Brief - and Wet - Encounter: meeting Undina and her vSO on a rainy day in London

The keen-eyed reader - if I still have any of those left given the sketchiness of my posting frequency - may have noted that I have yet to post Part Two of my report on the US tour with The Monochrome Set back in March. I am not sure why I didn't finish the travelogue closer to the time, but the band are going back next spring (I am giving that one a miss), and could always post Part Two as an anniversary tribute while they are actually on the road over there, possibly having similar experiences(!). We'll see... But meanwhile I have just returned from a rather fraught week with them in Germany, and as that is top of my mind at the moment I shall make it the subject of the next post. Lord knows it won't be the first time on Bonkers that I have cocked a snook at chronology. ;)

Now the last time I saw Undina and her husband was during that trip in March, and by a quirk of chance, I got to see them very briefly the day before I set off on this latest one. I can't be sure that we will always keep up such tidy synchronicity, but for the moment I associate band tours with meeting The Undinas.

The travel issues referenced in the title started at Stafford in fact, when I discovered a sleeping man in my forward facing, window, power socket-supplied seat. And next to him, his sleeping girlfriend with her head on his shoulder. I let it go, though friends have since suggested that he was probably faking it, and that I should at least have given him a hard stare or an admonishing poke.

Undina and her vSO were flying into Heathroom from the Ukraine at the same time as my train arrived in Euston, but it took a while before they finally got their bags and could make their way to their Airbnb in Bayswater. They were due to pick up the keys to it in a little supermarket nearby, so I staked the shop out from an outside table at the cafe next door, despite the inclement weather.

Eventually the by now familiar pair hove into view, suitcases in tow, and we hurried to their apartment as best we could in the pouring rain. The first time I met Undina and her husband was also at their accommodation - in Paris back in 2013. I got there first, and the landlady showed me up, and explained how all the various appliances worked, including the all-important washing machine. In a neat parallel, when we got into their flat this time round, the first thing Undina wanted to locate was a washing machine. We eventually found it, and a drier, concealed in cupboards in the living room to the right of the fold up bed (also concealed in a cupboard). The kitchen wasn't concealed in a cupboard, but was barely bigger than one, and we remarked that it was the smallest kitchen we had ever seen. Everything else about the apartment was perfectly proportioned, and there were tall windows overlooking the leafy terraced street through which one could comfortably pass an hour or six staring at the pouring rain.

While the pair were still getting their bearings in what was to be their home for the next week, I handed over a pint of milk, which I had bought round the corner, thinking it one of life's absolute necessities, right up there with the washing machine. Having recce'd their accommodation and its compact amenities we collapsed on the sofas, and the ritual exchange of perfumes between Undina and me commenced, preceded by the ritual exchange of small presents (I wasn't counting the milk). Undina gave me a cat-themed foldaway tote bag from Ulster Weavers, which - given where I am from - is a welcome example of carrying cats to Newcastle...I mean Belfast.

Meanwhile, in another neat parallel, I gave Undina a make up bag / pouch with a Voysey-esque design on it. I bought it from a museum shop in the UK, but couldn't resist a wry smile on spotting that it was in fact by a brand in New York.

Although it was only a short catch up, there was also time for Undina to show me several extremely sweet videos on her phone of Rusty having his tummy stroked. As they were away for a while this time, they had engaged a live-in pet sitter, whose daily footage of their blissed out cat was testament to the fact that he was being well cared for in their absence.

Now I am back from Germany, I am just getting into trying the samples Undina gave me. She has a very good sense of my taste - which could be summed up in a nutshell as furry ambers and powdery orientals for winter, and sultry florals or refreshing colognes for summer. For our meeting I had drained the last of a sample of Long Courrier, from Pierre Guillaume's The Cruise collection, which was kindly donated by Sabine (Iridescents) many moons ago.

I see that the name means 'long distance flight', which could certainly apply to the one Undina and her vSO had just come on.

"...a solar oriental built around a core of salty vanilla, the perfumer evokes faraway destinations, beaches on the other side of the world, lazy days gorged with sea spray and the delicious scent of suntan lotion…"

In hindsight, that was an ironic choice for a wet and blustery autumn day in London, which set the tone for the wet and wayward week that followed in Germany, of which more very shortly!

Editor's note: special thanks are due to John, the band's keyboard player, who kindly stowed Undina's samples in his instrument case for me, as I was travelling on hand luggage only, and they wouldn't have fitted in my already bulging(!) transparent plastic bag you take through security.

The Spitalfields Spritzers: sniffing and scoffing with a gaggle - and giggle! - of international perfumistas

It's all about the friendships...

Last weekend saw one of the biggest gatherings of perfume lovers from all over the world, drawn at least in part by this year's Art and Olfaction Awards in London. I wasn't invited to that event, but I gladly took the opportunity of this formidable foregathering of fumeheads to spend some time with a sizeable subset of those who had hit town . Now I wouldn't normally run two 'perfumista meet-up' posts back-to-back, but if I wait another week, there is a real risk that the day's events will become 'yesterday's smelling strip'.

Thus it was that I set my alarm for 6.15am last Saturday. This ungodly hour alone would have been enough to arouse Truffle's suspicions of an impending trip. Her fears were compounded by the sight of multiple little rucksacks being auditioned for the optimum combination of capacity and unobtrusiveness, and several jackets lying around the dining room - none of them objects I would normally interact with at that time of day. But Truffle could also see that her access to the garden remained unblocked, so decided to make a sharp exit to the great outdoors while the going was good.

I set off at 7.30am to walk to the station...you see a different side of a town when you are up and about so preternaturally early: cleaners wiping down office windows, staff opening up cafes, shop assistants walking to work. I also got a good view of the famous 'Pickup cats', who live in Stafford's only remaining electrical store. There are three altogether I believe, though given that they have been resident in the shop ever since I moved to Stafford over 30 years ago, there is every chance that the total number of cats - as well as the individual cats themselves - may have changed in that period!

At the station I hit my first technical hitch...the ticket machines were not working - neither the self-service ones nor the ones in the manned ticket office - so I was told (by Robert - always wise to clock people's name badges for added verisimilitude!) to get on the train with my paper confirmation of an online purchase and explain to the guard what had happened. Everyone who got on at Stafford would at least be telling a consistent story. ;)

The next apparent hitch in my journey - albeit not technically a technical one - was the fact that from Atherstone onwards I was hemmed in on all sides by six young mothers from Birmingham. Or at least five, because Whitney didn't look particularly motherly to my untrained eye. For two and a half hours I listened to them all talking about social media, their children's behaviour, other children's behaviour towards them (some of it involving sticks), their childrens' ailments and accidents, their pregnancies with their children, their husbands and partners, their parents' taste in music / dancing styles(!), their lust for a particular pair of shoes, make up bargains, the selection of T-shirts in Peacocks (with and without glitter), their jobs in various shops, and much more besides. The roll call of children whose names I caught were: Darcy and Poppy, Connor and Cody, and Willow and Brandon. I thought they were really going to bother me, talking so animatedly the whole way there, but I ended up being completely engrossed - I think I must be genuinely curious about other people, or should that be merely nosy? ;) At one point we all burst out laughing, when the woman opposite me (Emily, mother of Connor and Cody), inquired: 'What's the word for school?' She meant 'Academy', but everyone (me included!) simultaneously blurted out: 'School!'

Source: Birmingham Mail

Speaking of children, at every station there was the same announcement: "Please step onto the platform first before taking the pushchair off backwards." I must have heard it half a dozen times, and wondered how much practical benefit results from the advice in terms of parents correctly alighting from trains with their buggies, versus all the other passengers being irritated by its constant repetition. None of my mothers had their children with them, for example - why, that was the whole point of their trip to London - to have a nice lunch and some drinks, take in a show, and be unencumbered by kids for a day.

The next (actual!) technical hitch was the train being delayed due to something that was euphemistically described as 'an obstruction' and 'an issue' - in a tunnel just beyond Rugby. Obviously, everyone in our carriage immediately started thinking the issue and obstruction might in fact be a 'person'. We had to go via Northampton, but didn't stop there thankfully, and ended up with half an hour's delay, such that I was only ten minutes late for the brunch.

Are you ever going to get to this perfumista meet-up, or what??!!

Source: Tripadvisor

Coming, coming! Yes, so as you can imagine, I was pretty socialised out when I finally got to Euston, three hours after I set off, and with the whole day still ahead of me(!). The group of eight of us was truly cosmopolitan: three people from Austria, only one of whom was Austrian born and bred (Val's daughter, Hannah), while Val is from everywhere as we know, and Lady Jane Grey is from Hungary/Slovakia, but lives in Vienna (with her French husband, to add a further international twist). Then there was that fumehead fulcrum of Facebook, the spectacularly globe-trotting Margo (who is from Poland), Lucy of Indieperfumes, who lives in New York, Megan - from Sainte Maxime (there's a clue in her blog name!) - and who is in fact a Kiwi, hehe - and Tara from London! (Her report on the day's events may be found here.)

The brunch when it came was very good - I would cheerfully have eaten pretty much anything anyone else had ordered, but opted for a vegetable burrito, on the basis that it was the most 'labour-intensive' dish on the menu, which I would never attempt to replicate at home.

'Al fresco' diners

I did have an 'issue' with my tea, mind. It tasted of onion, improbable as that may sound. Realistically it might just have been that limescale-y taste you get with water from the bottom of a kettle, but onion was the first thing that sprang to mind. I passed my mug round the assembled company, and of the three people who tried it, one thought it tasted funny in a non-specific way, one thought it was fine (admittedly a coffee drinker ;) ), and one agreed with me on the onion. So a slight majority found in my favour, which was enough to embolden me to complain about the tea and elicit a replacement. The next mug proved to be an altogether different kettle of fish (though happily not tasting of it!).

It was predictably great - and slightly surreal - to be there. I had met everybody before except Megan and Margo (I clearly need to work on my 'M's). People had strewn the table with samples of every stripe. To be perfectly honest, I was only interested in the new Hermessence samples, of which Val had a full set. She kindly gave me sample vials of Cèdre Sambac and Myrrhe Églantine (with its gratuitous accent on the capital 'E', which, contrary to my usual contrariness, I have faithfully reproduced, as I like it so much!). I have been wearing both on rotation ever since, indeed I just bought a travel spray of the latter on a Facebook group - yup, me who swore blind she wouldn't ever buy perfume again! Though it is quite small, and will get used if the rate at which Val's sample is going down is anything to go by.

 After brunch, I peeled off with Lady Jane Grey, while the others went straight to Bloom in Covent Garden. At this plateau stage in my perfume j*****y I find myself more excited by a high quality craft market than the prospect of sniffing random unknown things in a shop. I did buy an upcycled silk pencil case from a lovely Japanese lady, and thoroughly enjoyed catching up on LJG's news and generally having a mosey round the market. The craft stalls seemed to have shrunk though, while the food stalls have mushroomed exponentially since I was there last. And the whole enterprise has become way more commercial and slick. But the craft side of things still had the wow factor for me, and offered much richer present pickings than anything I could have found at home.

I was given a scarf from here - the red one, bottom left! 

After about an hour, we joined the rest of our party at Bloom, where they were still going strong! I only popped my head inside, as I find the ever-changing system of bottle organisation quite impenetrable, and the shop also a little on the dark side for my liking. But mostly I need a friend to quite literally press a clutch of samples into my palm and say: 'You are soooo gonna love these, V', before I can be seduced into trying something new. And Val is very good at doing just that.

While in the alley, Val presented me with another little friendship bracelet, to add to the one she gave me in Augsburg the last time we met. You see, Val, Tara and I have a bit of a three way conversation group (aka 'coven' / 'triumvirate') going on on Messenger, and V figured it could be a kind of symbolic uniform for us - you know, like boy scout neckerchiefs in the same colour. Only we got to choose different colours, hehe. I happened to have first pick, and went for one in a sort of bluey grey, while Tara chose peach and Val got the remaining blue one by default. But the bracelets are otherwise identical, with tiny copper pieces all the way along the cord.

Source: Wikipedia

After Bloom, we went en masse to a branch of The Forbidden Planet, which Wikipedia describes as 'the world's largest and best-known science fiction, fantasy and cult entertainment retailer'. Val specifically wanted to go there to buy a poster for her gym trainer back in Austria, and quickly found one he would like of Batman. The shop was crammed with merchandise of every kind to do with sci-fi and fantasy films, comics and books etc. I gazed in awe at the cabinets full of figurines of monsters and robots and dinosaurs and Manga women fighters with preposterous physiques and I don't know what else, and also marvelled at the fact that there was absolutely nothing I would wish to buy in here, however long I spent combing the fixtures. While standing in the store, somewhere between scarily be-logo'ed T-shirts and tin tardises, I had an incongruous conversation with Lucy about our respective skincare regimes, in which she sang the praises of The Ordinary. Looking at her completely unlined complexion, I couldn't help but agree.

Next up, we made our way back to Covent Garden, where there was a half-hearted and abortive attempt to buy ice creams (the queues!!). Instead, we ended up fleetingly refuelling in Starbucks with an assortment of beverages before heading off to our next destinations - in my case the station, while the others were going to change and rest up before the awards ceremony with its intriguing dress code of 'bohemian cocktail', which I for one would much rather drink than wear.

I am pleased to report that there were no further train related incidents on the way home. I had had quite enough fun and excitement for one day!

Fairy bread and Cosmopolitans: An (Ubar-fabulous) evening with Portia Turbo at Perfume Lovers London (28.1.16)

This Thursday marked the eighth anniversary of my falling down the rabbit hole, ironically by idly googling a few perfumes a friend wore that I didn't like, and observing that they had a number of notes in common. One google led to another...eventually to fragrance wheels and pyramids and samples, from where it was a short bunny hop to full blown mania, an international network of perfumista friends, and a collection of 70 bottles and counting. Hopefully counting down, but last week's eBay coup isn't exactly heading in the right direction. Anyway, it seems fitting that I marked the occasion by popping down to London to attend the much awaited Perfume Lovers London meet up, featuring flamboyant Aussie drag queen, Portia Turbo of Australian Perfume Junkies. She has unfortunately had to 'go down a -Gear' following a nonsensical Facebook ruling on using real names, but Portia Turbo is still a pretty wicked name.

The obligatory outfit crisis

As you may recall, I invariably have an outfit crisis before any kind of important event, and this PLL meet up was no exception. In the end I gave up on reconciling my twin aims of smartness and warmth, and went for smartness. However, this was undermined somewhat by the stomach I had developed in the past week after consuming an entire bucket of Maltesers, which was unfortunately showcased by my aptly named 'dinner trousers'. Or 'after dinner choc binge trousers' to give them their full name. I only noticed this problem protuberance when I saw the photos of me from the night, and in hindsight would have been better off with something a bit more floaty and forgiving.

Me and Portia - lost a tum and gained Angela Merkel!

Forgotten things

And it is also traditional for me to forget something on such occasions: this time it was my watch, an umbrella, money, and one of the five coupons which collectively comprised my train ticket - I must have failed to scoop it up from the vending machine. As luck would have it, the next customer retrieved the coupon, handed it to a member of staff, who gave it to the conductor of the train I was on, who proceeded to walk through all the carriages looking for its owner, which could be ascertained by marrying up the serial numbers with my other coupons. What a fine example of proactive customer service that I didn't even know I needed! Or not until I attempted to travel home and found my ticket was invalid without that missing coupon...

The welcome committee

I was met at Euston (the novelty! the Brief Encountery-ness of it all!) by Val the Cookie Queen of APJ and Rachael Potts, both examples of that remarkable Venn diagram intersection of fumehead and fellow Monochrome Set fans. Rachael - whom I was meeting for the first time - immediately endeared herself to me by saying that I had a 'grown up voice' and was 'enigmatic'. (This may have meant in practice that I was unable to give any advance platform information, or even let her know where my train was coming from.) The three of us quickly hooked up with Tara of A Bottled Rose, Val's husband Chris, Val's travelling therapist, Dr Fox, and Lady Jane Grey, who had just flown in from a business meeting near Geneva! Some of us went to grab an impromptu bite near the venue, before joining the rest of our (predominantly German speaking ;) ) party at the venue. This was accessed by a very steep flight of stairs, which you would not wish to negotiate in either direction if you were a few Cosmopolitans to the wind.

Val, looking lively in leopardskin

Quirky and top notch scram

Yes, before moving on to an account of the event proper, the refreshments deserve a word of special commendation. I don't recall the full spread, but I did clock unwrapped Penguins, the Aussie delicacy known as Fairy Bread (dainty triangles of bread and butter sprinkled with hundreds and thousands - or 'sprinkles' for any US readers who don't mind a spot of repetition), some kind of twizzly extruded snacks and the biggest cashew nuts I have ever seen. If I hadn't just eaten a sizzling bowl of bibimbap I would have made light work of those, I can tell you. And even though the jug of ready mixed Cosmopolitans had been drunk by the time I investigated the options, I was impressed by the fact that this 'fun, fruity cocktail', beloved of the characters in Sex and The City had been on offer. It set the tone for Portia's fun, fruity talk no less!

We didn't have the teal variety! Source: Wikipedia

Portia's outfit - worth the ticket price in itself

I am not sure there is such an expression as 'a destination outfit' as there is a 'destination wedding' - you know, where the bride and groom fly to the Caribbean and combine the ceremony and honeymoon under one petal-strewn poolside pergola - but I would pay good money just to go and see Portia in all her glamorous finery. The coruscating talk was a bonus. So, starting at the bottom, Portia was shod in clear perspex peep-toe shoes with tottering 'f*** me' heels, to the terrifying vertiginousness of which her stretchy ankle bandage may have been testament. Next came a pair of very pale flesh coloured tights on her shapely legs, topped by a baby doll nightie in some suitably - or unsuitably depending on your stance on such things - diaphanous material, which made an interesting counterpoint with Portia's newly grown hipster beard. Well, new since I saw her last, which is a while ago (see outfit crisis link above!). And then came the crowning glory - Portia's headpiece, which I can best describe as a sparkly golden whelk. It was truly magnificent and looked quite heavy, but she is a real trouper, I sense, and has doubtless been weighed down by even more elaborate headgear in her time.

Scent of a (clatter of remarkable) women from down the ages

So finally, on to the event itself, which kicked off about 7.15pm 'We are starting a bit late', quipped Portia, 'because some of you can't afford watches!' (Can't afford - or can't remember to bring them, I thought to myself.) The session was relaxed, interactive, completely hilarious and occasionally blue or sweary in places. A winning combination of ingredients in my book.

Kirk, Val, Chris and Pia

Now I know that Tara will be reporting on the night for APJ itself, and she is noted for being as meticulous as a court reporter in her note taking. Consequently, I shall not attempt to present a full account of Portia's talk, for my own scribbly jottings would fall woefully short. Instead, I will endeavour to give a flavour of the content, which centred around a list of twelve formidable female figures from history - mostly, but not all benign, it should be said - whom Portia had matched with a scent which she felt summed up their character / persona. Blotters of the fragrances in question were distributed amongst us so we could all experience Portia's suggestion. The audience meanwhile had been randomly assigned fabric strips with the names of one of the women featured, and were asked to think what we would associate that person with ourselves. Googling was permitted, should anyone be a bit nonplussed by the name they had been allocated!

So without further preamble - though you knew there would have to be some, this being Bonkers ;) - here is a quick romp through a selection of the featured women from history, their assigned scents, and any comments from the audience. I should point out that the titbits I have homed in on in the 'Famous for' category by no means give an exhaustive picture of that individual's lifetime achievements, hehe.

CLEOPATRA

Famous for: Marrying her brother and creating the Syrian army - 'which was just as f***ed then as it is now'. Cleopatra apparently had a good body, but a 'face like a foot'. She painted her skin with lead to make her face whiter, and drank a pearl dissolved in vinegar in a bet with Mark Antony. (My notes were a bit shaky at this point, but Googling is permitted, as I say.)

Ubar by Amouage

NB (I chose this as my sample to take home at the end of the night, because I know it is a particular favourite of Undina's, and thought that after my recent rapprochement with Salome, I was ready to give this 'big hitter' perfume another go).

Audience suggestions: White Diamonds, Poison, Onda Extrait (no prizes for guessing who that was!), and good old plain ass's milk. Or even asses' milk, as it would take a couple to fill a bath.

Source: Pinterest

SAINT JOAN OF ARC

Famous for: Leading the French to victory against England in the Hundred Years' War and being burnt at the stake. ;(

Celtic Fire by Union(!)

Audience suggestions: I didn't say so, but Brulure de Rose flitted into my mind - and promptly out again! I think it was in connection with poor Joan that Lila came up with Jovoy Paris's La Liturgie des Heures, because of its being an incense scent. There was much ribald discussion of the existence of the Marmite accord that is meant to be in Celtic Fire, but Grant Osborne has seen it in the vial, so that settled the matter.

Source: Wikipedia

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE

Famous for: Being a nurse in the Crimean War and having the idea of sanitising hospital wards and washing patients' clothes.

Sharp by Andrea  Maack

NB (My review of Sharp may be found here. I liked it best out of Andrea Maack's range, not least because it had no discernible metal note, though arguably that would not have been out of place in a scent associated with field hospitals.) Sharp reminded Portia of SL Laine de Fer, and some loft? insulation material the name of which I didn't catch, but which sounded humorous.

Audience suggestions: Dettol(!), Estee Lauder White Linen, and something else I have failed to write down.

Source: Roullier White

TZ'U HSI

Famous for: Being the Chinese Emperor's concubine, Dowager Empress and Regent of China, and having unfeasibly long nails, which knock the entire cast of TOWIE's talons into a cocked hat. Tz'u Hsi also oversaw the establishment of schools, the reorganisation of the army - and the suppression of opium cultivation.

YSL Opium (vintage) - haha!

Audience suggestions/comments: Rachael mentioned that she once got off her head sniffing Opium in the 1970s during a bout of flu. 'While we were all snorting poppers!' joked Portia. Given the age Portia would have been in the '70s it is sincerely to be hoped not. ;)

KATHARINE HEPBURN (note spelling - I speak as a 'not quite fellow' Kathryn)

Famous for: A stellar Hollywood career spanning 60 years, and legendary cheekbones. Portia said: 'I ate my way out of that look, but I like to think I have some of her poise'. Based on how well Portia was managing in those killer heels, despite a dodgy ankle, I would say a resounding yes to that.

JHAG Gentlewoman

Portia joked: 'A lot of perfumistas need to be challenged every time they breathe in, but I just need to smell good!' I liked this soapy yet crisp orange-y cologne myself and would say 'Amen' to that sentiment!

Audience suggestions: FM Le Parfum de Therese (ie something a bit more spiky and angular, I infer - more African Queen, if you will), Jicky, Dior Eau Sauvage ('Ooh yes,' exclaimed Portia, 'she would have bathed in the s***!'), Miss Dior and Chanel No 5.

Source: triviatribute.com

And finally, I would like to include this one, because of my personal connection to the scent Portia chose for her...

ELIZABETH TAYLOR

Famous for: Her magnetic violet eyes, continually marrying and unmarrying Richard Burton, and being in a ton of iconic films, including Cleopatra (see above!). Her face is considerably more beautiful than a foot, it must be said.

Rochas Byzance

NB This was the perfume I associate with my mother because of her not wearing it, and which gave rise to this elegaic post about her, which some readers may remember, and which is the piece of writing anywhere on Bonkers which means the most to me. I describe Byzance in my review as 'A retro soapfest clouded in mystery'.

Audience suggestions: Tara came up with FM Lipstick Rose, which spookily enough was the exact same scent that popped into my mind, on account of its cosmetic boudoir vibe and violet connection!

Portia having a swishy skirt moment.

So yes, these are only half the people featured. I was assigned Oprah Winfrey, for example, and 'channelled' Michael Kors as my suggestion, which is weird as I am not sure I have even smelt it - that's why I say 'channelled', because it came to me just like that! Portia, meanwhile, picked YSL M7 for her. And higher up the post I may of course be seen posing with Angela Merkel, who was teamed with a Byredo scent. Oh, and I would just like to mention that I had heard of the oceanographer and explorer Sylvia Earle, but only because there was a programme on her on Radio 4 the other week.

Portia, Val, Tara and Sabine (of Iridescents)

Then after the talk there was the usual high octane milling around and having lightning conversations with fellow fumeheads - much like speed dating, indeed, but without the dating part.

Rachael and me

This was a good opportunity to hand over a pair of wrist warmers I had knitted as a commission for Val, and there was also the usual exchanging of little goody bags. Oh, and of course I had to take away one of Val's brownies. Eating it on the train home was (not for the first time, indeed) a way of proving to myself that that night of unalloyed fabulousness, razzle-dazzle, and all round not-quite-family entertainment really happened. Yep, Portia, you are still a caution and a hoot and a half, and long may you continue to be so!

Brownie plus coupons reunited!