.

London Trip: The Perfumery, The Supermodel, The Lover, And The Pair Of Magic Jeans

Well, that was rather a silly post the other day, wasn't it? But it was in the spirit of the Third Thing on The Non-Blonde's list of "Five Things I Learned In 4 Years of Beauty Blogging", namely "Inspiration comes in many shapes and forms".

And the title of this post, with its feeble nod to Peter Greenaway, is also on the frivolous side... But anyway, on to the recent lightning trip to London last Thursday, lightning because we went down and back in a day. I cadged a lift with Mr Bonkers, who was going to pick up a new, custom-made bass guitar he had commissioned as a present to himself for his 50th birthday. It was some time in the making, for Mr Bonkers is now 51 and a quarter, but he didn't seem to mind the wait.

On the day, Mr B reckoned he needed about five hours in the store's workshop to preside over the finishing touches to the bass, and to brief the staff on some modifications to three other guitars he was leaving off with them - for the musical instrument equivalent of cosmetic surgery, as far as I could gather. So, seizing my five hour window, I jumped on a tube to Sloane Square, bound for Les Senteurs, the bijou niche perfumery in the smart back streets of Belgravia, if "smart back streets" is not a contradiction in terms.

I have a passing acquaintance with Claire, the proprietor of Les Senteurs, as we have a close mutual friend, who is a strange hybrid of my profession (market researcher) and that of Mr Bonkers (musician). My friend's signature scent is FM Angeliques sous la Pluie, and I have made it a bit of a mission to swap for samples of this on MUA and keep him permanently topped up.

As luck would have it, Claire was in that afternoon, along with two new SAs: Martin, who had worked there before (in my dark, pre-perfumista days), and who has recently come back, and Eva. Shelley, whom I had met several times before, was also around.

I spent a most enjoyable hour and a half there (it flew, honest!), sniffing some new things and some things that were new to me, and shooting the breeze generally with Claire and the team. I have bought FBs on two of my previous visits: PG Brulure de Rose and Les Parfums d'Empire Osmanthus Interdite, so I didn't feel under any particular pressure to make a purchase on this occasion, and didn't.

Here is my test list, with comments on each (somewhat sketchy in places!):

Grossmith Shem-El-Nessim - retro, powdery iris floral of the most headache-inducing kind.

Annick Goutal Ninfeo Mio - third attempt to "get" this, but it still too sharp (though there is a lot of interesting stuff going on beneath the astringency).

Les Parfums de Rosine Secrets de Rose - retro powdery rose - not headache-inducing as such, but not my thing.

DelRae Mythique - third attempt to "get" this one too, and I did! Wish I had tried it on skin now, as it was a beautifully soft and powdery iris - not in a retro way.

L'Etat Libre d'Orange Like This - documented in my earlier post.

LesNez Let Me Play The Lion - a cool green scent I would like to try again. Not as cryogenically cool as Unicorn Spell, and mercifully also lacking the "peapod peeping through a freshly creosoted fence" vibe of the latter.

Honore des Pres Bonte's Bloom - a soft, greenish and rather distinctive floral, which I must revisit. Here is a description of this scent from Les Senteurs' website (penned by the perfume house, I would like to hope):

"Girls in muslin on summer afternoons when the fields are white with daisies, conjuring thoughts of corn fields, sunflowers, garlands of meadow flowers and tedded (sic) hay. Iris butter, camomile, fragrant herbs and Paraguayan leaves - green, soft, aromatic and delicate."

Honore des Pres Nu Green - another cool green floral, with a slightly weird opening, but it soon got into its stride. Another delightfully purple blurb follows:

"A beautiful all-purpose ambisexual green cologne to make you feel clean, re-born and vital: like diving into cold sea-water and then drying out in the sun on red rocks. A melange of green mint, plant musc, Indian herbs and tarragon is enveloped in sparkling dewy leaves and supported by drifts of pure white cedar."

Parfumerie Generale Louanges Profanes - a warm oriental floral - not noticeably profane!

Notes: neroli, hawthorn, lily infusion, incense smoke, benzoin and lignum vitae (guaiac) wood.

Parfumerie Generale Papyrus de Ciane - this has been fully reviewed elsewhere, notably by 1000 Fragrances, so I will just say that it struck me as a complex and interesting vegetal kind of floral, and reminded me of Diptyque's Eau de Lierre or a less sharp Ninfeo Mio.

Notes: bergamot, galbanum, neroli, broom, solar notes, lavender, mugwort, clove, incense, cistus labadanum, hedione, vetiver, Mousse de Saxe, Silvanone, white musk

Parfumerie Generale Gardenia Grand Soir - a good representation of gardenia, simple but unremarkable.

Parfumerie Generale Bois Naufrage - fig and driftwood. Very interesting, reminiscent of Ava Luxe Fig Wood, but slightly more saline and attenuated.

I found notes listed as fig tree, fleur de sel and ambergris. My impression of woody notes must come from the tree, though the fruit of the fig is also quite marked.

There is a superb review of this scent - the highlight of the afternoon - here, together with the story behind it:

http://www.cafleurebon.com/fragrance-reviewparfumerie-generale-bois-naufrage/

During all this testing, a funny thing happened, which proves how suggestible the human mind is - or my mind, anyway. I was re-smelling the Gardenia Grand Soir strip, thinking it was Papyrus de Ciane, and blow me if it didn't SMELL like Papyrus Ciane, until Martin pointed out my mistake. How weird and gullible is that?

It reminded me of the time when I was sixteen and on holiday with my father, who had ordered me pistachio ice cream in error instead of lime. Rather than send it back, he told me it WAS lime and I ate it all up quite happily - it really did taste of lime. Afterwards, my father confessed to the stunt he had just pulled and I was retrospectively furious!

After Les Senteurs, I had planned to go to Harrods next, so only tested Bois Naufrage on skin, saving space for a bunch of whatever took my fancy there. Which is a shame, because I never made it to Knightsbridge, but instead wandered the wrong way down the Kings Road. However, I did find a great pair of straight jeans in Gap, with magic slimming powers!

And I bumped into Claudia Schiffer! "Bump" being the operative word, as she is 8 months' pregnant. She was surrounded by a clutch of small blonde schifferlets, some of whom may have belonged to her tall blonde friend, who was the one not wearing "I'm a celebrity, please don't stare at me" sunglasses.
Summoned by a call from Mr Bonkers, I hotfooted it back to the guitar shop in Camden, and we set off for home. I kept sniffing the one spot on my hands with perfume on it all the way back up the M1, imagining tangled heaps of driftwood, salty breakers and ripe figs. By about Corley Services, the last trace of it had vanished.

Oh, and I may have made up The Lover for reasons of filmic verisimilitude....


(Photos of Les Senteurs are from Basenotes. Photo of Claudia Schiffer by Bauer Griffin. Jeans modelled by Freja Eriksen!)