A random round up of perfume oddities

I am sorry that I have been gone awhile...in my flimsy defence, I have been preoccupied with recurring bouts of eye eczema - unusually for this time of year, as the main triggers are pollens of every stripe. At first I blamed a conditioner high in natural ingredients, which can be as irritating if not more so than synthetic ones, only to experience another episode a couple of weeks later despite avoiding the offending hair product, leaving me none the wiser. These flare ups are now commoner than periods of "good skin", and I am even starting to wonder if I should believe in chemtrails after all, and that planes are spraying some irritating chemicals in the atmosphere that are landing on my face, haha. At this point in my bafflement and frustration I am open to any explanation, however off the wall.

Staying with the notion of "off the wall", this post will take the form of a compilation of odd things linked to perfume that have struck me lately.

The perfume bottle that isn't

Reprising the theme of a post in 2013 on "perfume related imagery", I have another example to add to the pot, namely a dish I bought in a charity shop for £3 (see above). Does that not look like a bottle of Estee Lauder Private Collection Amber Ylang Ylang to you? Okay, a bit squarer perhaps, and without the beaten gold top. And the top it does have admittedly resembles a wan and bloodied finger, and is on the skinny side. But a definite resemblance nonetheless, I would say. Through half-closed eyes the white streaks could even be seen as representations of sillage, hehe...

Source: Boots

The perfume reviews that weren't

I did originally think I would review the latest release from Papillon Perfumery, Spell 125, as I have a fondness for the house and have covered most of the perfumes in the Papillon stable. Not quite all of the line, mind - not Anubis - but most of them. And Spell 125 is a very fine composition like its fragrant forebears, even if it is not really "me". For I have a problematic relationship with pine, and found it difficult to connect with Spell 125 on a personal level. It struck me as more of a "foresty atmosphere" rather than something you would wear to accessorise an outfit - the olfactory equivalent of the musical sleep aids found in the deepest recesses of the Calm app, some of which go by the startling name of "dronescapes". Claire of Take One Thing Off makes this very point in her own stellar post on the scent, using the term "environmental", and later alluding to Spell 125's "ascetic, modern spaciness", though I promise I had the same reaction independently. ;) She does concede that Spell 125 would nicely accessorise a yoga outfit - and act as a kind of scented "om" mantra perhaps? So that would have been the angle I would have taken, but there was absolutely no need as Claire had eloquently mined the same metaphorical seam before me. Spell 125 also reminded me of a poem I wrote when I was 11, which was published in the school magazine, although I have no copy of that or the poem itself anymore. I know it was about a crypt, and evoked the dank musty, chilly feel of the sarcophagi in that underground space where no light could get in. I remember the first two lines and that is it:

"Alabaster icy cell / This is where the spirits dwell"

Sarcophagus in St Mary's, Ingestre

I do know the poem had a meditative, dronescapey quality to it, with bonus murmuring insects outside in the churchyard and a fair few mossy flagstones, but my memory is as fuzzy as I believe the atmosphere of the poem was. So that scuppered the review as well. And the third thing to do so was the fact that while I am aware of the significance of the name "Spell 125", every time I hear it I instantly think of "Bet 365", possibly because they are a local company - and major employer in the area! - in Stoke. And that was the final nail in the coffin of the review that wasn't, and is what qualifies it as an "oddity" for inclusion in this post.

Then there is another new perfume I am not going to review, because it would dispel the mystery readers may prefer to solve for themselves. As soon as I sniffed it, I immediately thought:

"Woody soapy iris".

My next impression (before consulting the note list) was of a muted and hazy, more high end take on Bourjois Soir de Paris, which was of course a huge hit in its day. 

Top notes: Violet, Peach, Apricot and Bergamot

Middle notes: Iris, Heliotrope, Rose, Ylang-Ylang, Jasmine and Lily-of-the-Valley

Base notes: Amber, Sandalwood, Vanilla and Musk.

Soir de Paris is noticeably fruity and sweet (due to the first three notes above), and "puts out more", whereas this new fragrance is a sophisticated, understated veil. Interestingly, 11 of the 14 notes in Soir de Paris are in the new scent, though it has many more besides. But that could well explain why I went straight to the Bourjois in my mind. Below is a photo of my vintage mini (featured here), which is sadly too irrevocably gunky to be used now.

My world is not JPG

Recently I have been progressively friended on Facebook by a bunch of perfumistas, who all seem to know one another and be from The Netherlands or Belgium. I accepted the friend requests and was soon hit up with the following invitation to join a group about Jean-Paul Gautier called "mijn wereld is JPG" - at 4.04am in the morning! So many assumptions involved here: that I speak Dutch/Flemish, that I like JPG enough to wish to join a group devoted to the brand, and (most improbably of all) that I am awake and raring to respond in the middle of the night! You may well ask why I don't turn my phone off to avoid such disturbances, and that is because I drift off to sleep listening to podcasts or meditations or one of the aforementioned dronescapes and my phone is therefore still on for the rest of the night.

"Hallo, ik heb deze groep op Facebook gemaakt waarin je mogelijk bent geïnteresserd - mijn wereld is JPG"

The perfumista alarm clock

I bought a travelling alarm clock on eBay the other day, as my trusty old folding leather one was in for repair and not expected to come out alive. Even if it did - as it has to my surprise - it must be "on its last hands", and it is always handy to have a back up against the time that nobody makes them anymore, on the assumption that we all now use our phones instead. If I have a very important early start - say if I am catching a train - I will often set two devices, not being a morning person. Anyway, the clock arrived yesterday - a dinky little thing with a cheery orange leather interior - and I was almost as excited by the design of the clock itself as I was by the tissue paper in which it was wrapped, which had Penhaligon's perfume bottles all over it. How very unexpected! And what an inadvertently apt choice on the part of the sender. ;)

The Alien perfume sample

I know Omicron is about to descend on us all shortly, and possibly precipitate another lockdown, but I have managed to get out and about a bit lately, and recently met up with a Japanese friend, who kindly donated a clutch of skincare and perfume samples she had acquired as GWPs when buying larger skincare products. The one that intrigued me most was the sample of Mugler's Alien, with which I am familiar already. It was the delivery mechanism of the sample that tickled me - you pulled a cardboard tab upwards to reveal a white plastic nozzle, and then pressed the image of the bottle to deliver a spray from it - which is the closest I have seen to a sample replicating the experience of using a tester. ;) Genius really, and guaranteed to appeal to my inner little kid. 

Do you have any perfume oddities to report? Let me know in the comments.

Loose Women: a tale of three perfumistas and a bottle of Penhaligon's Tralala

Ever since it came out, I always knew I was going to need a bit more than a purse spray size of Penhaligon's whisky-laced 'comfy jogging bottoms' scent (copyright @Tara of A Bottled Rose), Tralala, which I reviewed around the time of its launch. Not least because I quickly drained said spray and had to make do with sniffing the vestiges around the nozzle. So when 'suddenly last summer' Tara herself kindly offered to buy a bottle of Penhaligon's Tralala and split it three ways with Asali of The Sounds of Scent and me, I jumped at the chance. Nick Gilbert was still working there at the time, and Tara liaised with him to make her purchase, before decanting 25ml bottles for the two of us.

But in July, before my share was despatched, I happened to be at a northern gig of...you've guessed it!...The Monochrome Set. Over a curry beforehand, one of the band piped up: "So what perfumes are you into at the moment?", whilst being fully aware that whatever answer I gave was most unlikely to ring any bells with them. So it proved, only my answer was unintentionally even more baffling than they bargained for.

"Ah, well I am looking forward to getting a split of Tralala."

The table promptly erupted into merriment, and I was asked to explain this impenetrable comment forthwith, which I did.

"That would make a good lyric for a song actually", observed the singer,"either that or whatever it was you said back there about Uttoxeter."

This was a reference to an earlier remark I had made about being quite happy to pay my way at the restaurant, having expressly been to a cash point on the way up...although this actually came out as:

"It's fine, I got wedged up in Uttoxeter." Which of course I also had to clarify.

Fast forward, and my split of Tralala duly came, courtesy of Tara. Now I could spritz with impunity and abandon. Fast forward some more and The Monochrome Set's 13th studio album, Cosmonaut, is poised for release on September 9th. And one of the tracks - called 'Stick Your Hand Up If You're Louche!' - whose arcane and oddball lyrics are a talking point amongst the critics who have reviewed the CD already, contains the line:

"Do you daub your body with a split of Tralala?"

To be fair that is about the only lyric that makes any sense to me - it's a very odd song indeed, which probably would not reward further attempts at deconstruction. But I feel chuffed to have contributed even in such a very minor way to its overall opacity and "stylishly warpedness". And I could not have done it without the good offices of Tara and Asali...'it takes two to tango' as the saying goes, and a minimum of two to three to split. ;) So thanks, both!

You can listen to an extract from the track here - it is the second song down and fourth line in!

And here is a review from Mojo, and one from Louder than War, both singling out 'Stick Your Hand Up If You're Louche!' for special mention. This one from Uncut even lobbies for 'Louche' to be released as a single, with its own video.

"If Tapete don't issue a 7" of Louche with a supporting video and live dates, there's no justice in this cruel world."

Obviously, I can recommend the album unreservedly. ;) Val CQ Sperrer is also a fan of the band, forsooth, should you require further endorsement.

(Oh, the Uttoxeter quote ended up on the cutting room floor due to insurmountable rhyming issues.)

The 'Careful Whispers' series: No 2 - Puredistance BLACK review

Back in August, Undina of Undina's Looking Glass blogged about the upcoming fragrance from Dutch luxury perfume house Puredistance - the succinctly named BLACK - which is due to be launched in November.  All we had to go on was the press release, which described BLACK (created by French perfumer Antoine Lie) as an 'understated elegant and mysteriously charming perfume inspired by the concept of BLACK; a concept that for centuries has been associated with secrets, mystery and style...The essence of the concept was to create a perfume that is close to the wearer and releases sensual and elegant scent layers in a whispering way - without shouting.'  There was additionally a clue as to its fragrance family - we were told that it would be 'more masculine and oriental' than Puredistance 1.  And then came the kicker:

'And as a consequence of the concept of BLACK, we will not reveal the ingredients of Puredistance BLACK...Envision, Smell, Feel.  Don't analyse.'

Source: Puredistance

In the comments to Undina's post, readers weighed in with predictions as to how this latest addition to the Puredistance stable might smell, and we discussed our take on the company's wish to create an aura of mystery around its new fragrance, which extended to new levels of coyness around the idea of publishing fragrance notes. I speculated about how masculine it would be:

"I clocked the ‘elegant, mysterious and whispering’ (yay!), but wondered if for 'BLACK' one should read 'butch'."

And now my sample is here - thanks, Samira!!  I was so keen to test it that I whacked it on just as I was going out the door to a meeting in Edgbaston, taking a leap of faith that its elegant whispering ways with a masculine leaning would make it appropriate as an 'office scent'.  More on how it smells in a moment...

Sexiest Jiffy bag ever!

First of all, I would like to say that I have a lot of time for Puredistance as a company.  They are one of my favourite niche houses, no question.  For the people at Puredistance have always been unstintingly friendly, appreciative and generous in their dealings with bloggers, an impression that was only reinforced when I called into their headquarters in Groningen towards the end of a long business trip in 2011. The team working for Puredistance is young, dynamic, professional, and totally enthused by their product range.  And for such a high end brand, I was struck by how completely unstuffy they were. As I recounted in my post about that visit, Jan Ewoud Vos endeared himself to me hugely when he offered me some apple cake for the road, and proceeded to wodge a big piece into one of their pristine perfume boxes with its padded satin lining!  Nor did they bat an eyelid when, in my review of Puredistance 1, I likened their packaging to a 'top of the range coffin'.

So while I am predisposed to like the house and their perfumes, I don't get on with all of them.  M is too masculine for my taste (only to be expected, really). And the musk in Opardu was problematic on my skin, though it was an unequivocably tender and pretty scent.  And even though I was concerned that BLACK might go the same way as M, I was still unfeasibly excited to try it.

Packaging for Opardu sample - foam strips galore!, with a velvet veneer

And whereas my sample of Opardu had come in a disproportionately large and clunky box - protected by an assortment of foam strips I found so intriguingly odd that I have kept them to this day, long after the perfume vial had been drained - BLACK came in more minimalist packaging, of which I heartily approve. Moreover, the padded, bubble wrap-style envelope, was also black!!  What an inspired move!  So I was already well on the way to liking BLACK, even though I had yet to extract the vial from its size-appropriate satin baglet (see photo at top of post).

There was a flyer in the package in a black envelope, and a black business card from Jan Ewoud Vos, on the reverse of which one of his staff had written - using black fountain pen at a guess, or a high end felt tip maybe:

'Envision. Smell. Feel.  Don't analyse...', reprising the injunction of the press material.

Hold on a minute...I am a market researcher, analysing is in my D & A!  So forgive me if I cock a small snook at that injunction right off the bat...;-)  As for 'envisioning', well I'm never going to do that, am I?  I might picture in my mind's eye, or do a bit of imagining perhaps.  The only people I know of who could 'envision' without so much as a backward glance are creative types in ad agencies and government think tanks, PR execs - oh, and the odd political speech writer.

So I will kick off by describing how BLACK smells, which may involve a bit of light comparison, and some pretty wild note guessing, just for fun. Then if this post hasn't got too long by that point, I will shut my eyes and have a crack at a little visualisation...

Right, so the opening of BLACK is hotly spicy, and I was instantly reminded of Neela Vermeire's Trayee and Penhaligon's Elixir.  For the purposes of this review I am wearing all three, plus Le Labo's Poivre 23, and I can confirm that the spices in BLACK are nothing like the Le Labo scent, so I can exclude that from my inquiries - they are sharper and drier.  This piquant phase is relatively shortlived, especially compared with Trayee, and it is not long before BLACK has melded with my skin (yup, I can absolutely vouch for the staying close to the wearer part!) and embarked on its whispering phase.

How fortuitous that I had already devised this series of perfume reviews founded on the very principle of whispering...;-)

Elixir sample - also in black packaging!

There is another part of the press release which states that BLACK 'stays in the shadow, giving away - only every now and then - part of its delicate nature'.  That is also true - it really is extremely quiet after the opening salvo of spice.

So to recap, I think I am on safe ground by stating that this is some kind of woody/spicy/incense-y oriental. Eyeballing the commonalities between Elixir and Trayee - and having an almost certainly doomed punt to fill in the gaps - I would guess that the notes might include some combination of cinammon, cardamom, pepper, incense, vanilla, cedar and sandalwood - and maybe vetiver, amber or even musk to round the whole thing out, but I really haven't got a clue...;-)

I should also mention that the similarities between BLACK, Elixir and Trayee are mainly at the start - beyond that BLACK settles into a much more gauzy veil-like effect, while Trayee's hot spiciness persists all the way to the drydown - it just gets progressively softer.  I'd even say that BLACK is similar to its 'Careful Whispers' stablemate, Penhaligon's Iris Prima, specifically in that diffusive, indistinct regard, but a woody/spicy/oriental version, if that makes any sense.

Spice poster - Source: Wikimedia Commons

If there are any flowers in BLACK they are not making themselves known to me.  I note, however, that both Trayee and Elixir have jasmine in them, and I never noticed it there, so who knows? - maybe there is a smidge of jasmine in BLACK too, deftly blended into the softly spicy, thrumming base.

While - to come over all capitals myself for a moment - I ABSOLUTELY LOVE BLACK, to the point where it has just gone and pipped Puredistance 1 as my favourite of the line!, I can imagine that some people may find it a tad too quiet.  I sense there are fumeheads out there who are by no means after perfumes that 'shout' as such, but who prefer them to have a normal speaking voice, say.

And that is probably all I have to say as regards my cheeky and hopeless stab at deconstructing BLACK. So now I am going to have a crack at the envisioning bit - here goes...!

I am dressed pretty much top-to-toe in black: black boucle wool belted jacket, black jeans, black patent chunky heeled shoes, black eyeliner and lashings of black mascara, just stopping the right side of demented spider.  I am wearing my black leather bracelet I got at the Leather evening of Perfume Lovers London, and my black 'flittersniffer' earrings made from Belgian lace.  I am off to meet my friend R, who has a sleek bob of jet black hair and wears a lot of black herself.  She turns out to be wearing a black and red shift dress and black ballet pumps, and has spritzed on either Bvlgari Mon Jasmin Noir or Ralph Lauren Notorious - both glossy black carded samples I gave her, which smell fabulous and completely different on her.  We meet in the sepulchral gloom of a popular nightspot and battle our way towards the bar, nearly deafened by a cacophonous wall of sound, as it is always heaving at the weekend.  I steal a whiff of my wrist, a momentary reverie amidst the jarring Saturday night revelry.  My scent of the evening is ethereal yet warm, wistful yet comforting...I am of course wearing Puredistance BLACK.

The 'Careful Whispers' series: No 1 - Penhaligon's Iris Prima review

Source: Wikimedia Commons ~ Noboyuki Kayahara

Undina of Undina's Looking Glass recently reported on the upcoming release of a new Puredistance scent, Black, which the company describes as a 'mysteriously charming perfume that is close to the wearer and releases sensual and elegant layers in a whispering way'. Well, as regular readers of Bonkers know, I love perfumes that are subtle, nuanced and quiet. Accordingly I left a comment after Undina's post, exclaiming: 'I clocked the elegant, mysterious and whispering (yay!)', triggering in turn this joky riposte from Undina:

'You and your “whispering” hang-up!  Are you sure you even need a perfume? No perfume would stay really close to skin, you know. '

This banter with Undina about my predilection for scents that are well-crafted but muted - aka 'careful whispers' (with apologies to George Michael) - has only gone and prompted me to start a mini-series on this fragrance style. ;-) I thought I'd kick off with the newest addition to the Penhaligon's range, Iris Prima, which is due to be released on September 9th.  In collaboration with leading members of the English National Ballet, perfumer Alberto Morillas set out to capture the spirit and grace of the dance in a perfume.

Notes: bergamot, pink pepper, iris, jasmine (hedione), leather, sandalwood, vetiver, amber, vanilla and benzoin

I hadn't actually clocked Iris Prima was by Morillas until I sat down to write this review.  In a past post on Estee Lauder Intuition I dubbed him the master of the 'fuzzy' scent, as in 'blurry and indistinc' (think Armani She White, Armani Sensi, Kenzo Flower Oriental and Bvlgari Omnia Crystalline), and Iris Prima is no exception. Occasionally, as with Intuition, Morillas's creations can be downright fuzzy in a textural way, and the leather note in Iris Prima gives it a bit of that suede undercurrent that characterises Bottega Veneta, for example (though Iris Prima is less sweet and not at all fruity like BV).

Source: Facebook

I get a hint of iris from the outset - and a hint is really quite enough for me - less than in Chanel La Pausa, say, with which it very much shares its indistinct DNA.  And much less so than in the more powdery and spiky iris of Bas de Soie, which in fairness is blended with some prickly hyacinth.

Of the three, Iris Prima is my clear favourite, though La Pausa smells fractionally more niche, possibly because the iris is more prominent, in an old school, melancholic Apres L'Ondee kind of a way.  In my book iris does equate with class to a degree (with a few notable exceptions such as Chanel Chance!), so the more muted the note the more a scent edges towards mainstream territory.  But then I like many high end designer scents and don't get on with a ton of niche stuff, so that in itself is not a black mark in my book.  

And Iris Prima does smell niche - this despite the stated inclusion of hedione, which might have put me off if I had known that nugget on first testing it - for I didn't get on with that particular aromachemical in Marc Jacobs Blush, where it is present in spades. Together with vetiver and amber, the hedione helps to give Iris Prima a warm, luminous, translucent quality.  This is overlaid by just a light dusting of powdery iris, conferring a tender, wistful facet that also keeps Iris Prima from feeling too modern.

Source: buro247.ru

My only quibble with Iris Prima, which perfectly lives up to the exquisite balletic imagery which has characterised the launch campaign, is that it doesn't last very long - and coming from me that is saying something!  After two hours it has started to fade, and after four I am struggling to detect it on my skin.  But if you don't mind regularly refreshing it, in terms of how Iris Prima smells I am a big fan.  This is dainty and easy to wear, an elfin slip of a scent.  A whisper that is just a tad too quiet indeed, which brings me to my audibility scale...  

Audibility rating (on a scale of 1-10, where 1 is hard to spot and 10 is foghorn loud): 3.5 

Well, Iris Prima starts out at 3.5, falling to a 1 within a relatively short space of time. And La Pausa is guilty of something similar, while Bas de Soie has more tenacity - those thorny hyacinth molecules don't give up without a fight.

Source: weheartit.com

For another - more detailed and beautifully nuanced - review, check out the Candy Perfume Boy's take on Iris Prima.  Whilst he concedes that this scent might be too understated for his tastes, I am surprised that a renowned Angel fan like Thomas does not also report issues with the scent's longevity / audibility rating! ;-) ;-)

PS If the spinning ballerina is inhibiting your ability to read this post, give me a shout and I will relocate her to the end, or - in extremis - despatch her to the wings!


Disclosure: a sample of Iris Prima was provided by Penhaligon's at my request.

Housekeeping - And House Leaving - Issues, And Penhaligon's Juniper Sling Revisited

Readers may have noticed that my posts on Bonkers have become a little less frequent in the past month or so.  Lately I have also been forgetting to wear perfume for up to three days at a time, which - as anyone who knows me knows - is decidedly out of character.  When I wrote this post on reasons to be scentless, I thought I had covered off all the scenarios not conducive to perfume wearing - death, sickness etc - but now I have come up with another: a pending house move. 

Yes, after nearly 17 years, it is the parting of the ways for me and Mr Bonkers: he is staying put, while I am moving to the new Bonkers Towers, a creeper-clad Edwardian semi closer to the centre of town.  After consulting with the vet, I opted to take Charlie Bonkers with me - she is making good progress with her programme of "transitional litter tray retraining" in the run up to the move, and the vet is confident that she will adapt to her new surroundings, notwithstanding her great age (17).  Unfortunately, being deaf, she makes enough of a racket now with her random outbursts of blood curdling miaowing that if she was finding it hard to adjust to the new house I am afraid I would be none the wiser.

So anyway, I thought I should mention this major piece of news, because I am aware that not only is my posting schedule more intermittent, but there is the chance that I may get overtaken by events at any moment and go completely quiet for a week at a time - possibly longer in the immediate aftermath of the move, as I shall doubtless be without broadband for a while.  All this also means that I have not been able to do as much reading of other people's blogs as I would like, but it is, as they say: "just a phase that I am going through".  I have a pipeline of post ideas just waiting for me to stop collecting empty boxes from supermarkets, stalking sofas on Ebay, negotiating who gets custody of the coffee table and the toaster, and notifying all, sundry - and doubtless a few other people I have forgotten - about my imminent change of address.

And somewhere in my hectic round of dealings with solicitors, estate agents, insurance brokers, IFAs, Ebay couriers and removal companies, I have been finding solace in two activities in particular: googling designer scatter cushions and wallpaper swatches.  I am a veritable demon at speed swatch scrolling, appraising hundreds of designs in a few minutes.  Oh, and I have also been looking at paint, but lately it has been more in the way of fabrics and wallpaper, in the possibly mistaken belief that it is easier to match a paint to a preferred textile or wallpaper pattern than the other way about.  I find myself repeatedly drawn to the same categories, to wit trailing florals, damasks and geometrics.  The latter include a number of patterns from the Art Deco era.

So there I am, indulging in a spot of therapeutic wallpaper surfing, when the postman brought me a complimentary bottle of Juniper Sling courtesy of those nice people at Penhaligon's.  My first thought was: "How kind of them", and my second thought was: "How fitting for the new house."  For Juniper Sling was inspired by the "Roaring Twenties", as Jovan Buac, Account Director at jkr, the design agency behind the packaging, explains on the company's blog:

"The brief was very clear on the mood and emotion we wanted Juniper Sling to conjure up from a design point of view.  It’s about gin cocktails in the 1920’s, bright young things and art deco nuances.”

His production colleague, Judith Allan, takes up the theme of haptics:

“This design is all about tactility and layering, but with simplicity at the heart of the design. The paper stock is tactile whilst the use of silver foils and varnishes helps create a luxurious feel."

So, given that the arrival of this bottle of Juniper Sling exactly coincides with my newfound interest in Art Deco and other retro styles of wallpaper, you may imagine that I studied the specific pattern on the Penhaligon's box with particular interest...  You see, I felt sure I had come across it somewhere in all my online research, but couldn't recall where.  In vain did I scour the catalogues of the likes of Osborne & Little, Sanderson, Zoffany and Harlequin - I found a number of Art Deco patterns along similar lines, but not the exact one in question, and assumed my memory was playing tricks.  I even scrutinised the "spire" of the Chrysler building to make sure that wasn't where Penhaligon's got its pattern from, but drew a (pointed!) blank.

Then, in one of those bonkers impulses to which I am prone, I emailed Jovan Buac himself, and inquired about the identity of the Art Deco pattern used on the Penhaligon's box, assuming that it was something in the public domain, or which he wouldn't mind my mentioning in public.

The following day, I received this response:

"Hi Vanessa

You won't find the pattern anywhere as, although it is based on art deco inspired design, it has been drawn up by one of our illustrators."

Well well, I thought, no wonder I couldn't find it then.  I wrote back, thanking Jovan for this information and - in case you are wondering - didn't push my luck by inquiring where exactly they HAD taken their inspiration from, even if the finished design was original.

So there you have it: new house, new start, "christened" by new bottle of perfume inspired by era of said house.  The last month or two have not been easy for either of us, but I seem to be faring better than I would have expected - there was a mobile health clinic in the town centre today, and out of curiosity I had my blood pressure taken, and it was resoundingly normal. 

Oh, and speaking of blood, did you know that there is a wallpaper with a pattern based on the crystal structure of insulin, and a dress fabric inspired by haeomoglobin...?

Insulin 8.25 (wallpaper)
Crystallographer: Dorothy Hodgkin; designed by Robert Sevant for John Line and Sons

Haemoglobin 8.26 (fabric)
Crystallographer: Max Perutz

Oh, and tonight I had one last google, looking for the similar wallpaper to Juniper Sling that I thought I had seen, and I did come up with this one - Cinema, by Graham & Brown, based on the arches of Art Deco cinemas.  The proportions are different - it is a looser "weave", if you will - and it more of a cream colour, obviously, but the resemblance is otherwise compelling.  Yes, I wonder if this could be the one that inspired the jkr design team?  As I say, I have looked at an awful lot of wallpaper lately... : - )

Juniper Sling pattern

Penhaligon's Ormolu: A "Wormhole" Scent In A Tutu

When I think of the most famous, long-established perfume houses in Britain, the names Penhaligon's and Floris pop immediately into my mind. Grossmith (I always want to put three "s"s) could be a third, but they have not been continuously in business, plus if I associate them with anywhere it is the Middle East! (I am thinking of the scene in the BBC 4 documentary, "Perfume", where Simon Brooke is over in the Gulf region on a sales mission, pitching his line to affluent Arabian customers).

No, it is the other two who are top of mind for me: Penhaligon's in particular, because of the interesting way it has reinvented itself in recent years, since entrusting the development of its perfumes to the ubiquitous "hot nose on the block", Bertrand Duchaufour. Recent launches such as Juniper Sling are thematically rooted in the past while appealing to modern tastes, making for a winning blend of brand heritage and contemporary flair. In fabric terms, this fusion of eras might perhaps translate as moleskin hipster trousers or a drapey, asymmetric wrap-around top made out of tweed. Bizarrely, I actually have one of those - it is Japanese and came from Spitalfields market, so go figure... It has a sort of cummerbund belt thing going on, and really does look quite nice on, in a vaguely Borg-like way. The lapels really are rather pointy...

But the perfume I am featuring today is not from recent years. It is from 1987, and is no longer in production. Mr Bonkers' guitar tech friend Beetmoll - with whom I attended a Perfume Studio workshop two years ago before becoming a sales associate myself for a while - gave me nine Penhaligon's samples plus a mini of Ormolu that he had come across whilst having a clear out of his flat. So how did he come by the mini of a femininine scent, you may ask, and what's with the "Wormhole" reference in the title?

Well, no actual habitats of worms are involved, though goodness knows I am well acquainted with these, after handling dozens of the beggars during a marathon lawn laying session the other weekend to help out a friend. This also meant digging up the tatty remnants of the existing lawn first, and carefully rehoming the not inconsiderable worm diaspora which were unearthed in the process. By the end of the afternoon I could pick up a worm in my gloved hand, instead of coaxing it gingerly - and to not much effect - with a floppy twig.

But I digress: the "Wormhole" of the title refers to the fact that for Beetmoll, the discovery of the Ormolu mini and the other Penhaligon's samples took him right back in time to the early 90s, when he was working with Italian rock band, Zucchero (of "Senza Una Donna" fame). The guitarist, Corrado Rustici, wore a perfume by Penhaligon's which Beetmoll believes was called "Hamman Oil", as distinct from Hamman Bouquet (assuming the latter was ever available in oil form). I have since made inquiries of Penhaligon's, but they were not able to confirm this point one way or the other, so in the meantime Beetmoll is seeing if he can dig out his empty bottle!

And though the precise name of the scent may remain lost in the mists of time, Beetmoll clocked and liked it enough to ask Rustici what it was. Rustici also mentioned that this scent was a favourite of Winston Churchill's, no less! Now I wouldn't have instantly associated a guitarist in a rock band with the stiff upper lip Britishness of distinguised Prime Ministers or the Penhaligon's brand (certainly as it was back then), but there again the perfume world is full of such surprises. Plus Beetmoll tells me that Corrado Rustici was immaculately dressed, and come to think of it Italians are famed for their keen/sharp sense of style.

You should perhaps also know that Beetmoll himself doesn't fit any of the profiles people might associate with the typical Penhaligon's customer - he is no young fogey or dapper metrosexual, for example. Rather, he dresses top to toe in black utility clothing, and sports a glorious long mane of flame-coloured hair that would make Jane Asher weep.

So anyway, Beetmoll bought Hamman Oil a few times until one day it wasn't available, whereupon he switched his allegiance to Hamman Bouquet, also buying Blenheim Bouquet around the same period.

Then he reckons he bought the samples by mail order out of the company's catalogue, again in the early 90s - they served as a "discovery set" (as we might term it today) for his further exploration of the line. The mini of Ormolu is decked out in copious swathes of pale yellow netting, for all the world like a tutu. After some concerted memory-dredging, Beet reckons he may also have bought the mini out of the catalogue, with the idea of giving it to a girlfriend. Instead, it wound up in my possession, two decades later!

Here is the blurb inside the lid of the box:

"Ormolu is a rich perfume. Like the ground gold decoration after which it is named, Ormolu enhances what is already fine. Sophistication is not easily acquired. Equally it takes time to appreciate the complex character of this warm, floral fragrance."

Of course I had to google "ormolu" to find out a bit more about it...As ever, Wikipedia has the scoop. I was especially concerned to read about the gilders' poor life expectancy:

"Ormolu /ˈɔrməluː/ (from French or moulu, signifying ground or pounded gold) is an 18th-century English term for applying finely ground, high-carat gold in a mercury amalgam to an object of bronze. The mercury is driven off in a kiln (leaving behind a gold-colored veneer). ...Due to exposure to the harmful mercury fumes, most gilders did not survive beyond 40 years of age."

The choice of name and the sales copy both point to this being a rich, rather "ornate" perfume, and so it proves.

Top Notes - Armoise, Camomile, Bergamot
Middle Notes - Jasmine, Rose, Violet, Ylang
Base Notes - Sandalwood, Musk, Moss, Amber

The (small sample of) two reviewers on MUA are not overly enthusiastic it must be said, giving it an average rating of 3 out of 5. That's a "meh", pretty much, or slightly better. One is aged 19-24, admittedly.

"Pretty strong stuff and only to be used sparingly. Smell powdery, as the other reviewer has wrote. It reminds me faintly of baby powder, some Chanel classics, with a dark pungent twist. that knocks the back of my nose."

Then there is a lone review of Ormolu by Foetidus on Basenotes, who confirms that the sweetness and powder don't let up for him, and he was not sorry to learn that it was discontinued.

And I must say it isn't really my thing either, but I don't dislike it. With its slightly spiky opening, Ormolu segues into a full-on powdery oriental which manages to smell oldfashioned but not in a kickass retro way, like Le Parfum de Therese or Onda. It reminds me a bit of Guerlain Mayotte or one of the many Carons with "Aimez" in the title, but it has a mossier, more herbally aspect, at least initially, which fights with the floral notes. I wouldn't call it overly sweet though - perhaps my skin amplifies the mossy note. It almost has the vibe of a Grossmith, in fact, though it errs the right side of out-and-out sneezefest, unlike most of that line to my nose. As it wears on the powderiness mutes down, but it doesn't smell distinctly of a particular flower to me at any point, and I can really take it or leave it, to be honest.

But none of that matters, for the fact that Ormolu is stuck in a timewarp - or down a wormhole - is precisely its charm. And not just any wormhole, but Beetmoll's memories of tours all those years ago, and his own perfume epiphany. Readers may be interested to know that he has also run into the band on which Tarleisio's novel, Quantum Demonology, is based (Type O Negative)!

Sadly, as this Hamman Oil continues to elude us, I cannot give you a note listing for Beetmoll's first perfume love and purchase. But here is the lowdown on Hammam Bouquet, which he went on to own, and which was created by William Penhaligon in 1872.

Top notes: lavender and bergamot
Middle notes: Bulgarian rose, orris root, jasmine and cedar
Base notes: sandalwood, amber and musk

I wouldn't say Beet is on the cusp of being afflicted with full scale fumeheadonism, but he does enjoy his Penhaligon's colognes (Opus 1870 is the current favourite!), and for my own part I am delighted to have inherited his tutu-clad Ormolu mini and its unexpected "back(stage) story"...

SINGER ZUCCHERO FORNACIARI PERFORMING AT A FESTIVAL IN DENMARK

Hold on, could that by any chance be a touch of ormolu on that chandelier?


Photo of Corrado Rustici album from lyrics.wikia.com, photo of Hammam Bouquet from lenonma.ru, photo of Zucchero Fornaciari from Jeangagnon via Wikimedia Commons, other photos my own

Penhaligon's Juniper Sling: Thirst Aid For The Roaring Twenties - Or Hotter!

I like a drop of gin. Several drops indeed. Okay, one of those little 40ml metal measuring cup things is my usual portion. Yes, it is mother's milk to me since you are asking, though to my knowledge I have never been known to reek of the stuff. I take gin with lime for preference, though limes shrivel sooner than lemons, I find. Whatever citrus fruit I go for, I always wipe a few cells around the rim of the glass as a finishing touch. "Cells" being a technical term (that doesn't get out nearly enough) for the actual little fibrous globules of fruit.

I also drink Pimm's (another gin-based drink) very happily, though it is more labour-intensive with all that fruit chopping and dashing out to the garden to see if you have any mint, and the only other hard liquor I like is vodka. Well, "like" is overstating it, for what's to like in this most self-effacing and chameleon-like of spirits? No, gin is best, because it has a definite flinty taste of its own. Not unlike the measuring receptacle indeed.

If you are in any doubt about my penchant for gin, here is a statement of personal interests I posted in an Internet forum:

"Messing about on computers (obviously), trashy TV, improving fiction, gym, swimming, writing postcards, drinking gin."

The only thing that has changed there is the sports bit, which I have let lapse, plus I don't really read much improving fiction these days. But to my credit I have conscientiously kept up the gin drinking!

So when the nice people at Penhaligon's announced the launch of Juniper Sling:

"a playful, chilled and mysterious homage to the Bright Young Things of London’s roaring twenties..."

...I was very excited. I think Rose Beyond The Thames's review was the first one I read, right after she attended the launch back in July. Then in August Penhaligon's sent me a decant in a cute little Travalo (of which more later) just as I was leaving for my third trip of the summer to Central Europe; I wore it often over several weeks in the sweltering 35 C heatwave.

In finally getting down to reviewing Juniper Sling I am so late to the party (or "shindig", rather), that not only has everybody gone home, but someone has already painstakingly picked up the discarded cocktail parasols and hoovered up the canapé crumbs. I have to question whether the blogosphere really needs another review, as I did with Nuit de Tubéreuse that time. However, I will stick by my rule, which is that if I love a fragrance, no matter how many other reviews may have gone before me, I will add my own two pennyworth.

Because I do really love Juniper Sling. So much so that I tried to get my brother to let me buy him a bottle for his birthday at the weekend, with the aim of blagging a 5ml decant when I have finished my own samples, but sadly he didn't care for it. It is possibly too light for a man, granted. Partly in staying power (in the conditions in which I wore it, certainly), but also in style. If Chanel's classic cologne were a soprano, Juniper Sling would be a falsetto. Not an ear-piercing one (thought I think the opening of Voyage d'Hermès is that), but Charlotte Church singing Pie Jesu, say.

Juniper Sling belongs to my category of "prickly citrus fragrances" - "pétillant", as the French say - initially at least. Just like tonic water, frankly. It is also very, very cold, again like tonic water - assuming you remembered to put a few tins of Schweppes in the fridge first and also to freeze the ice cubes. So it has a foot in the "cryogenic perfume" camp too, along with other physically cooling scents like Chanel's La Pausa, Ava Luxe No 23 and L'Artisan's Timbuktu.

I was going to call this post: "My Go-To 'Oh My Gosh It Is So Incredibly Hot' Scent", but it seemed like even more of a mouthful than my usual titles, so I thought better of it. And there is also a parallel with Wimbledon I'd like to mention, namely with the incomparable thirst quencher that is Robinson's Barley Water. And just as tennis players need to repeatedly knock back pints of this iconic lemon squash, so I found myself frequently reapplying Juniper Sling in August. Every time the juice hit my skin, it was instantly and wonderfully cooling. As I said in a tweet somewhere from my travels, this stuff should be available on prescription - for headaches and general heat-induced malaise! It is the scent equivalent of 4Head, which is my constant companion and deserves a post in its own right sometime.

Without further ado, here are the notes:

Head Notes: Cinnamon, Orange Brandy, Angelica, Juniper Berry

Heart Notes: Cardamom, Leather, Black Pepper, Orris Wood

Base Notes: Brown Sugar, Black Cherry, Vetiver, Ambrox

I should explain that the icy opening is not really created by classic citrus notes as such, but more a mix of angelica, juniper and shedloads of pepper, which is fine by me. I also love the powdery iris heart and the gourmand notes in the drydown (Olivier Cresp was the nose behind Angel, so you would expect nothing less).

It was inspired of Cresp to team up this cooling tingling cologne with a warmer base, for it could have ended up a bit thin and one-dimensional, which is the beef I have with Voyage d'Hermès, sadly. The lime note there is also too sharp, but I do see similarities in "vibe" with Juniper Sling, not least the cool metallic bottle. Which neatly takes us back to our gin measuring cup - or jigger, as I believe it is properly known.

Now here's a funny thing...I have just reapplied Juniper Sling today, and the weather is downright wintry outside, some 20 degrees cooler than when I last wore it. I still get that cold gin-like blast in the opening, but it warms up much quicker and I am already at the muzzy iris and leather stage after a minute or two. Which is perfect for the prevailing conditions.

So is Juniper Sling also an "intelligent" perfume, like those windscreen wipers that come on automatically or washing machines that instinctively detect a small load? Does this perfume sense the ambient temperature and bypass the chilly stage to suit our suddenly dreary British weather?

In the time it has taken me to type the paragraph above, I have moved on to a phase that is boozy and liqueur-like. Not too sickly, mind, possibly thanks to the vetiver or the cool woody undertow of the ambroxan. All the facets of this scent are enjoyable in fact, and it is squarely in my "understated" camp, which is why I love it so much.

I shall be wearing Juniper Sling tonight and enjoying my usual G & T. I might just push the boat out with a small bowl of Twiglets and watch a bit of the Jackson trial on Sky News. Why, that almost qualifies as a little shindig of my own!



Below is Rose Beyond The Thames's review (complete with luscious photos), and some other reviews I have enjoyed over the summer.

Rose Beyond The Thames

Perfume Shrine

Nick's review - my evil gin twin!

G & T and That

The Candy Perfume Boy

Finally, though I am not very good at embedding things, here is a link to the Penhaligon's site and its whimsical promotional "mockumentary" for the scent:

Penhaligon's video


Photo of gin jigger from bargizmos.co.uk, roaring twenties poster from awesomedna.com, photo of G & T from cocktailtimes.com, photo of Robinson's Barley Water from google images, pack shot from Penhaligon's, photo of Hendrick's gin from theprodigalguide.com, other photos my own.

Penhaligon's Elixir - Pulpit or Pulling Scent?

The day I was in Zürich on my solo sniffathon, specifically when I was in a branch of Starbucks above a bookshop, peering at the price list to see what exorbitant sums they wanted for a cup of Tazo tea (with milk!), my mobile rang. It was a Swedish friend of mine, who was spending a few days in London and felt an urge to call me from a branch of Penhaligon's to tell me she had just bought a bottle of Elixir.

Well, my first reaction was puzzlement, as I thought I knew the whole line, but Elixir was a new one on me. My friend described the notes to me over the phone, and I have since found the whole list on NSTperfume:

"eucalyptus steam, cardamom, orange blossom, cedar, Turkish rose, jasmine, cinnamon, mace, rosewood, benzoin, tonka bean, vanilla, incense, red sandalwood and guaicum wood."

It sounded like a woody oriental, and is in fact a masculine, which may explain why it wasn't on my radar. The perfumer is Olivia Giacobetti, she of the enviable cheek bones and creator of minimalist ethereal beauties like FM En Passant, Diptyque Philosykos and L'Artisan The pour un Ete. That said, she is also the nose behind Idole Lubin, which is a scent with boozy, spicy heft.

The SA apparently positioned Elixir to my friend as a "pulling scent", and I was very excited about this, as I already consider several woody-incensey orientals to have that important property (important in an altogether theoretical way in my case, you understand): Ormonde Jayne Ta'if, Kenzo Flower Oriental and Tauer's L'Air du Désert Marocain to name three.

So I rang the Penhaligon's mail order line and they kindly sent out a sample of Elixir, plus one each of their new Orange Blossom EDT and Eau de Cologne (which deserve their own review).

On Saturday, to motivate me to double dig the flower beds and de-dandelion the drive, I applied Elixir for the first time. In the opening I got a dusty, spicy note that reminded me very much of SL Femininité du Bois and a little of DSH Nourouz (the scent formerly known as Tamarind Paprika). This quickly morphed into straight up church incense, but a very soft version of same - like DKNY Black Cashmere but less piquant, or like Etro Messe de Minuit, but mercifully devoid of its foetid flagstone note. A bit like Heeley Cardinal even, but without the Lemon Cif riff. And the whole tone of Elixir is even quieter, even more zen-like and meditative than any of those mentioned above.

Today I tried Elixir again. Now it may well be that the perfume was understandably apprehensive about my forthcoming review, for it decided to show me a few more facets this time. Today I get the incense still as the dominant note, but it is partnered with more woody notes and the rose. I would be lying if I said I got any jasmine or orange, mind.

On balance, it is still a little too incense-y, but it is very beautiful in a bone dry, austere, Simeon Stylites kind of a way. Could I pull someone wearing this? Hmm, if I was on one of those retreats where burnt-out business people go to detox, paint, learn reiki, gamelan drums and generally how to be their Best Possible Self, then I would say most certainly.
In Stafford's local nightspots, frequented by gaggles of 20-something girls with exposed midriffs and vertiginous heels, I am not sure it would quite cut the hair gel. Beyonce Heat or Britney's Midnight Fantasy might be nearer the mark.

Me, I will happily continue to wear Elixir whenever I want to escape the hurly burly of the working week. It is a fragrant way to achieve inner calm without having to focus on my core breathing or contort myself into a Downward Facing Dog.