How a pair of old curtains and three lengths of downpipe led (very circuitously) to Shangri La (by Hiram Green)

Shangri La by Hiriam(!) Green ;)

My friends on Facebook will recall that my Elderly Friend has a time-honoured tradition of pressing a random selection of gifts on me just as I am about to leave. The other day she added a new twist to this custom, by giving me a large slice of M & S Apricot Roll (highly recommended if you do not eschew sugar and/or ultra processed cake) and a pair of old curtains for me *to dispose of*. She recently gave up driving, so is more constrained in terms of carrying things into town to a charity shop, for example. I mentioned that there was a textile recycling container at the tip, and that I would take the curtains there, together with a motley collection of other items earmarked for recycling, from three bits of sawn off downpipe to an outsized cardboard box, a couple of beaten up plastic drawers that used to hold cassettes, a black bin bag full of said cassettes(!), a mouldy old blanket which proved to be the "canary in the boot" that signalled a leak beneath the spare tyre, and some broken fairy lights.

Having got rid of everything in its appropriate receptacle, I returned to my car, noticing as I did so that someone had shoved a load of books in the paper bank reserved for things like old telephone directories, junk mail and magazines. I had a little rootle around and rescued four of the misplaced titles, including a hardback by Compton Mackenzie called The Red Tapeworm with an interesting dustjacket - a third edition from 1955! (Which looks like it might even be worth something...or more than the nothing I paid for it, certainly.) Hmm, I see it is a satire on the economic measures imposed by the UK Government in wartime, so it might be hauntingly topical as well.

Now next door to the tip is a large charity warehouse, so I usually reward myself for my green compliance with a rummage in there, and this visit did not disappoint. I came away with two framed prints (one antique!), a monochrome teapot with a nod to Mary Quant, a tea caddy, a mug, and a book by Julian Barnes - a snip at £15 for the lot. Back home, I made tea with my new accoutrements and knuckled down to the task of integrating this latest clutch of books. 

Sancho and the Duchess (engraving by R Staines)

This proved to be no easy feat, as my sitting room is already brimming with tottering tsundokus - like my father before me, I do suffer from a touch of bibliomania - and I spent an hour or so emptying out knick-knacks from shelves in a bid to free up more space for the even greater surplus. Having integrated the vast majority of spare books, I only had a few small format ones left, and set about looking for any kind of receptacle or nook where I could stash these. My eye lit upon several decorative boxes on top of a bureau, the largest of which I thought might serve my purpose. I fetched all three down and opened them: the smallest was home to half dozen highlighter and marker pens (so that is where they went!), while the other two contained perfume samples.

The juice has done a runner!

What was odd was that ALL the samples in one box had evaporated! I don't know if they had had very little perfume left in them anyway, or whether the seal of the box was defective, or what had occurred, but they were empty. Forgive me for the trivial comparison, but to chance upon so many expired samples in one place had a whiff of the Jonestown Massacre about it, as though the vials had collectively agreed to lie down and give up the ghost at the same time. And I must confess that at this relatively jaded stage in my perfume hobby my first thought was relief... Here were twenty or so scents with which I no longer had to engage...and yes, I know that is ungrateful of me. I did duly sniff all the vials, mind, to remind myself of how they smelt - there is invariably a trace of fragrance left around the nozzle - but I think I will chuck them presently.

"I was here first, you know"

The other box contained an eclectic mix of things that I had meant to review one day - and may still do perhaps - along with designer rejects, and samples of such extreme obscurity that I have absolutely no idea how I came by them, or who the brands even are - and if they still exist. A couple of samples caught my eye though...Slowdive and Shangri La by Hiram Green, the innovative Dutch perfumer noted for his hyper-realistic vegan range. I parked Slow Dive for now to retry at a later date, and immediately dabbed a bit of Shangri La on my wrists, intrigued by the name, which struck me as an ironic counterpoint to the state of the world at the moment.

Top notes: citrus notes

Heart notes: peach, jasmine, rose, iris, spices

Base notes: vetiver, oakmoss

Well, how beautiful is this? Shangri La is classed as a chypre, and I was initially reminded of Mary Greenwell Plum and 4160 Tuesdays Goddess of Love & Perfume: after a juicy citrus opening blast, Shangri La also showcases a luscious fruity floral bouquet including peach, with oakmoss in the base. The texture is unctuous and rich (Think Patou Joy if you are not familiar with the other two) without being cloying, though it might still be a bit full-on for some until it has settled down. A number of reviewers have compared Shangri La to Mitsouko, with caveats of course, given the latter's status as a towering  behemoth of the 20th century. Shangri-La is more cheerful, and less overtly retro, austere, and "dusty" to my nose. It is also twisty turny in its development: at times faintly spicy, or powdery (thanks to the iris?), with bright darts of peach and jasmine periodically peeping through. Whatever facet greeted my nose, it was just gorgeous, in a wistfully vintage way, and I don't say that lightly.

And so, speaking of things being twisty turny, this is the story of how a pair of old curtains and other detritus eventually led me to Shangri La...a tender ray of sunshine for these dark and ominous times.

Still no room for the last few books...

Halston Couture - "Bias Cut" Tape Cuts A Dash On A Decant

I thought I had said all I ever wanted to say on the subject of insulation tape and perfume decanting here: the etiquette surrounding its usage in swaps (vs other tape types), the significance of colour, the variety of application techniques - even the passing resemblance of black insulation tape to Bvlgari Black, the perfume - surely I had fathomed it all?

But then last week I received a sample and a couple of decants courtesy of Olfacta of OlfactaRama. I won them in a draw, which is most unusual for me. I never win lotteries or raffles as a rule, and don't suppose I would even if I bought a ticket. But this time I got lucky and here are my prizes: Halston Couture and Opium Fleur de Shanghai, plus a sample of Les Parfums de Rosine Rose d'Homme.

For anyone unfamiliar with the scent, Halston Couture was launched in 1988 and is a woody chypre, with notes as follows:

Top notes: bergamot and lemon
Middle notes: patchouli, jasmine and rose
Base notes: amber and oakmoss

I cannot top Olfacta's summary of this scent as: "a take-no-prisoners spicy, bitter green chypre". It couldn't be further from my thing to be honest - to give you an idea, I find even Estee Lauder Private Collection a bit severe...However, I was curious to try it, because a former BF gave me me some kind of Halston perfume in the 80s, though clearly not Couture, because we had already split up three years before its launch.

On opening the package I was struck by the little black beards of tape on each of the atomisers, protecting the nozzles from leaking. From beards I was suddenly reminded of those neckerchiefs that cowboys wear, often backwards (men after my own heart!)
Without further ado, I asked Mr Bonkers for his off the cuff thoughts on the tape triangles.

"Hitler!" he said, quick as a flash. I think he is referring to the late megolomaniac dictator's diagonal comb over. And that evening we were watching an episode of Britain's Next Top Model when we spotted this cat...!

...Swiftly followed by the similarly asymmetric hairstyle of one of the judges, Julien MacDonald. Who happens to be a couture designer. And one of the atomisers bearing this nifty tape arrangement contains Halston Couture. So the wheel of whimsical resemblances had come full circle. (Not before time, I hear you mutter...)




Photo of cowboy from sillyjokes.co.uk, photo of Julien MacDonald from fabsugar.co.uk, other photos my own.