A Tauering oversight! - Tableau de Parfums Miriam and Noontide Petals reviews

Summertime by Ash Straker ~ Source: deviantart.com

Andy Tauer is one of the most accessible and 'interactive' perfumers in the niche sector. He reveals a lot about his work - and his life generally - through his blog, and is active on Facebook, engaging with readers and fans through posts, competitions and the odd polemic.  Here he is in his hotel room in Chicago, there he is catching a plane to Russia (I use the term 'Russia' loosely).  Although I have never met him, I've been several times to the bookshop in the Spiegelgasse in Zurich run by his friend and carrying his perfume range, and have ambled in streets with which he must be very familiar.  Yes, Andy Tauer feels almost 'hautnah' (literally 'skin near' in German, or perhaps 'up close and personal'), plus I know several people who have met him... Why, Freddie of Smellythoughts has had dinner with Andy Tauer and Vero Kern - at the same time no less! - while Sheila Eggenberger of The Alembicated Genie caught up with him at Pitti Fragranze in Florence last month.  Okay, so I haven't actually met Sheila either, but you know how it is...;-) Then of course I did once see a remarkable Doppelgaenger of Andy Tauer at a popular nightspot in Edinburgh.  And back in 2008, when my interest in perfume was relatively new, I won a sample set in an Advent giveaway, and I am sure I still have the handwritten card that came with it stashed away somewhere...

And maybe, in hindsight - or im Nachhinein, as the lovely German phrase goes - I had too much exposure to Andy Tauer's line too soon, before my taste had become robust/evolved enough to appreciate his work. For with the exception of the transcendental L'Air du Désert Marocain, that dusty-ambery-spicy rose scent inspired by an arid wind wafting the curtains of a Moroccan hotel in the early evening breeze, none of the early releases worked for me.  I found the 'Tauerade' base in most of them - to borrow March of Perfume Posse's amusing coinage for their signature drydown - too raspy and scratchy, in a wire wool-ish kind of a way.

Medieval, Andy Tauer's friend's bookshop in Zurich 

But over the years one or two of Tauer's later creations seemed exceptions to this - Carillon pour un Ange, for example, though even that scent had a distinctive metallic tang, in a clear case of 'galvanising the lily'.  I didn't mind Zeta either, which also had this metal facet that never tips over into abrasive Brillo pad territory. Orange Star, meanwhile, I struggled with on account of soap, not metal, and when I was in Paris in June with Undina, I dismissed Noontide Petals on similar grounds.

The next thing that happened was that Freddie gave me a sample of Tableau de Parfums Miriam to try and I was immediately smitten.

Notes: fresh citrus accord, geranium, violet blossom, rose, jasmine, ylang, violet leaf, lavender, vanilla, orris root, sandalwood

Source: luckyscent.com

There is a slight sparkle of citrus and aldehydes in abundance in the opening, but they were ultra quiet, like the vibration of many tiny humming birds' wings, or bubbles of Prosecco streaming to the top of a flute.  And I am not talking about the violent fizzing of a cheapo bottle of Highland Spring here, but more along the lines of a delicate 'petillance'.  Or - if anyone has ever had physio delivered by one of those machines that massages your muscles with micro-pulses - it was the olfactory equivalent of that mildly buzzing sensation. Not unlike the polishing brush at the dentist, come to think of it - you know, the one with the insane tickle!  Yes, I found Miriam pin prickingly effervescent, elegant and feminine, and vintage / retro in feel.

I can best sum up the general style of Miriam as 'finely milled Chanel No 5' - or Le Dix perhaps, on account of the greater presence of violet.  It is more restrained than either of those, more dialled back, making it more wearable in my book.  And greener and earthier and more chypre-ish than those two.  Kind of 'murky' or 'muddy' to be honest, but not in a bad way.  Can you have aldehydic murk?  Clearly you can in my world, and on my wrist.  In fact the more times I tried it, the less citrus and fizz and the more of this earthy quality I got instead, as if the brightest of the aldehydes had actually risen to the top of the vial, and I was now sniffing the olfactory 'lees', which were still nice.  Oh, and in its final stages Miriam assumes a smooth yet powdery, snuffed out quality, which is also lovely.  In short, Miriam has all the good attributes of a vintage fragrance and none of the bad (aggressive aldehydes, aggressive galbanum, aggressive oakmoss or animalic notes etc).

Heartened by this unexpected epiphany, I decided to fish out my sample of Noontide Petals next, and before spraying it on I studied the notes.

Top notes: bergamot, aldehydes, Bourbon geranium
Heart notes: rose, ylang, tuberose, jasmine
Base notes: patchouli, frankincense, vanilla, sandalwood, iris, with a hint of styrax and vetiver

Why, I thought, I absolutely should love this one, especially as we are talking just a 'hint' of styrax, and not the industrial quantities found in Yatagan or Amouage Tribute Attar.  So this time I decided to tough out the detergent stage and see what came next, which I had not had the patience to do at the time of my visit to Jovoy.  And was I glad I did!  For Noontide Petals gradually moved through into a phase which, while still soapy, was less detergenty so and more plain clean, cut with a bright lemony sherbet facet, like shafts of sunlight poking through a veil of cloud.

Or like Pez sweets, actually.  Does anyone remember collecting the different dispensers?  It may have been the ylang making its first appearance, as that has a zingy tang to it.  Whatever its origin, the cheerful sherbet note remained throughout the rest of the development, but the best was yet to come, for eventually the big white florals loomed into olfactory view, a veritable glowing orb of them, as the sun burnt through more of the soapy haze.  If I am honest, I would reduce the soapy quality in this if I could, but the florals are just about radiant enough to hold their own.

So I would be interested to know - how is your own hit rate with Tauer Perfumes?  

How do you get on with 'Tauerade', metal or soap - if you detect these elements indeed?

And have you - like me - had any late onset epiphanies with the range? 

Finally, here is Graeme, the Andy Tauer lookalike again - funnily enough, I am going back to that same venue tomorrow and will be sure to look out for him!

Solo Sniffing In Zurich: Armani Privé La Femme Bleue, Hermès Santal Massoia, BLOOD Concept, And The Sample-Scoring Power Of A Good Coat

After meeting my perfumista friends in Basel, I headed for Zurich, and spent a couple of hours in the Bahnhofstrasse (Zurich's "Golden Mile" in perfume terms). I retraced the steps of my ill-fated sniffathon with Potiron last summer, when I was suffering from a humdinger of a migraine aggravated by the blistering August heat. On this occasion it was a perfectly crisp autumn day with a slight nip in the air, and my head was as clear as the blue sky above me.

I only had a couple of hours before continuing my journey to St Gallen, so I was pretty focused in my sniffing tactics, deffing out the less upmarket options, and targeting instead the smarter department stores (Globus and Jelmoli), along with the niche perfumery Osswald and the Hermès boutique.

GLOBUS

As soon as I entered the cool slate-grey interior of the store, I had vivid memories of being violently sick in the ladies' toilets on my previous visit. As it happens, I had occasion to use the facilities this time, and revelled in how well I felt by comparison!

Fending off the sales assistant who did her damnedest to sell me a boxed set of Valentino Valentina, I had a quick whiff of Annick Goutal Mon Parfum Chéri, par Camille. I don't know if it was the EDT or the EDP, but it was a patchouli-fest that I felt had the potential to trigger another headache, something I was determined to avoid at all costs.

Moving on, my eye was soon distracted by the new Limited Edition release from Armani Privé, La Femme Bleue... Its polished gleaming flacon stood in splendid isolation on a plinth, like an ancient rune crossed with a bluebottle. The blue theme is linked to Armani's Spring/Summer Fashion Collection, which is inspired in turn by "the Tuareg woman, a blue nomad crossing the desert". What between this and Vivienne Westwood's Anglomania, I seem to be bumping into a number of scents aimed at the travelling woman, even if my wardrobe is somewhat lighter on navy ensembles than your average Tuareg.

The sales assistant explained that the production of this perfume has been limited to 1000 numbered bottles for "1000 exceptional women" - exceptional no doubt, because any woman who wouldn't flinch at dropping 400 euros on one of these bottles clearly has money to burn. I must say I spotted a fair few likely candidates cruising the Bahnhofstrasse.

Note listings vary for this scent: the SA mentioned iris and chocolate, while Perfume Shrine also lists woodsy notes, incense and vanilla. The overall vibe of La Femme Bleue is of an elegant, soft powdery oriental: I liked the teaming of the cooler, more severe iris with the warmer, cosier gourmand notes of the chocolate and vanilla. In hindsight it seems fitting that I should be featuring this and Valentina in the space of a week. For it appears that while my Wikio Beauty Blog rating may be languishing in the lower quartiles, I now have an up and coming chocolate Klout reputation to maintain!

The other notable fragrance I sampled in Globus was Prescriptives Calyx. I made a point of reminding myself how this scent smelt because of a chance remark by a reader of my Illuminum White Gardenia Petals Review:

"My bottle that I bought in late April must be from the second 'duff' batch, and I actually like it much better. I described it at the time as being like Prescriptives' Calyx, and as not smelling of gardenia at all."

Well, the opening of Calyx reminded me very much of the official version of White Gardenia Petals - the same tangy, green, airy and almost watery vibe. I wouldn't say I got gardenia in the opening particularly, but there was a definite similarity in the tart, metallic, juicy greenness. Then blow me if the later stages didn't remind me equally markedly of the wrong version of the Illuminum fragrance! - the more softly floral, musky variant. So that was all very strange, and now I would like to get my hands on a sample of Calyx to try the side-by-side comparison at more leisure.

JELMOLI

After Globus, I popped into Jelmoli, the Harvey Nicks to Globus's Selfridges. I whizzed through the niche area, quickly testing Guerlain 04 London, the latest in the Les Voyages Olfactifs Series.

Notes: sheer rose, violet, warm cardamom with sour gourmand nuances of rhubarb.

The SA mentioned the rhubarb note and also tea, those two quintessentially British food- and drinkstuffs...! (Well, I'll given them the tea.) When I sampled it on card I thought I got a huge and offputting whoosh of grapefruit, but maybe it was the "sour gourmand nuances" of the rhubarb. :- ) Incredibly tart, certainly. Despite the SA's best efforts to woo me with a complimentary bottle-engraving option, I moved on to the Tom Ford counter and tried Jasmin Rouge on a card. It was a rich, spicy floral, not really my thing, but better than expected. For some reason I thought it might be an animalic monster like Rochas Femme.

Next up was the Jo Malone counter, where I really liked the new Wild Bluebell cologne. It had all the soft fragrance of the flower without the sharp tinny quality of the Penhaligon's version, the only other bluebell scent I know.

Notes: clove, jasmine, bluebell, lily of the valley, persimmon, eglantine, amber and musk.

Working my good coat for the first time, I boldly requested a sample and the sales assistant opened her drawer without demur. Imagine my disappointment to realise later that she had given me a sample of Grapefruit cologne (presumably in error). Grapefruit, of all things! (Note to self to read the name on the vial before leaving the store...)

Still in Jelmoli, and on a sample-scoring roll, I went across to the Chanel sales assistant and played my "on a mission for a friend who is keen to try this scent and lives in a remote rural area" card, in a bid to wangle a sample of Chanel No 19 Poudré. I was passed over to two other SAs before the drawer magically opened again, but this time I was in luck and got Poudré and not Idylle or Mademoiselle.

In another part of the Guerlain area I was lured over by the curious spectacle of the SA fluttering a clutch of oversized feathers in garish colours that put me in mind of a burlesque dancer. Moments later, I was myself peeping coyly out from behind a feather pre-sprayed with Nuit d'Amour, a rather lightweight floral oriental.

Notes: pink pepper, lychee, rose, violet, rose, iris, sandalwood, musk

Nuit d'Amour was launched as an Exclusive just a year after my - and now also Olfactoria's! - beloved Plus Que Jamais. Sadly, given that Plus Que Jamais has been discontinued, Nuit d'Amour doesn't share the former's affecting Guerlinade base, but has more of a contemporary musky drydown. It was pleasant but not particularly memorable, and went a bit soapy in its later stages. As we were playing the dance of the giant feathers, the SA explained that Nuit d'Amour was partly inspired by a Klimt painting depicting a redheaded lady and a boa. This unexpected variant of the fragrance blotter suddenly made a lot more sense!

I also had a sniff of Liu while I was there (oh, dear me, no!), and clocked the sparkly Christmas edition of Vol de Nuit Shimmer Powder with a gimmick-hardened eye, before briefly scoping the designer fixtures. Here I was mildly intrigued by Givenchy's Dahlia Noir, mainly because of its film noir connotations, but the SA was unable to tell me anything about it or its key notes. "We have so many perfumes on the shelves", she sighed, with a dismissive sweep of one arm, adding helpfully: "You could look it up on the Internet?" So I did, and can report that the notes are nice enough if not groundbreaking.

Notes: mandarin, pink pepper, mimosa, rose, iris, patchouli, sandalwood, vanilla and tonka bean.

I don't remember Dahlia Noir very well except as a pleasantly smooth modern chypre of some kind. Significantly though it lacked the plasticky note that spoils a lot of Givenchys for me, and that alone made me sit up and take notice. Here is a good example of the "least worst syndrome" in action which we were discussing the other day! Well, that is not quite fair, as I did actually like Dahlia Noir, so you could say that my favourable response was amplified to "like a lot", as opposed to mere indifference being upgraded to "like".

HERMES

My next port of call was the Hermès boutique, scene of my finest moment of working the good coat in pursuit of samples, in this case the newest addition to the Hermessences range, Santal Massoia. I played the same "friend in remote location" card, giving it a further twist of "with upcoming birthday", and the ploy worked better than my wildest dreams. For the assistant popped not one but TWO 4ml vials into one of those little orange holders, so that I wouldn't have to go without a sample myself. How thoughtful of her! And what a shameless display of low cunning on my part!

I couldn't find a definitive note listing for Santal Massoia, but there is sandalwood and massoia in here, obviously, and beyond that we have this description of the scent from Jean-Claude Ellena himself.

"There are linear, vertical woods like cedar, and others that are horizontal, round, supple and velvet-smooth, such as sandalwood and massoia. With this understanding in mind, I composed this enigmatic, inviting yet distant perfume of milky woods, with its unusual, pungent hints of resin and dried fruit, and familiar smells of dulce de leche and flowers."

Well, having tried Santal Massoia on skin now several times, I don't think I need to add anything more to Ellena's description, for this surely is "enigmatic" and nuanced milky woods. There's a slightly darker, spicy edge to it, but none of that "trapped in a tea chest" vibe you sometimes get when you put two types of woods together in a fragrance, especially if one of them is cedar, which can come off as quite rough and scratchy. Texturally, Santal Massoia reminds me a bit of Etro Etra, which has pepper and sandalwood and is also very smooth. Much as I love Etra, Santal Massoia smells more subtle and "luxe".

Now I did find that Santal Massoia doesn't last very long on me, but I rarely mark a perfume down for that, and will be happy to reapply it from me and my imaginary friend's generous vial allocation, which more than paid for the hideously expensive left luggage lockers at the station...

OSSWALD

Rather foolishly - a bit like our MO in Basel - I left the most prestigious perfume store to the end, by which time I had used up most of the prime skin sites, and damn near exhausted both nose and brain. So my sniffing in Osswald was more perfunctory than it should have been, and I kicked myself for not heading there first.

I noticed on this visit that Osswald now carries the full range of Illuminum scents, and had a quick check of White Gardenia Petals (correct, greener version!). I also sniffed the four scents in the BLOOD Concept range, which is founded on the rather offbeat notion of choosing scents to match your blood type. However, I gather that crossover is by no means discouraged, as people may be drawn to the characteristics of a different type.

Well, I have no clue what blood type I am, but I only remotely cared for O, the original blood group. (This was once again very much on a "least worst" basis, I should make clear!) As for the official description of O by Giovanni Castelli and Antonia Zuddas, the innovative duo behind BLOOD Concept - why, I certainly didn't see that one coming... : - ) They might as well have called this scent The Marquise Of O!

"It had to be the most intense and wild compared to the whole range. We wanted roots, cuir and wild berries, a carnal and sexual composition of raw elements. When getting into its whiff, people should think of sex, raw and instinctual sex."

Notes: thyme, raspberry, cyperus esculentus, rose hips, leather, birch, cedar wood, metallic notes

Hmm, I wonder if I actually am O... If you read the potted history of blood group evolution on Fragrantica, I sound more like A or B really, as a vegetable-eating person who toggles between a travelling and sedentary lifestyle.

"(After O) Then comes A, when people started to eat vegetables and get more sedentary. Then B, when people started to travel and mix habits and foods."

For descriptions of all four scents, check out BLOOD Concept's Facebook page. As I say, I really didn't like any of the others - they were just too weird and disagreeable. So if you ask me - and as it proved with the Andrea Maack range - this range is another example of a quirky concept taking precedence over wearability. And coincidentally, like a couple of the Maack scents, all four of the BLOOD Concept scents contain metallic notes, though that is no more than you would expect really, given what they are! : - )

In Osswald I also tried the new Miller Harris La Fumée and La Pluie (which smelt much as their names suggest, but didn't wow me particularly), and had a quick sniff of the nozzles of the Olfactive Studio range, which weren't my thing at all. However, I quite liked one of the bafflingly various Biehl Kunstwerke range, a pretty white floral called mb01 (I always have time for another take on tuberose gardenia, or any loose variation on that theme).

Notes: bergamot, mimosa, blackcurrant, tuberose, gardenia, champaca, jasmine, amber, musk, sandalwood.

Then I couldn't help liking the ultra-cute packaging of Swiss range YsUzac (though the four scents left my - admittedly by now deeply jaded - nose unmoved). All in all though, it was a good couple of hours' work, what with the samples of Santal Massoia and Chanel No 19 Poudré, after discounting the Wild Bluebell wild card sample that wasn't. Sadly that is all the time I had, having lost a good 20 minutes out of my schedule when I got sidetracked by a large branch of Zara. I ended up trying on an armful of trousers, which collectively failed to fit in every way imaginable. There was also a set of Zara fragrances I could have investigated, but on such a day that would have been above and beyond the call of duty.




Photo of the Bahnhofstrasse from sengers.ch, photo of Globus from buildingtechnologies.siemens.com, photo of La Femme Bleue from giorgioarmanibeauty.com, photo of Calyx, 04 London and Biehl Kunstwerke mb01 from fragrantica.com, photo of Wild Bluebell advert from jomalone.co.uk, photo of Klimt painting from canvasreplicas.com, photo of Dahlia Noir advert from blog.purentonline.com, photo of Hermès store from global-blue.com, photo of Hermès bottle from the company website, photo of Osswald perfumerie from abelerbro.com, photo of BLOOD Concept logo from artnectar.com, other photo my own (taken by hotel receptionist whose hand could have been a bit more steady).

A Midsummer Bonkers Road Trip: The Perfume Bit - An Ill-Fated Sniffathon In Zürich

I find it strange to credit that a whole week has gone by and I have not written a single blog post. That happens routinely when I go away, but it is the first time in the history of Bonkers that I have been so majorly sidetracked whilst at home that blogging intentions have gone completely out of the window.

But as my Facebook friends know, I may have been at home, yet this has been far from a normal week. For in that time I have managed to cobble together another, longer road trip: I will be away for two and a half weeks this time, in seven countries. Okay, so that sort of excuses last week's posting hiatus, but I thought to myself that I simply cannot go off again tomorrow without at least finishing the account of the last trip, so here is the final instalment. And a very sorry tale it is too.

I found myself unexpectedly free one day of the second week, and arranged to meet Potiron from Basenotes in Zürich. When it comes to fumehead hook ups, Potiron and I are veterans, having already met three times in Basel: twice with Wordbird and Alicka61, and once on our own. This time Potiron was kind enough to offer to meet me in Zürich rather than Basel (where she lives), to save me making the detour west when my meetings were in the opposite direction.

We were due to meet in the Bahnhofstrasse, Zürich's "Golden Mile" in terms of perfume retailing, at about 2pm. I had driven down from Germany that morning in my very hot hire car - with the blower on at full blast in the absence of air con - and by the time I checked into my hotel in the suburbs, I realised that my burgeoning headache might just be shaping up to be a full blown migraine. The fact that I was copiously sick moments later tended to confirm this.

But there was no way I was going to miss this meeting with Potiron, whom I hadn't seen for a year or so, and who had taken the trouble to come a fair distance to meet me at my base. Nor did I want to forfeit the chance to sniff the latest releases in Zürich's finest perfume emporia, given that I might not be passing this way again for some time. I hadn't been to the Bahnhofstrasse since a solo visit in March 2010, so there would clearly be lots of new stuff to try.

How different my afternoon with Potiron panned out compared with the previous packed sniffing itinerary, when I took in no fewer than ten different stores!

I finally made it downtown by about 2.30pm or so, having kept Potiron informed by text of my progress on the tram ride to the centre. The first thing I did was sit on a bench, where Potiron found me - looking decidedly feeble and lacklustre. We agreed that the best plan of action would be to go for a drink first in a nearby cafe - in the shade, as I was troubled by the bright light. So troubled in fact that I chatted to Potiron with my eyes closed much of the time, which isn't terribly sociable.

Midway through our stay at the cafe, I sensed that I was going to be sick again, and scurried inside, my hand covering my mouth as a preventative measure. Unfortunately, the ladies toilet appeared to be locked, so I went up to the bar and mimed the action of a key turning, not daring to take the other hand away from my mouth. Recognising the urgency of my request, the bartender abandoned her capuccino-maker in mid-froth and escorted me back downstairs and into the gent's toilets, where I was promptly sick again.

I thought I might perk up after this, but it was not to be. After our tea we sat in a grassy square for a bit, but there wasn't much shade and the noise and glaring sunshine continued to disturb me. So we headed inside Globus, Zürich's most upmarket department store, whose cool, air conditioned, dark grey interior had an instant calming effect, though my migraine raged on apace...

We headed up to the perfumery department and had only been cruising the aisles for a few minutes before I had to dash to the ladies again - though not before I had pointed Potiron in the direction of Prada Infusion de Vétiver, which I remembered coming across in the men's section last year, and there it was still.

Having thrown up for the third time, I sat for a while on the cold tiled floor of the cubicle - also a soothing shade of charcoal - thinking this was probably the darkest and coolest place in the whole of Zürich. Realistically though, it was not a place where one could reasonably spend more than a few minutes, and I rejoined Potiron in the fragrance department, rallying just long enough to complete our perfunctory browsing of the fixtures. Potiron tried some Serge Lutens - I don't recall which ones, and felt too delicate to test any myself, in case I accidentally lit upon a camphoraceous or boozy spice number that would have been my nemesis even had I been in robust health.

After Globus we walked very slowly - for along with light and noise, I was averse to physical activity - down the Bahnhofstrasse to Osswald, the jewel in the crown in terms of Zürich's perfumeries. Had I been feeling better, we would doubtless have had a nose round the discount retailer, Import-Parfümerie, or checked out a branch or two of Marionnaud or Douglas. Not to mention the other department stores left unexplored this time, like Manor or Jelmoli. Knowing that we were on borrowed time in terms of my staying power, we were careful instead to target only the most prestigious outlets!

Sadly though, even in this fragrance mecca I couldn't summon up much enthusiasm. My brief attempts at sampling were interspersed with longer bouts of sitting down - as discreetly as I could muster - on the wooden ledge surrounding the wall displays. I limited myself to smelling just a handful of scents I had been wanting to try. Under normal circumstances - as on my trip to Berlin earlier this year - I might well have taken a perfume house previously unknown to me, like Memo on that occasion, and systematically sniffed my way through the entire line.

In accordance with this tightly focused strategy(!), I spotted the Xerjoff range prominently displayed on a table near the front of the store, and homed in immediately on Oesel. I tested it on a prime skin site, remembering Olfactoria's hugely enthusiastic review of it recently. It reminded me of a more vivid and luscious version of Penhaligon's Orange Blossom cologne, maybe with a slug of Jo Malone's Orange Blossom tipped in to make it really zing. I remember Oesel as rich and radiant, and I also detected similarities - both stylistically and in terms of the actual notes - with Ajne Bloom de Nuit, though it is a while since I have smelt that one:

AJNE BLOOM DE NUIT

Notes: neroli, citrus fruit, green leaves, rock rose, amber and sandalwood.

XERJOFF OESEL

Notes: orange blossom, petitgrain, Bulgarian rose, Sambac jasmine, mimosa, white flowers, Indian patchouli, cedar and tobacco flower.

Ajne scents, doubtless due to their being all-natural, have this unique, Dolby surround sound quality, of which you occasionally find bright echoes in other high end fragrances. DelRae Début is a lily of the valley and citrus scent, but it has that same sunshine-y, almost palpably tangy quality as the floral Ajnes, and Oesel is in similar vein. It is a great tribute to Oesel that I liked it so much in my fragile state, and that such a fulsome fragrance managed to beguile rather than repel. It beguiled and persisted on skin well into the next morning, outlasting my headache by some 12 hours!

I also tested DelRae's Coup de Foudre on skin, and didn't dislike it, but can't remember much about it - it can't have been all that remarkable, notwithstanding my impaired faculties. I retried the softly musky Geste from Humiecki & Graef, but that didn't set my world alight either, though I think Potiron may have pronounced it her favourite of the scents I sprayed on skin.

I had a sniff of two new Byredos, Palermo and Sunday Cologne. Palermo was too herby and acerbic, while Sunday Cologne was pleasant but entirely forgettable. I will stick with Gypsy Water, with its slight undercurrent of mystery lent by the incense. Then I tested both Maison Martin Margiela Untitled and Untitled L'Eau on skin. The latter was a tad sharper, but I think I quite liked both. They were green and citrussy and that is all I can dredge up from the memory banks. Nuls points for the boring minimalist packaging though, which appears to be trying to rival Le Labo's apothecary bottles in the clinical blandness department.

Now Ormonde Jayne had been launched in Osswald since I was last there, and it was nice to see this very familiar British brand so far from home. The line had its own portion of shelving, while the tester bottles - along with explanatory cards about each scent - were dotted around the store at regular intervals, like scented stations of the cross, if that is not too crass an image!

Once Potiron and I had exhausted Osswald, or more correctly, once Osswald had exhausted me, we repaired to a shady bench a few yards away to consider our next move. We opted to make one last assault on the book shop in the Spiegelgasse that stocks Andy Tauers, where we got to try Zeta for the first time, and I even blagged a small sample. I say "even", because this shop couldn't be more different from chains like Douglas, where hustling for samples is standard perfumista procedure.

Zeta was to linden what Carillon pour un Ange is to lily of the valley. Both have a distinctly metallic character - with Zeta Tauer is clearly "galvanising the lime". I joked with the shop proprietor about the fact that The Pentachords weren't available to test in their homeland, and he remarked ruefully that perfumers aren't necessarily celebrated - or their creations showcased - in their own country. I may be paraphrasing slightly, but it was something along those lines.

After another cup of tea in a shady square nearby, I had shot my bolt, staminawise, and we made our way back to the train station, where Potiron caught the 7pm train back to Basel. I jumped on a tram across the street, and was tucked up in my darkened hotel room by 7.15pm.

So it wasn't my finest hour as sniffathons go, but I am glad I got round the places we did, and was pleased to see Potiron even under these difficult circumstances. Looking back, it was a good job that I knew her already, so I felt able to be so conspicuously ill in her company without either of us batting an eyelid. Oh, and I took this photo of Potiron, but didn't feel like having mine taken in return. That might have been a Photoshop challenge too far!

PS Waiting for me when I got home was a surprise package from Bonkers reader Tara, containing - by a spooky coincidence - a generous decant of Zeta! She had clocked my comments on other blogs about this scent, saying how much I would like to sniff it, and had the kind thought to send me some from her new bottle. Pictured in the photo below is Charlie Bonkers helping me sort the post the day after I got back. Remarkably, she didn't knock the Zeta atomiser over...




Pboto of Bahnhofstrasse from fineartamerica.com, photo of cafe from blogger-index.com, photo of Globus from buildingtechnologies.siemens.com, photo of Osswald from ormondejayne.com, photo of Oesel from parfumsraffy.com, photo of Untitled from highsnobiety.com, other photos my own

Tauer Carillon Pour Un Ange: Galvanising The Lily

I like Switzerland. I go there quite often for work. Why, I even have an expired 2010 vignette on my car, which permitted me to make unlimited use of the country's scenic and densely betunnelled motorway network last year. I also like Andy Tauer, who is THE perfumer everyone associates with Switzerland. Following a tip off from Wordbird, I have visited the Aladdin's Cave of a little bookshop run by his friend in the Spiegelgasse in Zurich. It famously inspired the creation of Le Maroc pour Elle, and cheek by jowl with the books and art cards, the full range of Tauer scents is displayed in the doorway, bizarrely suspended on pieces of string.

Now I have never met the man himself, but there are quite a few of us out in the blogosphere with his handwritten compliments slips, which we have squirrelled away with other fragrance keepsakes, or - in my own case - stuck up on my office pinboard next to the business cards of a couple of other olfactory benefactors. This perfumer is not only very generous with his prize draws - I won a set of samples during the Advent series of 2008 - but he does his own mail outs. Yes, on the basis of these little notes and his blog, Andy Tauer comes across as friendly and approachable. He hikes, he cooks, he is like one of us! Well, except for the hiking, the cooking and the famous and talented nose part. Speaking for myself, anyway. And if I ever were to meet him, I could speak to him in German! Though not his native Swiss German - goodness me, no.

So given the fact that I have always warmed to Andy Tauer as a person, it has been a source of regret to me over the past three years of this hobby that I haven't had a very good "strike rate" with his perfumes, by which I mean I have only liked a small proportion of the total line. Well, pretty much only L'Air du Désert Marocain up to this point, which continues to exert a visceral pull with its haunting blend of rock rose, bone dry cedar and dusty spices, warmed by a soft amber base. The image conjured up by this scent is perfectly summed up by its creator:

'Imagine finding peace in a room, lying on the bed, exhausted from the heat of the day, with the window open, letting the cool air in which still is very dry and filled with the scents from the near desert and overlayed with the spicy scents of the streets below.'

Notes: Coriander, Petitgrain (Bitter orange), Lemon, Bergamot, Jasmin, Cistus, Bourbon, Geranium, Cedarwood, Vetiver, Vanille, Patchouli and Ambergris

L'Air du Désert Marocain is one of the most affecting perfumes I have ever smelt, which I wouldn't say of all the fragrances I am very drawn to or find easy to wear. I should perhaps add that I only love L'Air du Désert Marocain (henceforth LADDM for short) when it has been on for an hour or so, as it is a bit intense and raspy to start with. Which brings me on to the reason why I may have problems appreciating most of the other scents in the range, namely the Tauer "house accord" aka "Tauerade". This term, coined by Marina of Perfumesmellingthings in her review of Tauer's Orris, is the subject of a recent post by Josephine of Notes from Josephine, in which she wrestles with her nose's existential angst in relation to the Tauer line.

Marina reads this accord as a "sweetly-ambery, spicy-herbal, slightly leathery, woody SOMETHING", so no wonder she wanted to come up with a snappier name for it(!); Josephine, meanwhile, detects cough syrup. For myself, I do get a medicinal aspect, also a fuzzy, almost wire wool consistency. It was particularly noticeable in Incense Rosé, Une Rose Chyprée and Lonestar Memories, though there was a lot else going on in that last one, from lighter fluid to bacon, "fuelling" its oddity.

I persisted in this view of Tauers - accepting that LADDM would forever be the one scent from this particular stable on which I could happily ride off into the sunset - until I began to hear good things about the new release, Carillon pour un Ange. I heard it had ylang-ylang and lily of the valley, two favourite notes of mine, though the latter can be tricky and descend into soapy toiletry territory if you are not careful. I also heard that this scent wasn't like other Tauers in terms of the whole medicinal Brillo pad vibe. And though my hasty sniff of a tester nozzle in (the) Scent Bar wasn't too promising, I am three skin trials in now and enjoying the fragrance very much indeed.

For starters, Carillon pour un Ange has an unexpected luminosity for a Tauer - a radiant, almost irradiated quality. Bury it 200 foot underground and its bright heart would still beat, and its bells peal. It has the same intense and bright quality as Ajne Printemps or SIP Magazine Street or DelRae Début, which may partly be to do with the natural ingredients used, for it is mostly in scents with a high proportion of natural materials that I have experienced this "High Definition" phenomenon. The heady hint of lilac, the sensual oomph of jasmine and the tangy clang of ylang-ylang(!) help magnify this impression, aided and abetted by some miscellaneous greenery - none of it bitter like galbanum to my nose - but rather a bright, sherberty linden greenness (which Printemps and Début share, come to think of it, while the DelRae also has ylang-ylang).

Now, having said that I don't detect Tauerade, with its telltale wire woolliness, I DO detect metal all the same, at least in the opening. This may well be intentional, given that the name of the scent refers to a "stationary set of chromatically tuned bells in a tower, usually played from a keyboard" OR "a composition written or arranged for these bells". My first impression of Carillon pour un Ange (or CpuA for short - not to be confused with anything from the Periodic Table of Elements). was of a glade of lilies glimpsed through a wire fence.

Has anyone ever made a peephole theatre out of a shoe box? And if so, do you remember that deep sense of perspective due to the arrangement of different fixtures and fittings at staggered intervals along the box's length? Well, that is how I could best describe the sense of olfactory perspective I get with the accords in CpuA.

The metallic quality hangs around for a while in the foreground, and grounds the scent nicely, stopping it from coming over all Diorissimo. Now don't get me wrong - there is a place for that more feminine, "capering-on-hilltops-in-flouncy-petticoats"-style of springtime scent, though not on my skin particularly. But with CpuA, there's an edge, a metal-strip-in-a banknote bite to it. I may conceivably be chomping on the wire fence initially, as I survey the green dell beyond. Stranger things have been known. I am also reminded a little of the sensation of smelling Nahema, which was like sucking on powdered iron girders, but there the iron note was diffuse and powdery, whereas here the metal is whole and glinting - like sunbeams glancing off the bells in the tower. This is not a gilded lily, but a lily in an iron fist. The lily equivalent of "steel magnolias", if you will. : - )

Notes: lilac, rose, ylang-ylang, green lily of the valley accord, jasmine, leather, ambergris, moss and woods.

Now I see no mention of ferrous material in the note listing, so I am guessing that the metallic impression I get is coming from some combination of moss, leather and woods. Either that, or I am imagining it completely, like the phantom ylang-ylang I detect in Ajne Calypso. And as time goes on, the metal bite disappears, and the radiant piquancy is muted slightly by a musky-woody-leathery trail. It is as though the sun were veiled by a wisp of cloud, behind which it continues to burn brightly.

So there is a threefold learning from this latest scent trial:

1. I like anything Bloody Frida sends me
2. There are more Tauers out there to put a spring in my step and make my heart leap...
3. I like my lilies to be not so much giddy and girly as galvanised.

Yes, Andy Tauer has really "rung the changes" with this one...and I am very happy to have found it.




Photo of Easter card with angel from flickriver, photo of hotel in Marrakesh from concierge.com, photo of Carillon pour un Ange from ry7.ru, photo of brooch from collectibles-articles.com, photo of theatre in a box from papergoods.com, photo of angel from fast-autos-net, photo of galvanising process from bellespics.eu.

The Bonkers Road Trip - Part Three: Solo Sniffathon in Zürich

So there I was by the end of week two, holed up in a hotel in Wildegg, its foyer steeped in the ambient testosterone of the Serbian U-17 football team. The players may have been young, but they were very tall for their age. And every time I came downstairs, another one would be demanding gluten-free breakfast cereal from the receptionist in an imperious mixture of English and Italian.

Time to break out, I thought, so on Saturday morning I took the train to Zürich, which cost over £20, but it was less stressful than driving (I surely needed one day a week off!), and I managed to persuade myself that the parking would have cost as much.

Zürich has numerous associations for me: hotels on the Limmatquai with geranium-filled window boxes, woozy cheese fondue, banking secrecy, my home and contents insurer - and of course lately the city has become the European capital of voluntary euthanasia.

My first impressions on this occasion were of the North Face of the Eigeresque prices (£1.50 to use a public toilet, £1.50 for a picture postcard, £7.50 for 30 mins' Internet time!) I could tell early on that this was going to be a window shopping kind of a day and resolved to sniff freely, but resist all temptation to purchase anything more than essentials.

My first stop was a branch of Import Parfümerie in the Bahnhofstrasse. A native Swiss perfumista might not give this discount chain a second glance, but for me everything was new and different and interesting. Nothing remotely approaching a bargain, mind you, even in the promotional bins, and after testing a fairly forgettable Issey Miyake (Fleurs de Bois), I headed on to Manor, a mid-market department store, and Marionnaud, the (French?) specialist beauty chain run on similar lines to Douglas.

In Marionnaud I sniffed the new Prada Infusion de Tubéreuse. It really didn't strike me as being much like tuberose at all, but at least it didn't mug me and leave me for dead like its disappointing stablemate, Infusion de Fleurs d'Oranger. I later read Robin of NST's review of this scent, which she dubs "Infusion de Fleur Nonspécifique", which amused me no end - and frankly I couldn't agree more.

Next up was Hermes, where a friendly SA let me have a sample of Voyage d'Hermes - the only sample I scored all day, haha! Sadly it was rather sharp and overly limey - the J-C Ellena equivalent of a "Friday afternoon car", as they say in the motor industry.

I popped into Chanel, and tried to blag a mini of Beige, but no samples were forthcoming. Indeed they didn't even have one of their distinctive square blotters saying "Beige" on it, and I was blowed if I was going to walk out with Beige sprayed on a piece of card saying Coromandel, when I know perfectly well what Beige smells like anyway - I was just on the scrounge.

I also made a detour to the Moroccan-themed book shop - Le Maroc - in the Spiegelgasse, which inspired Andy Tauer to create Le Maroc pour Elle. It was a veritable Aladdin's Cave of books and sumptuous greetings cards featuring arty photos of Marrakesh and the surrounding area. Sadly, they started at 5 SFRS! Just inside the doorway was a homely display of Andy Tauer's scent range - I say "homely", because the tester bottles were tied loosely to the table they stood on with garden twine. Extrapolating from the greetings cards, I didn't even bother asking how much they were, much as I aspire to own L'Air du Désert Marocain some day.

Back in the Bahnhofstrasse, I spent quite a while in a very good branch of Douglas - very good because it had an extensive range of Micallefs, which I had only ever previously come across in an independent perfumery. I sniffed my way through quite a few:

Printemps, Ete, Automne, Black Sea, White Sea and Royal Musk

Printemps and Ete were surprisingly designer-ish to my nose, Automne was spicy but not pleasant, Black Sea was weird in that "push the envelope-loft dwelling-perfumisto" kind of way, White Sea was like a cross between a nice CDG such as White or 3 and one of the dodgier Platinum Life Threads - I am thinking Silver might be the one I mean. Royal Musk smelt of musk and was not the least bit objectionable.

The highlight of the day was my visit to Osswald's, one of the most high end independent perfumeries in Europe, at a guess. On a par with Hyazinth, or slightly better, owing to its Guerlain corner. It was a highlight, but strangely also a low point, for I felt so poor, both in relation to the prices and the well heeled clientele happily shelling out 180 SFRs and up at a rate of several every five minutes. Now I was wearing my good work trousers, a designer padded jacket and Ecco boots (from an outlet store and T K Maxx respectively, but no matter!), and yet I still managed to feel scuzzy and tramp-like, in a way I hadn't at Hyazinth. Maybe it was having the company of three stalwart perfumistas on that occasion that made the difference. It was certainly nothing the Osswald SAs said to me. They more or less left me to my own devices after one or two initial inquiries. I don't know what didn't click exactly, but I didn't feel at all comfortable, and tested less that I would have liked - though still managed to cross off quite a few things from my "to sniff" list:

L'Eau de Serge Lutens (unremarkable, inoffensive cologne)
Guerlain Les Secrets de Sophie (bit too ylangy-musky - almost trashy, which really took me aback)
Guerlain La Petite Robe Noire (elegant, dry, can't remember much else about it)
Guerlain Tonka Imperiale (overly rich vanilla - to retry!)
L'Artisan Havana Vanille (overly rich tobacco vanilla - to retry!)
Miller & Bertaux Shanti Shanti (too rosey, too much patchouli)
Humiecki & Graef Askew (good masculine, bit sharp?)
Humiecki & Graef Geste (unisex and beautiful in a way I am at a loss to describe)
Van Cleef & Arpels Lys Carmin (very pretty lily with added welly)
Van Cleef & Arpels Cologne Noire (pleasant cologne - not groundbreaking, but nice)
Van Cleef & Arpels Orchidee Vanille (sickly sweet mess on me)
Van Cleef & Arpels Gardenia Petale (too sweetly indolic)

Next stop was the department store, Globus, where I lingered for a good while - I would rank it above Manor in its market positioning - the Neiman Marcus to Manor's Macy's perhaps. Or Selfridges to Manor's Debenhams/John Lewis (for British readers).

In Globus I had a Vol de Nuit edt epiphany - it was soft and powdery, comforting like a mole's fur, but with a slight frisson of static electricity.

I also retried Ninfeo Mio (just as sharp off-fan!), Daim Blond (not as sweaty loafer as I recall, but not especially good on me), Tom Ford Grey Vetiver (why did I do that? I am not a vetiver fan particularly, though if you are, that is a pleasant example of the genre). I sniffed Michael Kors on paper at a distance of several feet from my body, and tried Bond No 9 New Haarlem aka "My Gingerbread Hell" rather too close to it. I also sampled Paris by Balenciaga on skin and found it exactly as expected in terms of scent - low key violets and greenery - but wasn't expecting it to be so powdery. It could have taken a "leaf" out of Patou Vacances' book and been a bit fresher for my money...

After Globus I was wandering pretty aimlessly by this stage and quite by chance stumbled across a department store whose name I cannot even remember, though the logo had a black background and there may have been a "j" in the name. Jelmoli? Jellyroll? More important than what it was called, it stocked the Tom Ford Musk range!!! I eagerly sniffed them all, and was predictably disappointed by Pure Musk, Urban Musk and Jasmine Musk, and re-bonded with White Suede on a prime skin site, my sample of which having long since been exhausted. "How much is the 50ml?" I inquired of the heavily made up SA, as optimistically as I could muster. "240 SFRS" (£160). Jeepers! That is £60 more than in the UK as far as I can recall. I asked if they happened to have a sample, so that I could evaluate White Suede at greater leisure. "Why would you need to do that?" came the blunt reply. "You have got it on your skin already." There was nothing for it but to make a sharp exit.

My energy levels were flagging by now, and my search for a cheap bar of chocolate led me to a branch of the Coop department store. I was feeling pretty jaded and disorientated, as evidenced by an impulsive trial of the new Avril Lavigne - that rocky "fruitchouli" number - Black Star? Not my demographic is putting it mildly. It was clearly time to go home.

So in summary, the three standout scents of the day were: Guerlain Vol de Nuit (bergamot, galbanum, petit grain, jasmine, jonquil, spices, woods, iris, vanilla, amber), Humiecki & Graef Geste (soft amber, musk, soft violet petals, soft fir resin) and Van Cleef & Arpels Lys Carmin (Lily, Pink Peppercorn, Ylang Ylang, Vanilla and Sandalwood). Which is about a 1 in 10 "love" hit rate. But given that they say you have to kiss 125 frogs before you meet your prince, that really wasn't a bad day's work...