A Bacchanalian Sniff-In With Freddie of Smellythoughts

Selfridges via geograph.org.uk

I have heard it said that many Londoners - notwithstanding the cornucopia of culture on their doorsteps - do not fully take advantage of what is going on in the capital.  By the same token, Birmingham, the second largest city in Britain, is a 30 minute train ride away from where I live, and I hardly ever go there either - whether to attend concerts, exhibitions, or just to cruise the temple to consumerism that is the newly revamped Bullring.  But last Saturday I propelled myself through my inertia and bought a ticket for a matinee performance of a film I had been dying to see (Good Vibrations), which was showing for two days only in the UK's oldest working cinema, the Electric.

Meanwhile, I contacted Freddie Albrighton of Smellythoughts - whom I managed to miss meeting at recent PLL events in London - and asked if he fancied hooking up afterwards for a sniffing session and/or a coffee.  Happily Freddie was well up for a blind date (as we do!), but because he works on a Saturday we agreed to meet straight after my film, just outside the train station.

The upstairs foyer at the Electric Cinema 

It was easy to spot Freddie at the bottom of the New Street ramp on account of his distinctive hoop earrings, and he led me without ado to a favourite watering hole, a cellar bar in Burlington Arcade called Bacchus.  It was like stepping into an Arthurian legend: there were vaulted stone arches, flaming torches in sconces and tapestry wall hangings.  The bar was divided into different levels, with cosy snugs at every turn - sadly all of them taken by early doors revellers.  So I loitered with intent in a spot where I could keep an eye on people's comings and goings while Freddie got the first round in.  I can report that despite the medieval ambience of Bacchus, the bar stocked a number of contemporary tipples such as Appletizer and Freddie's preferred brand of Antipodean pear cider, Rekorderlig - an apt choice for someone who recently spent a year in New Zealand.  Moments later Freddie returned with the drinks, and suddenly we spied a table just being vacated, on which we swooped with alacrity.

Bacchus Bar via grapevinebirmingham.com

The next two hours were a blur of enjoyable chitchat about our lives, our "perfume journeys" (if I may briefly annexe that hateful X-Factor term), our favourite styles of scents, our approach to blogging and thoughts on the latest developments in Perfume Land.  And it goes without saying that there was a Bacchanalian orgy of sniffing and sample exchanging.  By the end of the session we had covered ourselves in a veritable cacophony of scents all up our arms.  I do recall that Freddie had Damien Bash Lucifer #3 in the crook of his right elbow, while I had the cult scent Shiseido/SL Nombre Noir below the base of my right forefinger - but the rest is consigned to oblivion.

My sample haul from Freddie included three Vero Profumos (I get to try Mito again!), three samples from Magnetic Scent and two from O'Driu (lines that were completely under my radar), plus a complete set of JAR Parfums (which I smelt in Paris but would like to try again, even though at least three smelt of carnation. : - ) )  Freddie also gave me a vial of Miel de Bois - he is a self-styled "enfant terrible" after all, and it was every drop the evil honeyed thing of my traumatised memory - and one of actual perfumer's ambergris (1 year old 1% black ambergris tincture to be precise), which I was very excited to smell.

Source: nyu.edu

On the day, my preferred scent out of all the ones I tested has to be Nombre Noir, a dark aldehydic rose with osmanthus, though to my nose it read in a lighter register - a bit sherbety and springlike, with a vibe not unlike Guerlain Chamade or a powdery version of DelRae Debut.  Freddie explained how Luca Turin considers Nombre Noir to be "one of the five great perfumes in the world".  It is pretty special for sure and I am very glad to own a little bit of this (criminally discontinued) legend.

Then today Freddie has followed up his initial generosity with another pouch of perfumes in the post(!), including three from Aftelier - I am currently swooning over Secret Garden and completely revising my previous lariness around natural scents - Miriam(!), Tawaf from La Via del Profumo and a few other bits and bobs.  Special mention should also be made of the curious upside down test tube vials Freddie favours.  They certainly score highly on the snap-fitting front and I may seek out some of my own.

The JARS are in a cheeky Hermes box - ha!

A highlight of my meeting with Freddie has to be a discreet shufty at his tattoos, which are extensive but completely covered up by his clothes.  I have never been tempted to get a tattoo myself, but Freddie's were an impressive sight and there is clearly a lot of artistry involved.

Oh, and there was one more thing I brought up during our chat which amused Freddie - my diary entry from the very day he was born, a snowy winter's day over 20 years ago:

"Got up late c11am.  Ventured out to shops in blizzard conditions!  Bought impulse present for Mother.  Tea and scone in Soup Kitchen.  Power cut c5pm.  David pissed off and I spent the evening reading The Telegraph and New Woman by bicycle lamp, after finding a rather unsavoury pasty at Oasis."  

Notes: David was my lodger at the time, while Oasis is a chippy that has changed hands several times since.

An Estate Windfall - And Why Vintage Perfume Is So Much More Than Old

Source: Vintage Perfume Vault

A friend's husband lost his father recently.  I am of that age where people around me are being orphaned left and right, and many of us have not just organised funerals but cleared and sold our parents' houses.  Mine lived apart, hence the possibly surprising plural.  Tony's mother died some years ago, and his father carried on living in the marital home.   Now that he is gone, it fell to Tony to sort the place out, including his mother's effects, which his father had not touched since her death.   You can tell where this is going, can't you...?

Yes, the other day over dinner at their house, Tony whipped out a pink cloth bag containing a purse spray, plus two other tiny miniature perfumes, and announced: "Here you go - there are more where they came from, and I'll fetch the rest when I am up at the house next."  My mini-haul comprised about 4ml of Coty L'Aimant, Lucien Long Indiscret and Goya Pink Mimosa.   Well, the Goya is empty in fact, but still smells of something prettily floral.  Pink Mimosa came out in 1947, Indiscret in 1935.  My research suggests that the two minis are most likely from the 50s or 60s, but if anyone has a more exact idea I would be glad to hear it - maybe they aren't that old?  The Coty L'Aimant has a price tag of £2.25, which places it in the era of decimalisation at least ie post 1971!  It does additionally have one of those high pressure spray mechanisms that I associate with older bottles - when were they phased out, I wonder?

Shocking pink and a fierce squirter!

L'Aimant is still readily available in drugstores for very little money - you can pick up a boxed set and still have change from a tenner.  The vintage version smells classier than the current formulation - like Rive Gauche crossed with very expensive soap.  I am not really drawn to soapy perfumes, but it is a very elegant example of the genre.

The Lucien Lelong is on the face of it absolutely not my thing - one of those fierce spicy orientals - the only modern equivalent of which I can think of being EL Spellbound.  Here is Angela of NST's take on an Indiscret estate find of her own from the same era:

Civet and spice and all things (strangely) nice!

"My guess is the bottle I bought — flat, octagonal, with gold cap and rubber stopper — was from the 1950s. On skin it smelled spicy, woody, powdery, and floral and was reminiscent of Millot Crepe de Chine but with a definite clove note. Its floral heart was tight and seamlessly blended, giving the shape rather than the distinct fragrance of jasmine, ylang ylang, carnations, and other flowers I can’t suss out."

Donna of PST also reviews the vintage Indiscret:

"However, once it’s been on the skin for a while, it reveals itself to be the real thing, as the distinctive rich, spice-laced heart notes are still there, and once I got over the opening I loved it."

I have nothing to add to their descriptions really.  Indiscret reads rather severe and aloof to me (spiky, not fluffy!) - and the carnation and/or clove is too jarring for my taste, though it softens with time.  Yes, by the far drydown, it had taken on a creamy, almost dreamy aspect, with the florals still prickling with spice and mired in civet.  I should have hated it, but found myself oddly mesmerised.

More vestigial molasses than perfume

As for the Goya, the best I can say about the scent itself from the rim of the bottle is that it is an indistinct spring floral - however, I had a lot of fun with it otherwise.  I am not sure there is a word for the perfume bottle equivalent of potato printing.  If anyone can tell me what this black inky stuff is, I would be fascinated to know.

Is it a leopard?  Is it going to come off with pumice stone?

Now I can't pretend to say that sniffing these perfumes brings back memories of Dorothy, as Tony's mother was called, because it doesn't.  I never met her.  I did attend her funeral as it happens, but that was mainly in the capacity of chauffeur.  I do, however, like to imagine the 50s through furniture - I own a cabinet from that period which once belonged to the someone's granny in Bootle - I love to imagine where it has been and what it has "seen".

Must sort out those cables

In summary, I have never been especially interested in vintage scents, not least because so many seem to be of this austere oriental or chypre style, but I am not "agin" the category either - I very much sniff as I find.   I guess my newfound love of period furniture easily crosses over into an appreciation of old artefacts generally, including perfume.  Yes, my recent windfall has definitely piqued my curiosity in vintage scents,  and I await with interest to see what Tony comes back with from his next decluttering session at the family home...

A Bonkers Round Up Of Perfume Bottle Imagery - Real And Imagined!

Source: turkotek.com

Topic advisory - this is a frivolous and palate-cleansing post - the blog equivalent of what my father used to call a "frippery", namely a gewgaw or trinket that was as desirable as it was insubstantial, and on which he used to counsel me most strenuously not to spend my pocket money.  But of course I did, every week, and never lived to regret a single one of my horde of spangly purses and Itty Bitty erasers.   I would call them "rubbers", but I don't wish to cause an international semantic incident.

Now, Olfactoria has a gorgeous series of posts entitled "Finding Hidden Beauty", in which she compiles a montage of photos of aesthetic objects glimpsed on walks around her native Vienna.  Vienna is of course a rich hunting ground for such serendipitous sights - if you walk round Stafford, you are more likely to bump into our hideous telephone exchange building everywhere you turn, though a bit of ferreting will uncover some architectural gems from the medieval era and even earlier.

Stafford's telephone exchange - more a case of finding obvious ugliness!

So this post has some crossover with that altogether more elegant series of Birgit's, though it was finally triggered by the latest of Undina's postcards from her trips away, specifically by a comment made by Jordan River of The Fragrant Man about how he had spotted a heart shape on a hill in Undina's photo.

"I searched and searched the photo, every bush, every blade. When I looked up I saw the heart. Now I can’t miss it. A clever and brilliant composition."

You see, I have quietly been collecting images of perfume bottles spotted in unexpected contexts, and thought that I might now have a small quorum worth posting.  They comprise a mixture of unusual representations of actual perfume bottles AND objects that have nothing whatsoever to do with fragrance, but where I discerned a perfume bottle shape, much like Jordan with his hillside heart.

So, starting with the actual and moving through to the imaginary(!), here are the highlights of my collection to date.

These quirky watercolours of patriotic perfume bottles are by Bridget Davies, the artist behind my perfume-themed cushions, the topic of a previous post.

And here is a tattoo by Brooklyn-based John Mohawk, featured in the tattoo magazine "Things and Ink".  I think as tattoos go - and Freddie of Smellythoughts can confirm - this one demonstrates exceptional artistry.  I wouldn't want to spring for one myself, but it is pretty spectacular by any yardstick.

Source: Basenotes

My heart leapt when I spied these cute knitted perfume bottles on Basenotes a while back - I am not clear whether they are actual perfume bottles wearing knitted jacket facsimiles of their bottles, or whether the whole thing is knitted, maybe with some stuffing inside.

And ooh look, here are some crocheted ones by artist Kate Talbot, who came up with the idea as a clever way of illustrating cosy "cashmere wrap"-style scents for an article in The Stylist magazine:

So does anyone have any felt or woven flacons?

Speaking of erasers, there are even ones shaped like perfume bottles - admittedly in an assortment of rather garish colours, but the thought is there at least.

Source: Novelty Eraser's Ebay shop

Next up are a few pictures of imaginary perfume bottles, starting with my friend Lizzie's earring:

Lizzie's lobe, kindly snapped to order by her son Fabian

And finally, a series of "salt bag" rugs from Persia.  Apparently shepherds carry rock salt to feed to their sheep. There are certain times of year when shepherds need the sheep to drink and retain more water, which of course salt encourages them to do, much like pub owners putting bowls of peanuts on the bar.  For a full account of sheep migration patterns and the whys and wherefores of salted and unsalted flocks, there is a helpful explanation here on this persian carpet website.

Source: rugrabbit.com

This one below is shaped a bit like a Ferre, wouldn't you say?

Source: rugrabbit.com

And what about this one - do those horizontal lines not remind you vividly of the stripier end of the Paul Smith range?

Okay then, a somewhat faded Paul Smith with added mad hair...

Oh, and would you believe I still have a spangly purse - bought in the last 15 years no less, whatever that says about me.

This purse is dedicated to euro shrapnel ie coins of 20 cents and under

I would be very interested to hear of any other oddball perfume-themed artefacts or imaginary perfume bottles you may have spotted, so please feel free to email any pictures to me at flittersniffer at gmail dot com.  If I gather enough in, some day I will run another selection of "reader finds" plus anything else I come across in the meantime!

Photo of Stafford's telephone exchange from geograph.co.uk, photo of Ferre bottle from talkingperfume.com, photo of Paul Smith bottle from cheapperfume.co.uk

"My SEO Shame" And Why Bonkers Is (Quite Literally) A Traffic Stopper!

Topic advisory - this post may only interest fellow bloggers, bots and web techies of most stripes...

I get a fair bit of mail in my flittersniffer inbox - not, as you might think, so much in the way of reader emails - you know, enlisting my help to track down a discontinued perfume or something that might serve as a decent substitute.  There was the out-of-the-blue request from Kirsten that time to help her with her l'Artisan rebranding project, but that was a one-off.  Then I suppose I do receive a fair few press releases for upcoming perfume and beauty product launches, but the single main category of mail I get at the moment is from SEO companies offering to help "fix" my blog (for a fee, obviously).

Now I am aware of the sorts of measures I should be taking to optimise my Google page rank in the Interwebs and to attract readers to Bonkers: things like regularly updated - and popular - content, and engaging with the reader through polls and giveaways.  It is also advised to shoehorn as many key search words into the title of your post, and to make a point of repeating the name of the item you are blogging about - a perfume, typically - as often as is humanly possible in the body of your post without being so heavy-handed as to draw the reader's attention to the fact.  Oh, and not forgetting the addition of a liberal smattering of labels/tags, embedded links to your archived posts, and sharing galore on social media. 

Maybe I just need to give up wheat, like Gwyneth?

So, yes, I know this is what you are meant to do to to make your blog more successful, and I do definitely nod in the direction of some of it, however in the grand scheme of things I am only paying lip service at best.  This is partly due to inertia and laziness, and partly because some of the more artificial tactics - like repeating the name of the topic a lot or having titles that are totally on-message - don't sit well with the the "house style" of Bonkers, which leans to the whimsical and the random.  

But these SEO companies are not to know that - they are reaching out (how I hate that phrase!) to a blog they see as floundering, with the promise that they can sort out the half-cocked mess that my behind-the-scenes - and behind the curve! - content has become.

So I thought I would share with you some of the recent highlights from my mailbox!   I didn't understand a lot of them, but they were uniformly amusing.

First off, a gentle warning from a company in the US:

"In the present day scenario it’s very essential to take a proper care of your website and keep it updated with fresh and original contents. One single unwanted link might put your website in disaster situation."

This from a company in India:

"I would like to update you that your website is still not ranked on the top pages of Google SERPs for your popular keywords (Products). Your loss is your competitor’s gain i.e. the traffic which could have generated quality sales for you goes to your competitors as they rank well in the Search Engine Result Pages (SERPs) organically."

Sales?  SERPS?  Isn't that something to do with pensions?  The company goes on to explain:

"If you are getting rigid by paying a huge amount in PPC, then Organic listing by using white hat technique will be definitely a right choice for you. As the rate of conversion is more in organic listing as compared to PPC, eventually it will be an absolute gain for you." 
 
Rigid?  Stiff as a board, me!  Though that's more from not having done pilates for a year and a half.  And white hat technique?  I am reassured to hear it.  I was so interested in fact that I took a look at this company's website, where I learnt that they also specialise in Google Panda and Penguin Complaint SEO Services, which is good to know.  Pandas and penguins are endearing creatures and I like the thought of their complaints being promptly attended to.

And in case I am wavering...

"I know I am not the only company who is providing this service, but I can bet that the quality and genuine service you will get no other company won’t provide you."

I can bet too.

And finally this, from a saddlery factory in China.  Not about Search Engine Optimisation interestingly, but offering to satisfy all my saddlery needs, which are of course extensive and wholly unmet.

"Great to know you are working in field of saddlery.  This is Mr.Win working in Rayyee Saddlery Co., Ltd which is a professional horse grooming and cleaning products factory in china.We have most complete varieties as well as more than 10 years exporting history in this fields.  

We are very strong at all kinds of comb,curry comb,hoof pick,sweat scraper,horse brush,feed scoop,forks,boot jack as well as horse grooming kit and so on.

You can check my attachment." 

Does his attachment have a sweat scraper, I wonder?


Photo of Google from flickr.com, album cover from tumblr.com, cartoon of panda and penguin from siliconbeachtraining.co.uk, photo of sweat scraper from ipsadirect.ie

Lyn Harris La Fleur, La Rose & La Poudrée For Marks & Spencer - Part 2: Mini-Reviews

Lyn Harris looking satisfied with her handiwork, as well she might!

I thought I might write mini-reviews of these three new perfumes for M & S, partly because I am never very confident of my nose's ability to deconstruct the development of a fragrance, but also because I wrote 14,000 words for work since my last post!  Yes indeedy.  I can hardly credit it, but my brain definitely feels as though it has been through the wringer in the past week.  I am not totally "worded out", but let's just say that I find myself massively drawn to non-verbal communication of all kinds at the moment.  Oh, I just looked that up, and there are eight types, apparently - as many as that?  Here they are:

Facial expressions, gestures, body language and posture, eye gaze, appearance (includes choice of perfume! Or it could do, though that is not an example they give...), haptics (I know that from my studies on car dashboards - it's a fancy name for touch), proxemics (fancy name for personal space) and paralinguistics (fancy name for tone of voice.  No, strike that one, as it also involves words, and we are keeping those to a minimum, or trying to.)

"So get on with your mini-reviews then!", I hear you chorus.

LA FLEUR ("Truth or Look" aka "New Dare")

“A floral classic, white gardenia and Indian tuberose flowers set the tone with gentle woods, vanilla Bourbon and musk.”

Source: haircomesthebride.com(!)

When I first applied La Fleur on skin in store I had a banging headache and thought it was a bit loud and shrill, with that shampoo-y chemically vibe commonly found in gardenia-"containing" scents (well, excluding the really high end ones like Isabey).  Yes, Jo Malone Vintage Gardenia, I'm looking at you.   No wonder you were discontinued.  Then when I tried La Fleur at home, with all my faculties on form, the opening was more "bright and juicy", and still a little bit synthetic if I am honest, but the impression was not as marked.  I was reminded quite a lot of Madonna's Truth or Dare, which also has a big loud artificial opening, though it additionally has all that caramel undercurrent going on.  And it is somewhat louder than La Fleur, I might add!  

But anyway, very quickly that startling entry settles into the main turn, as La Fleur morphs into a very creditable  poor man's version of Dior's New Look 1947 laid over a bed of Truth or Dare - minus the caramel.  Not a deep bed, mind - one of those narrow caravan mattresses.  For I get more New Look than Truth or Dare as La Fleur wears on.  Oh, and I mean "poor" mainly in the monetary sense, for aside from the first few moments, La Fleur feels anything but cheap.  And at £25 for 50ml, it actually is every bit as inexpensive as a celebuscent.  As Truth or Dare, indeed!  But La Fleur comes across as classier than Truth or Dare - which I thought wasn't at all bad when it came out - and its quality feel overall is somewhere in between that and New Look, just as one might expect from such a hybrid smellalike!  I can't quite make up my mind where it sits along the spectrum, but at least half way.  I sense that my knowledge of how much New Look actually costs may be playing into my perception of its superior quality, and I really would have needed to have smelt La Fleur and New Look blind to be sure of my ground.  Though it should be remembered that the opening of New Look doesn't smell artificial, not even for a minute or two.  

When La Fleur gets properly into stride though, you have this pretty big white floral that has been tamed, and tastefully muskified - but crucially not laundry muskified.  In fact The Duchess of Cambridge would have been better off wearing this on her wedding day, because it is the sort of perfume she was going for, though she ended up with something much more sharp and artificial throughout.  

For reference, here are the notes for New Look and Truth or Dare - they are by no means the same, but there is some white floral-vanillic-musk crossover for sure.  I see there is no musk mentioned in New Look below, but maybe the benzoin strikes me that way.

New Look: peony, ylang-ylang, pink pepper, jasmine sambac, rose, tuberose, iris, benzoin, and vanilla

Truth or Dare: jasmine, benzoin and white lily, vanilla absolute, caramelized amber and sensual musk.

LA ROSE (A Mohur-style sleeper?)

“An elegant classic; rose petals with sparkling green notes of galbanum and red berry with a base of Indonesian patchouli, sweet musk and amber.”

Right, so on first smelling this one I immediately thought that La Rose was Lyn Harris's concession to the traditional M & S shopper, the "blue rinse brigade" if I may be so uncharitable.  I got a lot of powdery rose, which can so easily read as old-fashioned to my nose, Floris White Rose-style, and the rose was of that sharp metallic type that I think is the more expensive sort (a natural of some kind even? - can anyone help me out?), but which isn't really my preferred style of the note.  I also got a rooty, earthy facet coming through, very likely from the patchouli, together with the piercing sappy brightness of the galbanum, a note I find challenging as a rule.  I thought La Rose well done and realistic, but on balance probably not my thing, at least not in its early stages.  Then as it develops, Diptyque L'Ombre dans L'Eau came to mind, which also showcases the vegetal quality of the rose.

For reference here are the notes of White Rose and L'Ombre dans L'Eau - interestingly, I seem to have picked up on a shared base of amber and musk!:

White Rose: white rose, violet leaf, carnation, violet, iris and jasmine, amber and musk

L'Ombre dans L'Eau: rose, blackcurrant bud, amber, musk, and myrrh.

I am calling this a "Mohur-style sleeper", not because La Rose smells like it particularly, apart from the retro powdery aspect - this is much greener, however - but because I suspect it will be the one that is overlooked in the trio.  La Fleur in particular is more accessible, more of a contemporary crowd-pleaser, while La Rose feels like a scent from a bygone era.  It comes across as high quality from the off, and may appeal to vintage lovers.  I must say that once the tinny green rose aspect wears off a bit, along with the excess powder of the opening, I do like its later stages quite a lot.  Which I know sounds like damning with faint praise, but the drydown is the longest stage, after all.

LA POUDREE (Hold the opening!)

 “An oriental classic; raspberry and peach nectar with soft rose, orange flower, iris Florentine, vanilla and musk.”

Fleur Oriental incense - the opening of the scent does get up my nose a bit!

I had a polarised reaction to this one: I liked the opening least out of the trio, and the drydown most.  On first application, La Poudrée hits you with a wall of thick musk which instantly harks back to Miller Harris Fleur Oriental, which I do not care for for this very reason, and in this regard is also reminiscent of Parfums de Nicolai Sacrebleu, which has a similarly suffocating opening.  A fug of powder or musk or both - I don't rightly now what I am smelling, but it could induce a headache amongst those of a delicate constitution, as I was the first time I tried it.

Compared to La Fleur, La Poudrée takes longer to move into the next stage, but it is very beautiful when it does - a rosy, fruity, vanilla oriental that I defy anyone not to be seduced by (or anyone who likes vanilla orientals as a category at least).  I can't think of any other overtly fruity vanilla orientals, but this is as lovely as it may be ground-breaking (and it probably isn't - please say if you know of others!).  I can see La Poudrée being a top seller, along with La Fleur.  And I can see La Fleur being more generally wearable, also for me.

For reference, here are the notes of Fleur Oriental and Sacrebleu - ooh, I see Fleur Oriental has musk AND heliotrope - that goes a long way towards explaining its particular fug wall!  And Sacrebleu is a seriously big production as you can see, but - and this is key - it shares "stifled orange notes" with Fleur Oriental and La Poudrée in its opening.  I also note the potentially worrying presence of tonka bean:

Fleur Oriental: fresh orange blossom, heliotrope, spicy carnation, Turkish rose, amber, vanilla and musk

Sacrebleu: mandarin orange, fruits and red berries, carnation, tuberose, jasmine, cinnamon, olibanum, woody notes, vanilla, patchouli, sandalwood, peru balsam and tonka bean.

Overall verdict?  Very well made scents, excellent for the money.  I'd buy two of the three, and with La Poudrée would simply waft and wait a bit.  Now we can all pick up a Miller Harris perfume along with our underwear and ready meals, and the high street is much the better for it.  

Photo of Lyn Harris and shots of the trio of Lyn Harris scents from the M & S website, photo of green rose from 1ms.net, photo of Fleur Oriental incense from the Miller Harris website.

Lyn Harris La Fleur, La Rose & La Poudrée For Marks & Spencer - Part 1: "Remember Preston" - An Extraordinary Tale Of Customer Service

Lyn Harris

I admire the Miller Harris brand.  Its contemporary Englishness appeals.  As does the fact that Lyn Harris is a northerner and wears trainers round the lab.   Then I like the way that - as far as I can detect - her fragrance collection doesn't adhere to any tidy overarching categories or theme; I am also amused by the fact that she famously created a scent for dogs.  Lyn Harris's bespoke perfume prices are relatively affordable compared to Roja Dove's (if not by me), and I have a soft spot for the scrolly designs on the bottles.  Additionally I love the Miller Harris teas, and having finished my stocks of Thé Pétales, I have redeployed the elegant grey canister to store Earl Grey tea bags of more homely provenance.  What else?  I love the lacquered oriental gloom of their tea room in Bruton Street.  I love the bracing citrus kick of Citron Citron shower gel.  In fact I am drawn to many aspects of the house, yet so far the fragrance line itself has failed to exert a visceral pull.   I have yet to develop a Miller Harris perfume lemming as it were.  Hence why I don't own any bottles from the range - or rather, I used to own Fleurs des Bois, but sold it on.  Okay, maybe L'Air de Rien (review here) has come quite close to flexing my solar plexus, but I am managing quite well with my small decant.

The Bruton Street tea room

Then last year I read in the press that Lyn Harris had been approached by Marks & Spencer to collaborate with them on the development of six fragrances: three for men and three for women, to be sold in their new perfume halls in the bigger category of store.  In a fascinating article by Vicki Reid, published in The Daily Telegraph magazine, Lyn Harris explains her creative vision:

"I was thinking about the M & S customer and who they were, and how I could help them come into fine fragrances.  I didn't want them to be so refined nobody could get near them, so they had to be sophisticated and accessible."

For the benefit of readers outside the UK, your typical M & S shopper leans to the conservative - and older - side.  In the cafe attached to my local branch you would be hard pushed to spot a customer not sporting a perm.  Well, amongst the women, anyway.  Their food hall is a whole other ball game, as M & S is synonymous with the ne plus ultra of ready meals, amongst other things.  "This isn't just food porn, this is M & S food porn", as the adverts used to go (well, the subtext, anyway).  Then there are also a couple of individual brands under the M & S umbrella which appeal to a (somewhat) younger demographic, namely Autograph and Per Una.  Famously, one in three British women still buys her underwear in Marks, where they cater to every taste from boudoir chic balconette bras to big - and magic - knickers.

As far as perfume is concerned, I'll be honest and say that I have studiously tuned out to the M & S offering.  The few scents I have tried in the past smelt cheap, old-fashioned, or both.  I was reminded of that trio of later releases by Sarah Jessica Parker: Dawn, Endless and Twilight, in terms of the quality level where  I felt they were pitched.  Though this is all kneejerk stuff, I might add.  I have been so indifferent to the M & S ranges in fact that I haven't even clocked any of the names, though I think there may have been one under the Autograph label on the theme of New York.

But when I heard of this joint venture between Lyn Harris and M & S, I was very, very curious, and equally optimistic.  It has become quite common in the fashion world for a leading designer to create a budget range for a high street chain or supermarket: Amanda Wakeley for Principles, Barbara Hulanicki for Top Shop, Matthew Williamson for H & M, and Gok Wan for Sainsbury's, to name just four examples of the strategy.  However, I don't recall anything like this happening in the world of fragrance - or certainly not bringing niche fragrance to the mass market on such a large scale. The plan apparently is to roll out the range into 126 stores eventually, but as my local branch is small and a bit time warp-y there was no point looking for it there.

M & S HQ in Paddington - a sample-free zone

Ever the market researcher, towards the back end of last year I rang M & S's head office in London and spoke to someone in Customer Services.  I was informed that there was no store within easy striking distance of Stafford where I could test this range first hand.  I inquired about the possibility of samples, explaining my particular interest as a British-based perfume blogger.  No samples were available, but the lady in Customer Services was hopeful of having the lab make some up specially.  "That sounds great", I said, and offered to supply empty vials if it all got too tricky, like that memorable occasion with Ormonde Jayne and Tiare.  The samples never came.  I rang back, and was referred to the M & S PR company, where I spoke to the person handling the account.  She asked me to write in, explaining why I wanted the samples, mentioning the name of my blog etc etc, but thought that in principle it should be possible to rustle a few up somehow.  The samples never came.

M & S Preston - a serendipitous beacon of customer service!

Months passed, when by chance I found myself the other weekend in the M & S store in Preston, buying one of those exotically fancy salads they do so well.  I spotted a sign to the beauty department, and decided to check out the perfume selection on the vague offchance that Preston might be a sufficiently large store to carry the Lyn Harris range.  My expectations were immediately raised by the sight of a dedicated Fragrance Hall.  And towards the end of the fixture, there was the complete Lyn Harris line, together with coffret sets of fragrance and body cream and various sizes of scented candle.  I had struck perfumed pay dirt!

I made myself known to one of the sales staff, Christine, and explained my interest in the range, and how I was dying to try the perfumes and review them on my blog.  In no time I had sprayed all six on my hands and arms, while Christine and I chatted amiably about the Lyn Harris venture, about her own favourite perfume (L'Heure Bleue), and her training from, and admiration for, Roja Dove.  Saturated in scents, I asked after the possibility of samples, though I wasn't terribly hopeful.  They had Scratch 'n' Sniff cards (or "Peel 'n' Sniff" to be precise) of La Rose, but that was the only one.  Christine promptly handed me a whole clutch of these.  But that still left the other five, notably the two remaining feminine scents, La Fleur and La Poudrée.

Almost the M & S logo fashioned from La Rose Peel 'n' Sniff cards

Nothing daunted, and keenly aware of my desire to test these perfumes at more leisure - and equally of my frustrating catalogue of failed attempts to acquire them so far - Christine conferred with her colleague Hannah.  Hannah proceeded to rummage in a drawer by the till and fetched out a handful of little clear perspex pots, of the type usually used to give customers a sample blob of a face cream, say.   Before I knew it they had a two-woman production line going, and were spraying, taping, labelling and bagging all the scents in the range, with the exception of Le Sauvage.  I think they may have run out of pots, or depleted their pot stocks to perilously low levels, so we called it a day after five of the six - I was more interested in the women's ones anyway.  After thanking the duo profusely, I hotfooted it back to my hotel, taking care to keep the bag upright in case the sticky tape wasn't hermetic, and the jostling pots leaked into one another.  But apart from a bit of evaporation, I managed to transport my precious cargo all the way back to Stafford without incident, and have been quietly trying them this week, once my sense of smell gradually returned following a pesky cold.

Mini-reviews to follow in Part 2!

Meanwhile, for readers who didn't live in Britain in the 80s, here is the advert to which the title: "Remember Preston" alludes...; - )



Photo of Lyn Harris from M & S website, photo of M & S HQ from artofthestate.co.uk, photo of M & S Preston from Google Maps, photo of M & S underwear from Ebay, other photos my own

The Soap Opera Series: No 1 - Use It Or Lose It: My Albino Bar Of Roger & Gallet Sandalwood Soap

Strange albino sandalwood soap

The other day, around that virtual water cooler that is my - and so many other people's these days - Facebook wall, a lively discussion about soap unfolded.  To my great surprise, it turns out that soap is considered deeply old-fashioned these days, presumably because consumers have moved over to the new generation of pump-dispensed "hand" and "body washes".  As one Facebook friend commented:

"I didn't know anyone (under 70) still used soap.  It's damn hard to find in the supermarkets these days.  When looking a while back for my husband's (much) older sister we spent ages till we found a tiny selection hiding on the bottom shelf..."

She went on to confirm the switch to other dispensing formats:

"Shower gel in the shower/bath, liquid soap for hands.  The supermarket says there's very little demand for tablet soap, and the only person I know who uses it is my Mum (obviously 'over 70'), and, as I say, my husband's much older sister."

Then my sister-in-law chimed in to suggest where traditional soap tablets may still be found:

"I think soap has migrated from supermarkets to be the mainstay of artisanal market stalls.  I bulk buy at a French fair that comes to Edinburgh twice a year.  That, and stealing hotel toiletries."

My own worryingly extensive - but culturally diverse - collection of stolen hotel soap

So this was all very interesting, for while I do have a bottle of liquid soap in the bathroom for visitors, I am myself still wedded to the smoothly contoured physicality of the conventional bar: for its tactile qualities, invariably restful pastel colours and of course for its scent... And I am considerably under 70, I should point out, and not noticeably of retro proclivities.  I do not find myself drawn unduly to other throwback toiletries such as Yardley talc or Badedas bubble bath.

But still, I cling to hard bars of soap.  And so it was that the other day I had more or less finished a tablet of Morny Sandalwood (the remaining cracked sliver of which has now been relegated to the kitchen - which has become something of a donkey sanctuary for unprepossessing soap remnants).

Unsightly soap slivers on the kitchen windowsill

And meanwhile, back in the bathroom, I finally broached the bar of Roger & Gallet Sandalwood Soap featured in this earlier post.  I have a special attachment to the Bois de Santal or sandalwood one, for someone I was rather keen on used to use it years ago.  Around that time I bought myself one of those individual round dishes the Roger & Gallet soap comes in and kept it on a high shelf, occasionally taking it down to sniff the Proustian scent of sandalwood through the wrapper.  But it wasn't till the other day that I actually took the wrapper off - and revealed the startlingly white and unscented bar concealed within its scrunchy folds.

How very strange!  My recollection was that sandalwood soap was always coloured - anything from a yellowy cream through to a deeper orange shade - but this was the first time I had ever encountered a pure white sandalwood bar.  I figured that the perfume might well have evaporated over the years - and my reading of soap making forums tends to confirm this - but was suprised to see such an albino-looking appearance.  But it seems that colour too may fade with time, and in fairness I had kept it for an awfully long time.

Geo F Trumper sandalwood soap - pale, but within acceptable pantone parameters

Yes, it was looking like a case of "use it or lose it" on both the dimensions of colour and perfume, but before accepting this, I decided to double check what exact colour this soap had been originally.  A cursory trawl of Google images strongly points to all sandalwood soap being somewhere along the light yellowy-cream to orange spectrum.  My expired bar of Morny sandalwood was squarely in the apricot area of the bell curve, for example, while the Geo F Trumper shaving soap pictured above (spotted during the perfume crawl the other weekend), clocked in at the creamier yellow end.

The reassuringly apricot tone of Morny sandalwood soap

First off, I inquired of the person who had sparked the sentimental association, with whom I am still in contact:

"Ummm....come to think of it, it may have been a light colour....I seem to recall a light yellow...but that may have been the colouring."

Indeed so, but it is the colour itself I am after, however contrived.

Next up, I rang the Customer Service department for Roger & Gallet, which turns out to be part of the Vichy group.  After an incredibly long wait, the lady who answered said she had no personal experience of the soap, and no images to hand of a bar in either its wrapped or - more importantly - unwrapped state.  On her recommendation, I proceeded to call five Roger & Gallet stockists dotted around the country - in what I hoped would be fairly upmarket locations - hoping to skew the chances that I might stumble upon a pharmacy assistant who incorporated this rather high end brand into her own skincare regime.  This proved to be fairly hit and miss as a research method, as the staff in the stores tended not to be users in fact, and of course the wrapping means that the only people who could help me were those who had ever seen a bar open.

Roger & Gallet sandalwood soap in its teasingly wrapped state

So for what they are worth, here are the results of my small straw poll of stockists:

- One pharmacy didn't answer.

- One pharmacy took ages to answer, and a further ages again to ascertain that they stocked Roger & Gallet, even though I had found them on a stockist list, and took that as a given.  I was told to call back after three to speak to someone else "who might know more".

- One pharmacy helpfully scrutinised several bars through their wrappers and pronounced the soap to be "a creamy neutral, like they all are", adding the disclaimer: "but don't take my word for it, as it was through blue paper".

- One pharmacy remembered the sandalwood soap as being "a dark white colour - you know, the way most soap tends to be these days".  I take "dark white" still to be crucially different from the present "stark white"...

- The final pharmacy came up with the pithy response: "cream, I assume", again based on peering through the wrapper on a "without prejudice" basis.

Additional titbits to share from my inquiries are the fact that one pharmacy said I should take a look on Ebay for images(!) - yes, and why don't I just buy it there while I am at it...?  Another warned me off using my albino bar altogether.  Hey, you are speaking to the woman who reheats non-reheatable foodstuffs with impunity days after they were first cooked!  Colourless, odourless soap holds no terrors for me....

So there we have it.  On balance, I think this bar has simply faded from its original off-white-to-yellow colour, and the scent has disappeared altogether.  In one final burst of googling, I chanced upon this image of a vintage bar of Roger & Gallet sandalwood soap.  Oh my, just look how dark it is!

Roget & Gallet Sandalwood soap from its pigment-rich heyday

My recent experience does beg the question whether readers have any preconceptions of what colour a soap should be (I still expect something yellowy-orange in the case of sandalwood, for example) - or a perfume indeed.  I like my amber scents to be a little bit orange, for instance - I think I might feel shortchanged with a completely colourless one.

So...do you have any colour prejudice when it comes to scented products of any kind?  Let me know!


Photo of blue dish of Roger & Gallet soap from ebay, photo of vintage version from precisensan.se, other photos my own