The 'Careful Whispers' series: No 3 - Tauer Perfumes Cologne du Maghreb review

Source: tauerperfumes.com

Before anyone mentions it, I am as surprised as the next person to be featuring a Tauer perfume in my 'Careful Whispers' series. As with 'first generation' Mona di Orios, I didn't really get on with the early releases from the line - or maybe, at that neophyte stage of my perfume j*****y, my nose was too easily overwhelmed by the robust style of scent Andy Tauer tended to favour then.  The stellar exception to that being L'Air du Désert Marocain, a haunting dusty-spicy-woody rose number I love so much I am prepared to go through the faff of giving it its proper accent.  And though LADDM is also potent, it is utterly mesmeric once it has worn on the skin for a while. But otherwise, back in those early days I continued to have issues with the bristly 'Tauerade' base, metallic notes generally (Zeta and the galvanised lily that is Carillon pour un Ange, which I do still like), and latterly also soap (Orange Star).

The release of Tableau de Parfums Miriam and Noontide Petals marked a definite turning point in my appreciation of Andy Tauer's work, most probably because these scents are in a quieter register.  The aldehydic notes in both were playful and ticklish, while the soapy aspect of Noontide Petals was eclipsed ultimately by the tang of ylang-ylang and the radiant glow of other white florals.  Now I know I haven't mentioned PHI Une Rose de Kandahar on Bonkers yet, but I made its acquaintance earlier this year thanks to a sample from Val the Cookie Queen, and was instantly smitten.  In PHI Une Rose de Kandahar the nuzzling fizz of the aldehydes is accompanied by a photorealistic rose note of such rarity that fans of the scent will have to wait till the autumn for production to be resumed when that particular material is available again. PHI might well be my first full bottle purchase of a Tauer Perfume, which is testament to how far my taste has come - or to how far Andy Tauer's work happens to have veered up my congenially wispy alley!

PHI Une Rose de Kandahar ~ Source: fragrantica.com

And so to Cologne du Maghreb.  An email from Jeffrey Dame, CEO of Hypoluxe, who distributes Tauer Perfumes in the USA, landed in my inbox the other day.  He inquired whether I wished to sample Cologne du Maghreb, which - as I have just learnt - is a relaunch of a limited edition scent from 2011.  If so, he would arrange for Andy to mail it out directly.  Well, given the intensity of my attachment to PHI, I was indeed curious to try this unisex summer scent, and within what felt like a blink of an eye the package was here, accompanied by a handwritten card - thanks, both!

Well, off the bat I would like to say is how impressed I was with the thin flat box the sample came in - a perfect example of 'packaging commensurate to the size of its contents', which is what I like to see.  A complete absence of ostentatious boxes, plinths, huge slabs of foam or extravagantly padded envelopes.

Next up, I thought to google Maghreb, as I felt I should clarify the geographical frame of reference for this latest addition to the Tauer stable.  Well, it appears to be a region of North West Africa comprising Libya, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia and Mauritania.  Mauritania?  Why, I thought that was a ship!  

So the first thing I should say about Cologne du Maghreb - or rather, I will let Andy Tauer say it - is that it is an 'all-natural, all-botanical fragrance, a traditional cologne, light and not made to last'.

A fulfilment operative at Tauer Towers

I completely concur with that - and it is such a startling aspect of a Tauer scent - yet it is a fact that Cologne du Maghreb is noticeably fleeting on me.  Or to be exact, after the stunningly bright, herbaceous opening - which reminds me very much of Guerlain Sous le Vent and also a little bit of the top notes of Mito EDP - Cologne du Maghreb quickly subsides into a very soft, ambery-vetivery hum covered in a light dusting of sherbet. There is rose in there I see, but I can't say I can pick it out, not that that means anything, for my nose is a blunt instrument at the best of times. Texturally, I'd describe the opening as granular - not in the bullshit bingo sense of 'granular', meaning 'detailed' or 'drilled down' (eep!) - but  in the sense of actual granules pinging off your nasal receptors, like finely crushed ice.

I tested Cologne du Maghreb before learning about its all-botanical composition, but I can well believe that now.   It was hyper-zesty, pleasantly tart without being acerbic.  The herbal facet was nicely under control, and didn't tip the composition into more fougere-y or other astringent male territory.  The citrus bouquet was sooo realistic that it was like sniffing a brace of neat aromatherapy oils simultaneously from the bottle. Or crushing the rinds of oranges and lemons in a pestle and releasing the sticky oil from the peel. (I used to work in the juice industry, would you believe, though even in 1985 we were a mite more automated in our juice extraction processes - on the one product not wholly made from concentrate, that is. ; -) ) Then conversely to the rose, I thought I picked up on petitgrain, but I see none listed.  No matter - it was a bracing, refreshing hit like nothing else I have tried in the cologne genre, quite possibly because of its all-natural provenance.

Source: guerlain.com

In terms of the rationale / inspiration for Cologne du Maghreb - I refuse to say backstory, not even as two words - Andy Tauer wished to combine traditional cologne-making techniques with an oriental twist. Though, as he is careful to point out on his blog, not the sort of twist that involves 'synthetic oudh and cheap metallic damascenone'.  No, we are talking lemon groves in Marrakech, cedar trees in Algeria's Atlas mountains, and rock roses in scrubby terrain pretty much anywhere in the region.

Notes: citrus accord, cistus, ambreine, cedarwood, Java vetiver oil, bergamot, lemon, neroli, orange blossom, lavender, rosemary, rose absolute, rose essential oil, clary sage

I really like Cologne due Maghreb, and the fact that you would have to reapply it quite often - not least to enjoy the revivifying rush of the opening again and again - would not bother me.  Hey, I am always looking for ways to use up more perfume, and extreme tenacity is not necessarily a virtue in my book.  Given how I struggled with the likes of Lonestar Memories, I feared it might be too butch, notwithstanding the unisex billing, but it really does sit smack in the middle of the gender divide (for anyone who believes there is such a thing, as I guess I still do).  And readers mourning the recently discontinued Sous le Vent might be reassured to know that there is a worthy - if whisper quiet - substitute on offer.

And and in case you are curious, and not already familiar with its topography, here is a photo of Mauritania!

Source: wikipedia.org

And here is the ship in question, which has a slightly different spelling after all, as Wikipedia put me straight: 'The ship's name was taken from Mauretania, an ancient Roman province on the northwest African coast, not the Modern Mauritania which is now to the south.'

But best of all, this very ship was renamed HMS Tuberose for a year...  I don't make this stuff up, you know...!

RMS Mauretania ~ Source: wikipedia.org

Nipper nose Noura and her perfume recipe...!

'G' ~ Source: fragrantica.com

Anyone who read my review of Puredistance BLACK last year may remember a reference to my friend Ruth, who featured in my 'visualisation' of the fragrance, as the PR blurb urged us to do.  I imagined her wearing either Bvlgari Mon Jasmin Noir or Ralph Lauren Notorious, which are both scents that smell terrific on her. She actually turned up that night rocking Carnal Flower(!), from another sample I had given her. Ruth's recent scent discoveries are not the subject of this post as it happens, but rather the remarkable interest in fragrance which her seven year old niece Noura is currently developing...

Noura lives in the Shetlands, where Ruth is also from, and where her elderly mother and a couple of her siblings still live.  Nothwithstanding the challenging logistics of getting to this most northerly part of The British Isles, Ruth goes over there quite often to keep an eye on her mother and generally catch up with family.  Following a recent visit, she reported that her niece Noura had 'made' a perfume and ceremoniously presented it to her grandmother, Ruth's mother, as a gift.

My ears immediately pricked up when I heard this tantalising titbit of news. 'How do you mean..."made"?' was my opening question.  Ruth conducted further inquiries and reported back that Noura had spritzed a carefully chosen selection of readymade perfumes into a receptacle of some kind - presumably a spray bottle - given it a good shake, and pronounced her creation good to go.  So obviously I wanted to know which perfumes had made the cut and been included in Noura's proprietary blend, and to my delight, Ruth came back with a scanned copy of Noura's actual 'perfume recipe'!

So, for ease of reference, these perfumes are set out below - not necessarily in order of magnitude in the overall formulation, to which I am not privy.  I have also added a bit of information on each 'ingredient' where known (and not likely to be familiar to readers already, as in the note list to L'Eau d'Issey, say):

Jennifer Lopez Live (2005)

'About living in the moment, feeling truly free...A truly floral oriental fragrance.'  And fruity, it looks like!

Top notes: pineapple, lemon, bergamot

Heart notes; peony, redcurrant, violet

Base notes: vanilla, sandalwood, tonka

Spongebob Squarepants special eau de toilette (girls)

Well, who knew that the Nickelodeon cartoon character Spongebob had a perfume range? No note information was available, but I found this description: 'A flowery refreshing and lovely floral with sweet and citrusy fruits'.

And better still, a video clip featuring a perfume store(!), albeit not in a good way...;-)

Gwen Stefani Harajuku Lovers (thought to be 'G')

Top notes: mandarin, fresh coconut, apple peel
Heart notes: jasmine sambac, freesia, magnolia
Base notes: coconut cream, white sandalwood, cottonwoods

Golly, Noura is not shy of coconut! ;)

Shetland Isles ~ Source: geograph.org.uk

Marks & Spencer Florentyna (discontinued)

Notes: gardenia, jasmine, lily of the valley, orange, musk

Hmm, Noura appears to be a bit of a big white floral- as well as a fruit and nut-loving girl?

True to Yourself (haven't managed to find anything out about this one - can anyone help?)

Issey Miyake L'Eau d'Issey (but Noura's spelling is better!) (1992)

'A floral woody marine scent.' Hmm, do I detect an aquatic sub-theme?  And a bit of a penchant for peony, which features in both L'Eau d'Issey and Live.

Source: fragrantica.com

Calvin Klein Escape (1991 - reprising the 'feeling free' theme of J-Lo Live!)

Notes: camomile, lychee, apple, mandarin, rose, plum, peach, coriander, sandalwood

Wow, Noura's recipe is shaping up to be the full fruit salad, what with the fruitfest of Escape, the pineapple and redcurrant in Live, plus a fair few apples and mandarins along the way!  And I see that Fragrantica describes Escape as having a hint of a marine scent about it, echoing the general vibe of L'Eau d'Issey, which is of course as fruity as it is aquatic.  Yes, I get a huge melon note from it along with an abience of freshly exited shower cubicle.

Another thing that strikes me about Noura's selection of perfumes to go in her creation is the fact that several of them are quite 'old' - well, if you are only seven, I mean.  Two of them date from twenty odd years ago, which is three times Noura's age.  So in terms of her generation, you might well say she has 'classic' taste.

I have not met Noura, or smelt her perfume - I haven't even ascertained if it has a name or not, though 'Noura' strikes me as as pretty a name as any.  It is Arabic in origin apparently, and means 'inner light'. Apparently Noura likes to wear perfume whenever her aunts are around - and generally, I shouldn't wonder. I plan to send her a package of samples when I get a minute, for I believe Noura the nipper sniffer should be encouraged as much as possible!

After all, we could be looking at the next Christine Nagel or Calice Becker...

Mistaking scents for store cupboard staples

Wedding scent and wedding favour ~ Source: Sue Morley

CONTENT ADVISORY - This post plumbs new depths of tangentially scent-related trivia - no bathroom pun intended. ;)  And that should perhaps be 'shallows'?

I am afraid my posting rhythm on Bonkers has been a bit disrupted of late - partly by a phase of 'extreme research' into bathroom fixtures and fittings, as I embark on the next major home improvement project. My ongoing visits to bathroom showrooms even spawned a blog post, but the unbridled silliness that follows here is nothing to do with my current preoccupation with sanitaryware, but rather with an amusing status update I spotted on Facebook.  In it my cousin's wife, who recently celebrated the wedding of her daughter in Canada (the location is significant) writes:

"One day soon, I will inevitably spray myself with maple syrup and pour Chanel No 5 on my pancakes."

Sue's jokey post struck a chord with me, and I idly started to rummage in my own pantry for inspiration.  It took a matter of mere moments to assemble a collection of store cupboard staples which could readily be confused with fragrances - based mainly on bottle shape in my own case, but sometimes also on the colour of their contents.

I kicked off with this bottle of extra extra virgin cat's pyjamas organic bio olive oil featured in my recent post from Berlin.  It is rather reminiscent of Givenchy Pi, don't you think? - just lose the bizarre top and slightly tweak the trapezoid angle - why, it even has Greek letters on it to boot!  Then before I knew it I was on a roll...

Source: douglas.de

Bottles of olive oil - or the ones in my cupboard, certainly - seem to come in particularly kindred shapes to perfume, as evidenced by this one, which - through half closed eyes at least - is a dead ringer for the Bois 1920 range.  Oh, okay, it really needs broader shoulders, I can see that:

Source: fragrantica

And then there is that good old accompaniment to fish and chips, Sarson's malt vinegar, doing a pretty decent imitation of J-Lo's Glow and its various flaming flankers...

Source: fragrancex.com

Hmm, what about the staple food of my house plants, Baby Bio, giving those ornate Ajne bottles a run for their money...

And finally, I feel sure there is a perfume bottle opposite number for this sweet chilli dipping sauce, but it eludes me for the moment.  If you have an idea about that, or can think of any other frivolous pantry and perfume bottle pairings, do let me know in the comments.  I also had a tall bottle of Styrian pumpkin oil that was a near miss for Profumi del Forte, but the neck shaping was quite a bit off.  I mention this just in case anyone was thinking of giving me a present of fancy cooking oil in the near future.  I think I am luxuriously well catered for in that department thanks, as I have two more bottles besides those (albeit with unremarkable contours). But for the record more gin would always go down well... ;)

Oh, and if anyone has any remaining appetite for things beyond the kitchen that are also shaped like perfume bottles there's a round up of other oddities here.

The Scent Crimes Series: No 14 - Stealth perfuming roses

Goodness, there seem to have been a fair number of scent crime posts lately - either that or I am just becoming more irritable in my old age...but here we are at No 14 already.

Some readers may remember my post last year, which could perhaps be described as a paean to the roses in my garden, and the variety of their scents. Okay, one or two didn't appear to smell of anything - for reasons I never did quite fathom - but mostly they did, with the peachy-pink and yellow ones coming out on top of the fragrant league table.

Nine months on, my garden is still going through its kaleidoscopic spring flower display of cherry blossom and clematis, with the odd splash of scarlet from an errant tulip, or bank of yellow from wild poppies. I did, however, have a strange encounter with a rose recently - in an Indian restaurant, to be precise.  A group of us had gone there last Saturday night, and the customary ritual at the end of our meal of hot towels, a complimentary tot of some unspecified liqueur, and After Eight Mints was swiftly followed by the bestowing of a single long-stemmed yellow rose on the ladies of our party, to wit my friend Clare and me.

Well, the first thing someone like me is going to do when presented with a rose is have a jolly good sniff, isn't it?  So imagine my surprise when my nose was greeted by a very artificial-smelling vanilla scent - of the same calibre as those cheap tea lights you get in pound shops, if you know what I mean.  Now I love vanilla as a note, but this was a very poor rendition, trust me. So I immediately made a moue of disappointment and instinctively thrust the flower in the general direction of the waiter. 'Look, it seems to have had perfume sprayed on it!' I exclaimed in a tone of shocked concern.  The waiter was inscrutable on this point, and promptly disappeared into the kitchen, giving just the ghost of a shrug as he went.  But I knew the restaurant had to be responsible...for I have protested my own innocence before now, following an act of stealth perfuming.  I am thinking of the time I spritzed ex-Mr Bonkers's side of the bed with L'Artisan's L'Eté en Douce to extract humorous revenge for a slur on my laundering capabilities (it being a very laundry musky style of scent, you see).  The full escapade is recorded here.

Source: wilko.com

Meanwhile, Clare agreed that her rose also smelt odd and had plainly been tampered with, but we dutifully carried our flowers home, whereupon I put mine in water and went to bed.  The next morning I came downstairs to find the unpleasantly cheap vanilla scent still permeating the immediate surroundings of the dining room table.  Moreover, the petals looked visibly withered and darkened in colour.  'Oh dear', I thought to myself, 'the aromachemicals in the fragrance must have got at the petals in some way - unless the rose was not long for this world anyway.'  Deep down though, I suspected the perfume of having hastened the poor plant's decline, but maybe some horticulturalists out there can confirm this either way.

So I have to ask - have you ever come across an artificially scented rose - in an Indian restaurant or anywhere for that matter?  

And if so, in your opinion is the spritzing of roses with perfume injurious to the health of the flower?

Hmm, I must say this incident certainly brought the message home that in certain instances - on plants as on the public at large - 'no perfume is better than some'...

A Tattoo Named Desire: Vero Profumo Rozy edp review, and musings on perfumer bias

The Rose Tattoo House in Key West, Florida

I would have written this post earlier in the week, and blame Birgit of Olfactoria's Travels for the delay. Yes, I have been devouring one of her book recommendations, Louise Doughty's Apple Tree Yard, and much of my free time this week has been lost to that.  It was a chilling, truly electrifying read, and I heartily endorse her selection.

Then, thanks to Tara of OT, I have had a sample of Vero Profumo's Rozy edp for a little while now, and have tested it a number of times.  At least six in fact, toggling between wrists to preclude 'wrist bias'.  And I am going to spell it 'Rozy' rather than '.rozy.' as per the bottle, if you don't mind, because of the risk of grammatical confusion - and the fact that I am too lazy to 'dot my full stops', as it were.

Source: Bloom Perfumery

So...the leviathan that is mainstream perfumery trundles on apace with its unseemly number of launches every season, but as readers may have noticed I mostly tune out to that.  Instead, my ears are at least half-cocked to the latest niche launches.  The blogo-planets seems to be moving through the house of Vero Profumo at the moment, with numerous reviews appearing - notably of all the Rozy variants, but also Mito, Rubj and Onda.  Less so Kiki, though I do like that one.  We also seem to be in a bit of an En Voyage Perfumes phase, and one of Liz Moores for that matter, though I have yet to try her line.  Not so long ago Perfume Land was reverberating with reviews of Neela Vermeire's original trio, followed by a delightful aftershock of acclaim for Ashoka, while Puredistance has also caused a few spikes of interest, most recently with its launch of BLACK.

The Vero Profumo range I spied at Mussler Beauty, Stuttgart

But right now, if I had to 'call the market', I would say that Vero Kern's work is riding particularly high and capturing people's imagination, not least because Vero herself is such a vibrant, original and down to earth character by all accounts.  I would venture to say that she is the perfumer equivalent of Vivienne Westwood crossed with Germaine Greer.  A number of my blogger friends have met Vero in person - several times even, properly hanging out with her, indeed! - I am thinking of Freddie of Smellythoughts, for example, and Val the Cookie Queen of (mostly) Australian Perfume Junkies.  And then of course at the recent workshop in London hosted by Bloom Perfumery, a number of other perfumistas and bloggers had the opportunity to meet Vero and learn more about the inspiration behind her work, including Tara herself and Sabine of Iridescents.

Tennessee Williams and Anna Magnani ~ Source: swide.com

So the collective reports of meet-ups with Vero Kern have predisposed me to like her even more, which is what I mean in the title by 'perfumer bias'.  I really, really want to like all of Vero Kern's work, because I admire and am drawn to what I know of the woman.  And I am conscious that I have probably tried harder with her fragrances than I would if they had been the latest release by Parfums d'Empire or Parfums de Nicolai, say. I will also admit to having been nervous about testing Rozy. As I wrote to Val via Facebook: 'What is Rozy like?  Sounds a bit massive / 'out there' from the notes?', to which she replied: 'Not massive, just gorgeous.'

Notes: Rose d'Orient, lilac, peaches, passionfruit, honey and sandalwood

But whilst I have instantly taken to scents like Kiki edp, Rubj edp and Mito Extrait and Voile d'Extrait - the opening of Mito edp remains a little acerbic for my tastes - Rozy has proved a bit more of a challenge.

Determined to keep this pink theme going ~ Source: Wikipedia

The inspiration for Rozy has been well documented in other reviews, namely that Vero Kern's muse was the Italian actress Anna Magnani, especially in her role as the lusty, headstrong and hot-tempered Serafina Delle Rose in the Tennessee Williams play, 'The Rose Tattoo'. According to one rather sparse plot summary I found online, it 'tells the story of an Italian-American widow in Louisiana who has allowed herself to withdraw from the world after her husband's death and expects her daughter to do the same.'  To be fair, Rosario the husband isn't dead all the way through, and the play also involves dressmaking, smuggling, long distance lorry driving, adultery and betrayal, together with rose tattoos on the person of practically everybody except Serafina herself, though she does experience a sort of 'rose tattoo stigmata' early on in the story on learning that she is pregnant. The film was mostly shot in Key West, and the house where much of the action is set is still known as Rose Tattoo House.

Source: findyourtattoo.net

Google the name 'Rozy', however, as I did in an idle moment, and in that well known resource of Urban Dictionary you will find a much less rumbustious kind of a gal:

'A cute and very sweet little girl living in Connecticut who likes to sleep with cuddly gray sweatshirts on, sleep with her chubby and very soft bunny, stay up all night working on English essays...' and more in that vein.

So banish that image of a Rozy 'perzona' from your mind right off the bat, though lilac could be thought of as a bit of a demure, cutesie note I guess (FM En Passant springs to mind.)  But not here....

Anna Magnani ~ Source: Wikipedia

Okay, so I have written down my impressions each time I have tried Rozy edp...The opening is a bit of a shock, and not the sort of thing I usually like - powdery in a musky, intense way. Texturally I am reminded of PdN Sacrebleu, which hits you with an opaque 'wall of stuff' that I am at a loss to describe in more detail. Sometimes, but not on every test, I detected a slightly sharp, angular quality to the opening that quickly subsided.  On one such occasion my thoughts also drifted to some unidentified boozy-fruity-woody scent by Frapin - or maybe Ginestet's Botrytis.  The fruitiness morphed into more of a distinctively winey, woody, almost menthol-y scent.  I have written 'corked claret' to evoke the woody undertow, and also 'cough syrup'.  For what Rozy most resembled after about twenty minutes or so was Halls Soothers in blackcurrant flavour - possibly cherry, but a dark, deep fruity one for sure.  But as I say, sometimes Rozy skipped this very brief Soothers stage and segued from the musky opening straight into 'broadly beaming fruit'.

For up next is a phase that was uniformly present and much more winsome and accessible - more in the style of Rubj (which I like a lot), but Rubj oozing with honey, and with different flowers.  It is a radiant phase, bright and upbeat, and still noticeably fruity. I get more of the peach at this point - the passionfruit may in fact have been what my nose read as blackcurrant earlier? - and the rose and lilac are pushing through, drenched in honey.  Now honey is a tricky note for me at the best of times - Viktoria Minya's Hedonist was all kinds of wrong on my skin, for example, as Freddie is my witness! - but the honey here is one of the highlights.

A bolt of silk fabric, doing a good impression of a rose ~ Source: ebay.com

As Rozy wears on and becomes generally more attenuated, predictably I like it even more.  Images of Greek yoghurt laced with honey float into my mind, or a shower creme based around honey and milk.  This is the most beautiful part - a silken, honeyed, milky lava, flowing at an almost imperceptibly slow speed.

And then, in the far drydown - on most occasions, but not all - Rozy bites back again, when the honey note turns ever so slightly urinous - what Elena of Perfumeshrine once described as 'honeyed piss' in connection with Absolue pour le Soir by Maison Francis Kurkdjian.  This is phenylacetic acid, apparently - or something behaving very much like it on my wrist.  I can tolerate it these days, as my threshold for animalic notes has greatly come on since I first developed an interest in perfume.  It made me smile, if anything.  There was still a trace of it on my skin this morning after yet another wearing last night.  I should give Schiaparelli's Shocking another go, as I may be ready to meet that same animalic note there again...

So, believe me, I tried to love this, but a diva fruity scent like this was always going to struggle to reel me in. Even Plum by Mary Greenwell, one of the few 'big fruity chypres' to get under my radar, can be a mistake on some days.  But apart from the fuggy wallop of the opening, and despite Rozy being fruitier than I normally go for, I do genuinely like it, and just wish I liked it even more!

And I remain as keen as ever to meet Vero Kern some day. And her dog.  And I don't even like dogs - or most dogs, certainly!  That's perfumer bias for you.

Source: Facebook

PS I would be interested to hear whether you are prone to 'perfumer bias' in relation to any particular fragrance line or collection of that perfumer's work, and how this plays out in your sniffing experience?

Agonist The Infidels, Absolument Absinthe, and a lot of perfumes beginning with 'V': Sidmouth's Woodforde Perfumery revisited

So last weekend I travelled down to stay with friends in Sidmouth, a sort of Devonian Cheltenham-on-sea with a disproportionate quota of palm trees and mobility scooters.  Although I avoided the Easter rush by setting off on Saturday, the journey was not without incident - I hadn't even reached Worcester when a warning light came on that I had never seen before. Nerves a-jangle, I pulled off the motorway and consulted the handbook, which was ambiguous on this point.  On Page 8 it stated that this particular yellow flashing light - the so-called 'runflat indicator' - meant you had sustained a puncture and should stop driving immediately!  On Page 59 it said that the runflat indicator only means that the tyre pressures are out of alignment, and that the sensor triggering the warning light 'cannot detect damage by external influences'.  This I took to mean the sort of sharp object which might cause a tyre to puncture...  So, in the face of such comprehensive uncertainty, I conducted a visual inspection of all four tyres, and checked and adjusted the pressures at a nearby Tesco filling station....though not before I had rung three local garages and a car showroom, my friends in Devon, my own garage and car dealership back in Stafford and BMW's emergency out of hours helpline (which also covers Minis).  This straw poll - okay, not all of them answered their phone, with it being Easter - suggested that having taken the aforementioned action I could chance the remaining 149 miles of my journey with relative impunity, and so it proved.

The next two days were very mixed weatherwise: Sunday was spent watching old films and knitting hats for my hosts - my friend's husband actually wanted his!  On Monday the weather was glorious, and in the morning I was taught how to use a log splitting machine and store wood in a large converted dog kennel - my spatial awareness has come on by leaps and bounds as a result. ;)  That afternoon we went for a spectacular coastal walk, and on the following day everything was open again, so we could hit the town's shops in earnest - not least Woodforde Perfumery, the Les Senteurs of East Devon.  I was eager to see what new lines or individual releases the store had got in since my visit last July - or indeed, what perfumes that were new to me I had missed last time.

Do those Amouage factices look big to you?

As ever, my friend hovered patiently beside me as John, one of the owners, passed me blotters.  I had a good old go of sampling a couple of ranges: Profumi del Forte and Agonist.  Profumi Del Forte I had tried in Berlin in 2011, when nothing had particularly caught my fancy, but this time John was steering me towards scents in my preferred fragrance families or ones which he felt were a bit distinctive or original.

Note to self to write the names on the blotters a bit more legibly next time, but I appear to have tested a whopping total of 11.  Apart from anything else I was struck by how many begin with 'V' (almost half!), which to my mind compounds the confusion already surrounding those perfume houses with 'Profum-' in their name:

Fiorisia / Frescoamaro / Roma Imperiale / Tirrenica / Vittoria Apuana / Versilia Aurum / Versilia Platinum / Versilia Vintage Ambra Mediterranea / Versilia Vintage Boisé / Forte by Night Bianco /150 Parfum

My favourite was Forte by Night Bianco, a powdery, musky, vanillic floral that was pleasant without being groundbreaking.  There were one or two oddball marine scents in my selection, namely Frescoamaro and Tirrenica (I have written 'dentist' on the blotter of the latter, a reference to its sharply spicy quality rather than a reminder to myself to change my appointment, which I do also need to do).  One or two others I could imagine being quite nice on a man, though I can't for the life of me remember which now.  Only one fragrance smelt 'mainstream' rather than niche - another musky floral called Fiorisia.  I accept that I may have tried all the perfumes too quickly, and made very snap judgements based on the opening notes on card, so if anyone has a favourite from the Profumi del Forte line - on this list or more generally - I would be interested to know if I have overlooked a gem.

Agonist, meanwhile, is a tortured Scandiwegian house of which I have only recently made the acquaintance. This is thanks to Neil Chapman's recent talk for Perfume Lovers London on vanilla scents, in which he featured the 'Play-Doh cathedral' that is Vanilla Marble.  Now I had a chance to try most of the range (Liquid Crystal, Black Amber, Dark Saphir, Isis, Solaris and The Infidels). My overall comment is that they shared a house style that I would describe as rather 'cold', clear and edgy - as befits their gloomy Nordic ethos, I suppose - but only one attracted me on a visceral level. This was The Infidels, which was also Jane, the other owner's personal favourite of the line.  She kindly let me sniff it from her own personal bottle, as they were out of testers, and I tried both The Infidels and Solaris (a curious rhubarb and grapefruit number) on skin.

The Infidels had a number of distinctive phases, all of which I enjoyed, and though I can't do it justice retrospectively, I did read a number of reviews while its vestiges were still on my skin, and would align myself most closely with this one from Kevin of Now Smell This.  The Infidels was elegant and subtle at all times on me.  Steve of The Scented Hound wasn't so impressed, however, and found it too hippie-ish for his taste, while Kafka was afflicted with a Juicy Fruit chewing gum note that I must say I didn't detect at all.

Ref the list below, these are very much my kind of notes, though I could manage fine without all that provenance information, to be frank.  The blackcurrant was very well behaved - Kevin refers to it as 'blunted', ditto the cumin. This duo of notes is mentioned by several reviewers, although I didn't pick up specifically on either - this may be precisely because the blunting was so expertly done. ;)  I was just aware of a spicy citrusy opening with a vaguely fruity facet, followed by a patchouli interlude, segueing into the smoothly sensual woody-amber drydown.

Notes: pink peppercorn, Sicilian lemon, cloves, Indian davana and elemi, May rose, Turkish rose, Sambac jasmine, Egyptian jasmine, Burmese magnolia, iris, Comoros ylang-ylang, Somali myrrh, opoponax, patchouli, sandalwood, vetiver, cistus, Peruvian balm, Lebanese cedarwood, Virginia cedarwood, Indian amber, Bourbon vanilla

John holding Absolument Absinthe and its vibrantly green leather case

If The Infidels was the scented highlight of my visit, in terms of sheer novelty value it was another line that wins the prize: Absolument Parfumeur and its flagship scent, Absolument Absinthe Le Parfum d'Interdits, which contains two banned substances we were told - absinthe and cannabis!  Well, I can't comment on the banned aspect, as I haven't been keeping up with the ins and outs of the latest IFRA regulations, but it felt quite daring to try this perfume, and the name 'd'Interdits' certainly fosters the impression that this is risqué stuff!  Absolument Absinthe is a briskly herbal / green scent and was a surprise hit with my friend, who had only been testing the odd thing along the way.  She also quite liked Absolument Homme, which had a marked tobacco note.

Having exhausted our noses' capacity - and pausing for a moment on the way out to admire the humungous Amouage factice bottles in the window display! - we spent the rest of the morning poking around the many independent shops in Sidmouth, which offer some pretty decent gifts and souvenirs, as well as seaside clothing brands like Seasalt and Fat Face.

And there was one more bonus scent experience to come, as the smell of freshly made fudge lured us into Roley's Fudge Parlour!  We both ended up sampling and buying some...the lemon meringue variety, studded with fizzing white bits infused with 'natural lemon oil from the Mediterranean', as the owner took pains to point out, was an absolute taste sensation.  If I needed another reason (and I don't) to return to Sidmouth with its sleepy, sedate charm, the lemon meringue fudge was right up there with Ladurée's best macarons, and a shade cheaper at £1.70 for 100g...

Ooh look, I see they do online sales too...;)

The Scent Crimes Series: No 13 - Suggestive storage in bathroom showrooms

A few redeeming points for colour coordination

I am in between work projects at the moment, so as is my wont in such circumstances, I thought I would conjure up a domestic project instead, to wit refurbishing my bathroom. For I have a scratched cast iron bath that is 104 years old at a conservative guess, an extinct model of lavatory that had the local plumbers merchant poring over their catalogue of 'archived designs' to locate a compatible loo seat, plus the bathroom is painted an aggressive shade of peppermint topped off with a mood-disturbing ceiling of bottle green.

Since formally embarking on the research phase associated with all my renovation projects, I have learnt all manner of new arcane vocabulary pertaining to sanitary fixtures and fittings. Would you believe there are such things as 'comfort height close coupled slow close WCs', as well as the disconcerting 'wall hung' variety?  Then there are 'flat bottom bottle traps', 'pop up wastes', 'slipper baths', 'offset quadrant showers', 'sail panels', and my personal favourite, 'rigid risers with concealed elbow'.

In addition to studying styles and materials on the Internet, I have been visiting a number of bathroom showrooms (five so far!), because I am compelled to subject all potential bathtub contenders in my price range to the Bonkers 'knock' test, ensuring that even the near ubiquitous acrylic models are sufficiently reinforced so as not to sound cheap and flimsy.  I have also been - quite unselfconsciously! - lying in quite a few baths, in order to figure out the optimum height for reading and drinking wine while having a good long soak.  (This is all predicated on a new boiler, I should perhaps mention, for the benefit of readers to whom I have historically bemoaned my erratic hot water output and associated poor reading rate.)  The ledge of the bath must also be able to accommodate a wine glass.  So many things to consider - I tell you, baths are not unlike beds on the comfort front.

They may be empty (and partly J-Lo) but there's a principle at stake!

And in the course of my research - both in showrooms and flicking through brochures - I have been shocked and concerned to see legions of perfume bottles posing in bathroom cabinets, perched on the shelves of vanity units, and sitting pretty on the corner of baths - they are simply everywhere!  Admittedly some of the bottles were empty, but even if 'no actual perfume was harmed' in the staging of these product shots / room sets, it is sending out completely the wrong message to the public.  Anyone would think this is precisely where you should keep your perfume bottles, but of course we know better...

Niches of steamy doom

A few redeeming points for this bottle of Angel being in its box

It is over four years since I wrote my opening post in the Scent Crimes series about the evils of bathroom storage.  I am sorry to report that it has only had 110 page views in all that time, so in terms of the task of convincing the public at large to keep their fragrances in their boxes in a cool dark - and dry - place, I fear our perfume community has still got it 'all to do', as they say...

Brochure behaving badly

Another brochure - a few redeeming points for having a sliding door

It just remains to wish everyone a Happy Easter weekend - I am off to Sidmouth again for a few days, and will be back next week with any fragrant observations from my trip, plus a review of Vero Kern's Rozy edp!