A Bonkers Grand Tour: My Serendipitous Sniff-In With Zsolt Zólyomi, Hungary’s Only Perfumer – Part 1

The Roja Dove Of Central Europe

Towards the end of the Bonkers Grand Tour – so called because it took in eight countries in under three weeks – I found myself in Budapest on a Monday with no appointments. Thinking this might be my one and only visit to the city, I decided to spend the day sightseeing. After four hours of pounding the tree-lined boulevards and clambering up and down the hill to the famous castle district, I was making my way back to my hotel, decidedly weary and footsore by this stage. Having recently enjoyed two days of dedicated perfume sniffing in Dresden and Vienna, perfume was not on my mind that day as I strolled through the pedestrian precinct behind the riverfront.

Suddenly, however, I spied an upmarket clothes store with what appeared to be a niche perfume boutique at one end, called Le Parfum Croisette.

“Oh, okay then”, I thought to myself. “I’ll just stick my head in quickly and see if they have anything I don’t know...”

As I stepped inside, I immediately spotted the Dutch Puredistance range of perfumes facing the doorway, and flashed a grin of recognition at the proprietor, who was sitting in front of the display on a bar stool. Perhaps sensing that I was no ordinary punter, he invited me to take a seat on the other stool, and we ended up chatting for the best part of an hour and a half.

And if I was no ordinary punter, the owner of Le Parfum Croisette was most definitely no ordinary owner of a perfume store. For he turned out to be none other than Hungary’s one and only perfumer, Zsolt Zólyomi. Is there a particular term for that – “solinose”, perhaps? I was lucky to catch him in the store in fact, for he has so many other scent-related projects; indeed the boutique itself is as much a showcase designed to raise public awareness of niche fragrances as it is a sales outlet - if not more so.

In the course of our chat, Zsolt gave me a quick rundown of the history of fragrance in his country, which has its roots as far back as the 14th century. For Hungary contributed the first alcohol-based perfume ever made – L’Eau de La Reine de Hongrie – an astringent cologne containing rosemary oil, which was said to have rejuvenating properties. Whether frequent dousing in her eponymous water had anything to do with it or not, Queen Elisabeth certainly lived to a ripe old age.

Then during the Communist era in the 20th century the fragrance industry in Hungary was suppressed as an elitist indulgence, and it is only now that people in Central and Eastern Europe are starting to discover fine fragrances and embrace the concept of luxury goods generally. However, Zsolt feels he has his work cut out in promoting the cause of niche perfume lines, for Hungarian people’s tastes have not evolved very far: women typically favour accessible scents – either quite sweet perfumes or fresh florals such as D & G Light Blue. They are easily swayed by advertising and tend to follow the crowd and whatever brands are “in” at the time. So not unlike everywhere else, then...!

Fired up with missionary zeal to revive Hungary's perfume traditions, Zsolt is deploying every means possible to further the cause of high end fragrance everywhere “east of Prague”, seeing himself very much as an ambassador for perfume. He plans to launch a Perfumery School for students from the CEE countries, and open the first Hungarian Perfume Museum.

Some day he would also like to create a brand of perfume that captures the essence of Hungarian culture. This may not be it, but he also fancies creating a scent with a burnt smell. "Aha", I said: "That sounds a bit like Christopher Brosius of CB I hate perfume and his Burning Leaves". Now I am not sure quite what style of burnt matter Zsolt has in mind, but he is clear that it must not smell like a particular type of Hungarian cheese which also boasts a burnt aroma, thanks to the way it is matured I think (I am afraid I can't remember the specifics!).

But meanwhile, as Hungary’s only perfumer, Zsolt already has an awful lot on his plate...

His fragrance consultancy service is wide-ranging: he creates commercial perfumes for brand owners (Rajul and Nubia, a mixable His & Hers range commissioned by Emeshel, a US "lifestyle brand" with Hungarian roots. The perfumes complement its existing line of high end jewellery, crystal and sculptures.) Zsolt also creates custom scents for private clients (including the wife of actor Roger Moore), and for use in corporate gifts (eg candles). Additionally Zsolt produces scented events aka "olfactive animations" - “from weddings to fashion shows, from theatre acts to product launches and parties, where I choose or create the best ambiance fragrance matching the event".

Another type of service is the tongue twisting “interactive olfactive animation”, where Zsolt might give a talk, and involve the audience through scented games or quizzes, or a spot of fragrance consulting or a mini-demonstration of the art of perfumery.

In addition to his roles as pundit, educator, marketeer and all-round scent evangelist, Zsolt is the author of a book on perfume: Le Parfum 2000. It was in Hungarian, but on flicking through I was reminded of Roja Dove's later work, The Essence of Perfume, with its general overview of the subject, historical approach, and illustrations of scent bottles and adverts down the ages.

I was also keen to hear the origins of Zólyomi’s love of fragrance. It turns out that he was fascinated by smells from an early age, and a year spent in Libya aged 10 fuelled his interest further. Rajul for men is inspired by the coastline of Zsolt's adopted childhood home, and blends the tangy scents of grapefruit and sea salt in a whimsically suggestive bottle.

Zsolt trained as a plant biologist originally, and later studied at the ISIPCA in Paris, the school for postgraduate studies in perfume, cosmetics and food flavouring. He qualified in 2005 and set up Le Parfum Croisette in 2009. I clocked the following ranges, with a full listing available on the store's website: Puredistance, Frapin, L’Artisan Parfumeur, Annick Goutal, Atelier Cologne, The Different Company, Juliet Has A Gun, Etro, Penhaligon’s, Reminiscence, Odin and India brand Sahlini (of which more anon).



Part 2 will cover what we actually sniffed, but there is one final amusing tale to report...

One of Zsolt's "olfactive animation" projects involved creating an ambient fragrance for the Kogart museum in Budapest. "If you are quick and walk as fast as me, you'll be there in 15 minutes", Zsolt said brightly, so after I left him I hotfooted it up the museum, only to find two buildings bearing that name, both of which had just shut.

Outside the first building a female member of staff was standing on the doorstep, possibly waiting for a lift home. In vain did I try to explain that - as per my original intention with Le Parfum Croisette itself - I just wanted to stick my head inside the door, in this case to sniff the air and satisfy my curiosity about Zsolt's ambient "scent installation". The girl spoke no English, so in the end I nipped past her and stuck my head inside the open door anyway, ostensibly to illustrate my point! The foyer didn't smell of anything.

So I headed on to the other building called Kogart, which was more or less next door. Its restaurant at least was open, and there were a couple of security guards loitering in the empty eaterie. They spoke some English and knew all about Zsolt's museum fragrance. "It's expensive stuff!" one guard remarked, "but it isn't used here in the restaurant, and the rest of the building is shut now, sorry."

Ah well, that was too bad, but my serendipitous encounter with Zsolt was more than enough excitement for the afternoon. Another reason to go back to Budapest some day... By which time, Zsolt may have come up with his own quintessential Scent of Hungary. If so, it will be 100% his own creation, and will not have been focus grouped beyond all recognition. For somewhere in our chat I mentioned in passing what I do for a living, to which came Zsolt's laughing reply: "Ha! I don't do market research."

I like him all the more for it.


Photo of Eau de la Reine de Hongrie Water label from perfumeprojects.com, photo of Rajul and Nubia perfume range from popsop.com, photo of Libyan coastline from africanews.com, other photos my own

A Bonkers Grand Tour: Dresden Sniffathon - And An Internet Bombshell…

Say the name Dresden and most British people will instantly think of World War 2, when, regrettably, we bombed it to smithereens. Ah, you may say, but that’s how it goes in wars, and after all the Germans bombed Coventry. That is true, but having now clapped eyes on the architectural treasures that have been lovingly restored in Dresden since 1945, I get the distinct impression that Dresden had considerably more to lose... So anyway, during this, my first visit to the city, the war was never far from my mind, not least because a popular theme on picture postcards is “before” and “after” shots of the jewel in the crown, the Frauenkirche.

On Saturday, another boiling hot late summer’s day – though not such a humdinger on the heat front as the day I went sniffing with Olfactoria in Vienna – I had a chance to sightsee and to investigate any good perfumeries the city had to offer.

To this end, I texted mybeautyblog.de, a blogging pal from Lüneburg, and immediately received a tip – Königsparfümerie Dommaschk, in Neumarkt 9 - a premium location right opposite the Frauenkirche, as it turned out.

I decided to work up to what was clearly Dresden’s equivalent of Le Parfum in Vienna, and started with a bit of low key browsing in two branches of Douglas and in Karstadt. The Douglas assistants in one branch were all in a huddle, chatting amongst themselves, and I had to prise one apart to inquire whether they had either Prada Candy yet or Acqua di Parma Gelsomino Nobile, another current love – no, was the answer, and the assistant had clearly never heard of them.

So I contented myself with a test spray of Balenciaga Paris L'Essence: the juice was a muted grey-green colour in a box to match. Instead of the cranial bottle top, Paris L'Essence has a satisfyingly heavy metallic sphere.

Also, rather than being a concentrated version of original Paris, as the name might suggest, I found Paris L'Essence to be a watery, sheer green scent – very pleasant and easy to wear, and quite different in style to its powdery, musky sister scent. The little I can find on this fragrance suggests that it is built around the violet leaf note, and that figures. A shrinking violet leaf note if you ask me, which is of course absolutely fine in my book!

I also tried Heidi Klum Shine, just because I like to dip into the German version of America’s Next Top Model, which she hosts. The series has taught me a lot of useful German vocabulary to do with the modelling industry, such as “Photoshooting”, “Casting”, “Makeup” and “Makeover”. The pleasing bottle – reminiscent of Idylle and Tommy Hilfiger Loud with the addition of a chunky square top – sadly belied its contents. It smelt like a run of the mill insipid musky fruity floral scent with a rather tart opening, which doesn't appear to have been grapefruit judging from the note list below, but it wouldn't surprise me to learn that the Coty dream team had slipped some in there.

Top notes: mandarin, pear, pink pepper
Heart: mimosa, lily of the valley, sunflower
Base: vanilla, tonka, musk

Be that as it may, if the über-cool Seal cares to smell Shine on his wife, he will plummet in my estimation, losing much of his own lustre in the process.

Next up was Karstadt, where I agonized long and hard as to whether to buy one of the Korres scents for the bargain price of 14.50 euros. Unfortunately, they only had testers of a couple of them. I couldn’t remember my impressions clearly enough from my sampling of these in Ingolstadt, and ended up being paralysed with indecision and unable to make a purchase. So I wandered over to the main fixtures, where I was soon approached by the very personable male sales assistant, to whom I instantly warmed.

He professed to not having heard of Prada Candy either, but unlike the Douglas assistant, proceeded to quiz me about it and seemed genuinely curious to hear more. I told him not to be put off by the sweetie shop name, and alerted him to the novel cap with integrated atomiser.

Herr O (to give him not quite his full name) invited me to smell Chanel No 19 Poudré, which was a great suggestion, as I hadn’t managed to catch up with this one yet. I thought it was a much softer, more approachable version of the original, which I find too severe and full-on. Nor is the powder level excessive, and I would happily wear this year round. Sadly, my very helpful sales assistant didn’t have a sample, but I know he would have given me one if he had.

I asked him what his favourite scents were – his collection runs to some 30 bottles, so he is clearly a serious fragrance lover too – and he named (if I heard him correctly) Impérial Millésime by Creed, a line that Karstadt doesn’t stock. Herr O's candour endeared him to me even more. He then took me over to the men’s aisle to sniff his favourite male fragrance that the store did carry: La Martina Hombre. I had never heard of this brand, but it turns out to be an Argentinian make of polo gear – funnily enough, I spotted a man at the Dresden Hauptbahnhof today wearing a polo shirt with a discreet La Martina logo.

Top notes: lemon, basil, mandarin and bergamot
Heart notes: thyme, cardamom, cloves and pepper
Base notes: cedar, musk, patchouli and vetiver

La Martina Hombre was a softly spicy woody scent – a touch more masculine than Kenzo Power, say, but less so than Marc Jacobs Bang. I could almost see this working as a unisex scent. And it did smell classy, and nothing like the ubiquitous Bleu de Chanel “tonic sport” genre that I find so tedious.

Herr O also tipped me off about the new JPG male fragrance launched in France this week – Kokorico (with notes of fig leaves, raw cocoa, patchouli, cedar and vetiver). I told him meanwhile about the stampede in Britain to buy Lidl Suddenly Madame Glamour on account of its uncanny resemblance to Coco Mademoiselle. And while I didn’t have Herr O down as a regular Lidl shopper, he was intrigued by this story and said he would look out for it. And then we exchanged the warm goodbyes of two people who share a passionate interest in scent – Herr O managed simultaneously to shake my hand and pat me on the arm, which I took as a sign that he had enjoyed our chat.

So yes, never let it be said that all sales assistants in mainstream fragrance retailers are without a wide knowledge or keen interest in the subject: our very own nickgblue is one such – or was until he landed his plum job at Les Senteurs – and Herr O is another for sure.

So now I was all fired up and ready for my visit to Königsparfümerie Dommaschk. It had a superb range of scents – though not necessarily every scent in each line - including Byredo, By Kilian (all the “by”s!), So Oud, Clive Christian, Montale, The Different Company, Memo, Amouage, Floris, Penhaligon’s, Keiko Mecheri, Isabey, Ulrich Lang NYC, Nasomatto, Creed, Annick Goutal, Miller Harris, Les Parfums de Rosine, Acqua di Biella, Carthusia, Profumo di Firenze, Maître Parfumeur et Gantier, Histoires de Parfums, Hermès, Esteban, Serge Lutens, Frapin, Morgane Le Fay and Bond No 9. And some other brands I have forgotten. And some designer lines, including….drum roll…Prada Candy.

I quickly struck up conversation with the helpful and very beautiful blonde sales assistant. (She was wearing a little black dress and a double string of pearls, even though it was lunchtime and knocking on for 30C, but black shift dresses are standard uniform for those representing niche brands, I guess.) The SA told me that Candy had just come in that morning and I immediately sprayed some on a prime wrist site. Just as nice as I remembered from my first trial.

Next up, I tried a couple of By Kilians and Byredos: the Back to Black tester was empty, unfortunately, as I had not tried that one, so I retested Love and Tears which I had originally smelt with Qwendy in LA – she had been smitten by it as I recall, and Birgit is also a fan, I know. It is a huge, gorgeous, perfumey white floral – a bit heavy for the weather but I was not sorry to accidentally spray my finger tips as I was aiming for the card.

I also tried some Keiko Mecheris, a line which has signally failed to woo me up to now. The ones I tested (Mulholland, Tarifa, Les Nuits d’Izu and Taormine – half on skin, half on card) were interesting, but didn’t really grab me or have me resniffing the spot repeatedly the way Candy or No 19 Poudré did. The other scent that did truly catch my attention and which was the standout highlight of the day’s sniffing was Byredo La Tulipe. I had been keen to try this one ever since reading anotherperfumeblog’s glowing review – I believe she plans to wear this at her wedding shortly, which is recommendation indeed.

Notes: rhubarb, cyclamen, freesia, tulip accord, blond woods, vetiver and musk

This is very much a polite, feminine scent in the style I love. A friend of another blogger whose name escapes me described it as a “summer dress in a bottle” and it is just that. I do get the lilac a number of reviewers speak of, but it is offset by the fresh, dewy green notes that really do evoke a tulip, no small feat. It has a soft, pretty musky trail and it was love at first sniff. Robin of Now Smell This finds it a bit bland, but as I have said before, blandness is in the eye – or rather, the nose - of the beholder, and its gentle, tender quality is pitched just right for me. I also appear to be a sucker for rhubarb, loving its treatment in The Different Company Bergamote and Ulrich Lang Anvers 2.

NB Tulip painting is by my friend David, whose work I have already mentioned in my review of Carner D600. I am always nagging him to paint more of them, but they don't pose for as long as other flowers, apparently, so they are not his favourite subjects.

I was amused to spot the cologne called Gravel, which was suggested as a hypothetical signature scent for Don Draper of Mad Men by Memoryofscent, in her comment on another recent post by anotherperfumeblog. It has actual gravel in the bottom of the bottle – well, the white and yellowy-orange chips are in fact more like the stuff you find in goldfish tanks than anything you would chuck on your drive. I had a quick sniff on card and it was dour and manly, just like Don.

I also tried the Morgane Le Fay range, which seemed to be colour coded but not to have any individual names as far as I could tell. The blue was too galbanum-y for my liking, the pink a tuberose and ylang-ylang monster, and the yellow more my thing, though like the Keiko Mecheris, it didn’t really stand out.

Along the way I had a whiff of Carbone de Balmain on card, which Dee of Beauty on the Outside recently bought blind, and I remember her being pleased with her purchase. It was a spicy, woody, ambery number – a bit fierce for my liking (is there some gravel in there, by any chance?!), but might work for me in winter, or the drydown, say.

I also had a test on skin of Poiray Sceau de Coeur, which I had never heard of, and which came in a curious bottle whose top was made out of two-tone interlocking heart shapes. It was a bit of a Rubix cube job to get it open, to be honest, and the scent itself was some kind of praliney gourmand number – if I am not mistaken, praline seems to be the new oud. I’d give it another whirl if I ever came across it again. From my subsequent reading I have learnt that Poiray is a Parisian jewellery brand and the interlocking hearts also feature in a commemorative ring the company designed to celebrate its own history.

Now at some point in all my testing, I had asked the SA if I could take a couple of photos of the interior of the store. I explained that I was a blogger and that I liked to document the top perfume outlets in the various cities I visit on my travels. She referred me to the manager, who recoiled at the mention of the word “blog”, which in her mind was synonymous with “Internet”, which in turn was synonymous with “being ripped off by punters”. By “ripped off”, I mean that she is aware that some visitors to the store just use it as a repository of testers of niche scents, but then go off and buy the scents they like online from sites such as Aus Liebe zum Duft.

I understand her irritation, and tried to allay her concerns by saying that I simply wished to showcase her store - put it on the map, as it were - so that any fumeheads visiting Dresden would know that it had a great selection of high end brands. And while some people may cynically target her store with the clear intention of purchasing elsewhere, others who fall in love with a perfume there may prefer to buy it on the spot from the sales assistant who introduced them to the scent.

So yes, while I believe the proprietor is partly right about consumers exploiting the bricks and mortar presence of her store – possibly even as a direct result of reading my blog post - I can't help thinking that that simply isn’t the sort of thing you say... The most likely effect of telling a would-be customer that time wasters are a pain in the butt is to make them feel unwelcome. I pointed out that I didn’t have an online shop, and that my motives in wishing to feature the store were entirely honourable. In the end I was allowed to take a few pictures, but the atmosphere remained a little frosty.

So, I went to Dresden, and – obeying the famous injunction by John Cleese in Fawlty Towers - was careful not to mention the war. But as for price wars on the Internet...why, I didn’t see that one coming!



Photo of Balenciaga Paris L'Essence from theperfumegirl.com, photo of Heidi Klum Shine and Chanel No 19 Poudré from Google images, photo of Karstadt from Wikipedia, photo of La Martina Hombre and Poiray Sceau de Coeur from Fragrantica, other photos my own.

A Bonkers Grand Tour: Travels TO Olfactoria And A Viennese Sniffing Whirl

Regular readers of Bonkers may get the impression that I am perfectly self-contained on my business trips, and don’t really need company. It is true that I am rarely lonely, but that doesn’t mean I am not very glad to meet people on my travels, especially likeminded fellow perfumistas. Indeed I positively light up - head permitting! - when I have a blind sniffing date with a virtual friend from the blogosphere, and so it proved yesterday when I travelled to Olfactoria, of Olfactoria's Travels.

We agreed to meet at 1.30pm at a tube station right by the cathedral in the city centre. I arrived ten minutes early, and dived into a branch of the perfumery Marionnaud to kill a few minutes in the welcome air conditioned interior (it was in the mid 30s C that day). Olfactoria (aka Birgit!) was not far behind me and texted to say she was in position at our agreed meeting point of the Graben exit. I recognised her instantly from her avatar. Even in the extreme heat, Olfactoria was every inch the poised, pale-skinned beauty she appears in her photo.

Throughout our sniffathon, I felt very welcome and “gut aufgehoben” in Olfactoria’s company – an expressive German phrase that loosely translates as “well looked after”. Oh by the way, we slipped into English from the off, only dipping into German occasionally in the various stores. This is because Olfactoria’s English knocks my German into a cocked hat, even though – as I learnt to my astonishment – she has never lived in an English-speaking country. Nor does she appear to have an English parent tucked away anywhere, though I did inquire. : - ) My German is “fit for purpose”, but that purpose is always in a resolutely business context. Why, I am at a bit of a loss when it comes to articulating my thoughts about perfumes in English, never mind in German!

First stop on our sniffing tour was Le Parfum, Vienna’s equivalent of Les Senteurs. It probably stocks more niche brands than its London counterpart, thinking about it. Olfactoria encouraged me to try the By Kilian oud range (Incense Oud, Rose Oud, Pure Oud), and I was pleasantly surprised by all three, not being a lover of the note as a rule. I caught up with the relatively new releases Parfumerie Générale Praliné de Santal and Tonkamande – the former reminded me of Womanity or that Thierry Mugler Miroir scent that has a popcorn note – Miroir des Envies, that’s it – while the latter smelt like furniture polish on the blotter. Olfactoria explained that Tonkamande is a lot better on skin, but I wasn’t prepared to spare any more at that point, having already wasted a spot on our popcorn friend. We agreed that Praliné de Santal was rather like SL Jeux de Peau, which I had tried with ScentScelf in Chicago and not liked either. Don’t get me wrong – I can happily scoff a 150g bag of Butterkist in one sitting as well as the next man, but I just don’t want to smell OF the stuff.

Now we did both spray PG Indochine on skin – or more exactly, my forearm was caught in crossfire when Olfactoria was applying it on her own - but I was perfectly fine with a spot of collateral sillage! It was a gourmand woody oriental on her, and disappeared rather quickly on me, sadly, but was interesting while it lasted – softly spicy and slightly foody.

Speaking of gourmands, Olfactoria introduced me to Lira, her favourite of the Casamorati 1888 range from Xerjoff (the ones in those ghastly plastic bottles). Lira was a rich, creamy gourmand – like Teo Cabanel Alahine but more so. It was rather too rich and sickly initially for my taste, but I liked its later stages.

We also dabbled in the Armani Privés (to wit, Ambre Orient), Mark Buxton (English Breakfast - or at least the orange juice starter), and the Huitième Art range, which I had systematically tested in Düsseldorf in April, and was happy to revisit. But, as the Germans would say, "das absolute Highlight" for me in Le Parfum has to be Nuda from Il Profumo, a “cold cream” skin scent – like a more refined version of Clinique Simply crossed with a de-floraled Dior New Look 1947, if that makes any sense at all to anyone.

Whilst looking in vain for a note listing, I have since read Marina’s review on PST, in which she likens this scent to “that special place on a small child's neck, right under the plump little chin- the sweetest place to smell and to kiss”, and I would totally agree with this. Apparently, though, Nuda is meant to evoke the scent of a woman in the throes of ecstasy, which is clearly complete tosh.

A short stroll from Le Parfum is Pure Day Spa, which stocks beauty products and scents as well as offering spa treatments. The four main brands stocked are Frédéric Malle, Floris, Lalique and Annick Goutal. I was pretty up to speed with FM, but had a sniff of French Lover on card and retested Le Parfum de Thérèse. French Lover was too butch for me and Le Parfum de Thérèse by no means as civetty as I remembered, but still not really my style. Olfactoria, however, seemed to be having a bit of an epiphany with it and would gladly have taken away a sample to test at leisure, but they only had Lipstick Rose left. I can well imagine why, haha...

The languidly beautiful sales assistant then suggested a few Annick Goutals for us to try, including Songes (the jasmine indole-fest I remembered) and Duel, which was new to me. Duel was a woody citrus number, featuring notes of “Green Maté absolute, Paraguay petitgrain, iris root, absinth, gaiac wood, leather and musk”. I thought I really liked it at the time, but later changed my mind - on balance, I felt it was just too masculine. We also had a sniff of original Lalique by Lalique on card, which was an unashamed white floral of some kind – quite pleasant, but not as intriguing as Flora Bella.

After Pure Day Spa, we decided a pitstop was in order, and repaired to a favourite ice cream parlour of Olfactoria’s. At this stage in proceedings it was time for the mutual tipping out of perfumes on the table, as you do, including gift samples for each other. I felt totally spoilt by Olfactoria's goody bag for me: there were countless decants and samples, including a whopping one of Guerlain Cologne du 68 and…drum roll…Elie Saab! For Olfactoria had just that morning taken receipt of a big bottle, and found time to siphon off a full 30 ml before she left the house to meet me. Well, I didn’t know where to put myself….

I recounted to Olfactoria the story of how, just two days previously, I had had another go at scoring an Elie Saab sample in yet another branch of Müller, this time in Switzerland. The sales assistant had denied stocking it, only for me to find it immediately, at the other end of the fixture. I called her over and she picked up the tester bottle with a squeal of surprise, before proceeding to spray it copiously all over her décolleté and general head area, for all the world as though it were a can of Ellnett hairspray. “Oh fein, fein!” ("Oh nice, nice!" or possibly "Oh classy, classy!" - it's rather a multi-purpose word) she exclaimed, now thoroughly impregnated with the stuff herself, though this didn’t advance my sample gathering cause one jot. And as it turned out, she didn’t have any samples. The Ingolstadt branches must have got the sample allocation for the entire Müller chain...

After a good deal of highly unsystematic rummaging and sampling, we set about the business of eating our ice creams before they melted. Just then, Olfactoria spotted a local celebrity sitting a couple of tables away, tucking into a sundae of some kind. She looked like an aging Brigitte Bardot, and Olfactoria drew my attention to her “extensive hair”. We speculated as to whether her equally “extensive lips” might have had “work” done…

Having refuelled and cooled down a bit, we headed on to Duft und Kultur, the final stop on our sniffing tour, which was in fact only a couple of doors down. This was an Aladdin’s cave of a store, selling a vast selection of ethnic clothing and arts and crafts alongside perfume, room fragrances, soaps etc. It stocked L’Artisan Parfumeur, Diptyque and Les Parfums de Nicolai, along with some - arguably less common - brands such as Eau d’Italie, Teo Cabanel, Comptoir Sud Pacifique and Miller & Bertaux. Olfactoria was keen for me to try Jardin du Poète, which I sprayed on my upper arm, though not upper enough as it turned out, for it got mixed up with the remnants of Lira. I sprayed Eau d'Italie by Eau d’Italie on the other arm around the same latitude, and thought I liked it better initially. I don’t know if it was the power of suggestion, but Olfactoria’s prediction that a weird note would emerge and spoil the composition of Eau d’Italie came true, and as I resniffed the spot later that day, I no longer cared for it, though I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me.

Before we knew it our three hours were up and it was time for Olfactoria to go back and relieve the babysitter. We walked to the tube station together and parted company at the top of the stairs to my line. Back in my hotel room, the whole afternoon might have felt like a dream were it not for the Ormonde Jayne box bursting with samples (not OJ samples, in case anyone is wondering), a huge bag of Gummibears courtesy of Olfactoria’s boys(!), and some parcels that I promised to mail for her from a less robdog country than Austria – which we believe will be pretty much anywhere I happen to be passing through...

Yes, I enjoyed myself so much that I went back today and visited everywhere again. : - ) Only very briefly, mind: to retry Nuda and Indochine in Le Parfum, AG Duel in Pure Day Spa, and most importantly to pick up a favourite pen that I had left behind in Duft und Kultur, where it turned out that I had left a bottle of apple juice as well. “We haven’t had a slug out of it, honest!” the proprietor assured me. On my way out, I had a quick spritz of CSP Vanille Abricot, remembering that Katie Puckrik selected it for one of her TV chat show appearances – I think as a general “yummy come hither” scent, but I could be wrong. Anyway, it is certainly yummy – I walked out of the store smelling like one of those dainty Viennese pastries you could find at any of the smart cafes in the city. A fitting way to end my happy travels to Olfactoria.



PS Mindful of confusion in a previous post over the meaning of "Jammy Dodgers", it might be helpful to mention that Viennese Whirls are also a variety of biscuit / cookie! An oblique reference to the waltz may also be inferred... : - )



All photos my own

A Bonkers Grand Tour: Birmingham Airport - Chanel Les Exclusifs, Prada Candy & Narciso Rodriguez For Her In Color

Given my posting hiatus last week, it occurred to me that Bonkers is in danger of grinding to a complete halt if I neither manage to blog while I am away nor when I am at home in between my trips. So I thought I would have a go at writing at least one post this week - which is less hectic overall than the next fortnight in terms of the number of interviews, if not the amount of driving involved!

Three days (and three countries) in, I am struck by the fact that an extraordinary number of things seem to have gone right, contrary to the norm. For starters, Birmingham airport’s duty free shop has mushroomed beyond recognition since my last visit, and the fragrance section is well on its way to rivalling Harrods’ perfume hall. Okay, I may be exaggerating slightly, but...get this...the Chanel counter now carries Les Exclusifs – the only UK airport to do so, apparently. I clapped eyes for the first time on the new, more humane 75ml bottles. These were at “better than high street” prices, according to the sales assistant, by which I presume she means the prices in the Chanel boutiques, as you won’t find Les Exclusifs on any high street near me. There’s a clue in the name, in fact. Now as it happens I am not in the market for even the 75ml size of my favourites from this range, but for anyone who is, and who might be passing through Birmingham airport, that could be good to know.

I was pleasantly surprised to see a couple of Miller Harrises in the “New” fixture: Figue Amère and Fleur Oriental. Yes I know, those scents have been around for a while, but they will surely be new as far as the airport is concerned! I spotted my lemming du jour, Elie Saab, and then my eye lit on the new Prada Candy. What between the sweetie shop name and the rather twee packaging, which reminded me of that gimmicky range from Benefit with the silly girls’ names, I very nearly walked on by. However, it just so happened that I had seen Candy listed on a split site recently, so I figured it must have something about it, and so it proved.

I have since caught up with Robin’s review of Prada Candy on Now Smell This: she liked it more than she expected to, and her description chimes with my fuzzier reading of the scent. I found it sweet, but not too sweet – a gourmand woody oriental with a hefty dollop of benzoin apparently, though it isn’t all that obvious to my nose.

My initial impression is of a scent in similar vein to Kenzo Amour Indian Holi (which is a sweetish, powdery, peppery floral with darker undertones from the woods and incense in the base). However, the vanilla is more pronounced in Prada Candy, and segues into a caramel accord in the drydown. Yes, cross Indian Holi with Ava Luxe Love’s True Bluish Light in a two thirds one third ratio and you might get something in the right ball park. Or there again maybe not(!), but I would sum this up as an edible yet edgy scent…

Although my nose kept nuzzling the spot where I had sprayed Candy, I also tried Narciso Rodriguez for Her In Color on skin for the second time:

Notes: rose, peach, amber, musk, sandalwood and patchouli

It struck me once again as a deeper version of pink NR for her, NR for her given a sort of Stella spin if you will, as in the original Stella McCartney. Still powdery and super musky, but with a pronounced rosy-amber thing going on. Does the world need yet another Narciso flanker any more than it does another Stella flanker, most of them just a slightly nuanced variation on their predecessor, in a different coloured bottle, or the same coloured bottle with squiggly flowers climbing up it? I think not.

I also tried Lalique Encre Noir on skin because it is such an out and out cult classic, but sadly, it just smelt of ink on me, and rightly or wrongly I couldn’t get images of squid out of my mind.

Then I had a snifter of Guerlain Jasminora (straight up, knock ‘em dead jasmine), and Bouquet Numéro 2 (a watery and rather indeterminate floral scent I couldn’t quite put my finger on, which turns out to have only litchi, rose and iris in it. What's with the "litchi"? I take it that is a more botanically correct word for "lychee"...)

So I have set myself the challenge of acquiring a sample of Prada Candy by hook or by crook on this trip. I failed dismally to secure another Elie Saab sample this morning (the cheek of me for even trying, given my existing stockpile!), but that story belongs in the next perfume "bit"...


Photo of Chanel Les Exclusifs range from thedollonfashion.blogspot.com, photo of Guerlain and Chanel counters from moodiereport.com, photo of Prada Candy from gizmodiva.com, photo of Narciso For Her In Color from fragrantica.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AJNE BLOOM DE NUIT

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

XERJOFF OESEL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

A Midsummer Bonkers Road Trip: The Perfume Bit – Ingolstadt And Operation Elie Saab Le Parfum

In my last post I made reference to my German friend Claudia, singling her out for special mention as the lone purveyor of authentic croissants in an ocean of stodgy Teutonic travesties. During my recent trip I spent a very enjoyable weekend at her house in a village near Ingolstadt (best known as the world HQ of Audi cars). Claudia takes the phrase “hostess with the mostest” to a whole new level, indeed the entire family rallied round to make me feel welcome.

For instance, her elder daughter vacated her bedroom for me, where I was greeted by the sight of not one, but four packets of Haribo Gummibears on my pillow. On the bedside table stood miniature bottles of red and sparkling wine, plus one of mineral water (presumably to pre-empt hangovers).

Meanwhile, my friend’s younger daughter had baked some chocolate cupcakes, the icing on which was still wet and glistening as I arrived, while Claudia’s husband put at my disposal a full suite of travel management and business centre services, including questionnaire and map printing. Not forgetting his impressively nimble valet parking of my hire car!

Additionally, it seemed that the whole family had been squirrelling away perfume samples from shops in anticipation of my visit. Claudia presented me with a Douglas bag full of carded samples, including one of that elusive new love of mine, Elie Saab Le Parfum - to which more would be added presently... : - ) There was also a sample of Kenzo Flower Essentielle, which was not previously on my radar, and which warrants a review of its own in due course. So all in all I was very touched at the thoughtfulness and high level of coordination that had gone into the preparations for my stay.

Claudia’s tremendous hospitality also extended beyond the home: on Sunday she took me on a walking tour of Ingolstadt, the highlights of which were the gothic cathedral, the city walls punctuated by turrety gatehouses, and the ghoulishly fascinating museum of medical history, featuring such oddball exhibits (quite literally) as a collection of glass eyes.

And on the Saturday we hit the perfume shops in both the centre of Ingolstadt and an out of town shopping mall. We covered two branches of the “drugstore plus” Müller (more of a cross between a drugstore and a low end department store), and one of the perfumery chain Douglas. My sampling was particularly haphazard on this occasion for some reason – I did test a number of the Korres perfume line, which you don’t often see - well, not in Britain anyway. Korres packs pretty much the entire formulation of its perfumes into their decidedly unsnappy titles: I think the ones I tried were Paeonia Vanilla Amber Pear, Vanilla Freesia Lychee, and White Tea Bergamot Freesia. I remember all three as pleasant but unremarkable.

Then some bizarre impulse made me reach for testers of scents in a fixture clearly aimed at a younger audience: first I tried Katy Perry Purr (unexpectedly grapefruity! – could that have been the “forbidden apple” listed in the notes, “forbidden” perhaps precisely because it is in fact a grapefruit?). Next up was John Galliano Parlez-Moi d’Amour. In the case of the latter, my eye was drawn to the cute bottle, that looks like an airmail letter with a stamp on it (the wrong side, by the looks of that picture!). It turned out to be a sweetish floral woody musk scent – not bad, and crucially, not grapefruity. I also sampled Tommy Hilfiger Loud for Women, as featured in the recent BBC documentary, “Perfume”. It was another rose patch-lite number - a bit watery, but a decent option for that demographic, which also holds true for the Galliano.

Prompted by a review over on Boisdejasmin, I also gave Ange ou Démon Le Secret a go (another phantom grapefruit composition – I am guessing that here my brain could be misreading the tea and cranberry notes?). Now you are going to say that I have really got a downer on grapefruit – whether real or a figment of my nasal reception - but I would just like to say that I am not the only one. For Claudia’s younger daughter made the mistake of spraying herself liberally in DKNY Woman before I could intercept her and explain that that is the citrus fruit equivalent of a nuclear holocaust. She ruefully agreed with me after the event, whereupon I judged it an appropriate moment to explain the concept of the “scrubber”. If anyone reading this happens to know a snappy German term for this, I would be glad to know it!

The highlight of the whole expedition was without question the continued garnering of Elie Saab Le Parfum samples. Elie Saab is not yet in mainstream distribution over here, but there was a huge publicity splash about it in Germany. Now you will recall that Claudia had already scored one sample for me in advance of my visit, then I managed to acquire another in the first branch of Müller we visited. In the second branch of Muller I thought I would try to pull the same stunt and the sales assistant pulled out three samples from her drawer! She was apparently new, bless her. The cynical and parsimonious rot will doubtless set in presently!

Then I dived behind the Clarins fixture for a moment while Claudia went up to this generous SA who bestowed a sample on her too – just the one, as she perhaps had been insufficiently effusive compared to me. Anyway, Claudia promptly passed this latest sample on to me, like a shoplifter stealing to order. Well, I must say I felt a little guilty to have ended up with six of the things. I would consider buying a bottle at some point, but not at German retail prices, oh dear me, no.

To show my gratitude to the cosmos, I doused myself in Elie Saab for several days straight, and can add a few more thoughts to my initial impressions here. The opening was as bright and radiant as I remembered – it is like a whoosh of Jo Malone orange blossom mixed in with a rosy, smooth skin scent. I am also reminded of various facets of Love Chloe, Stella Nude and Dior 1947 New Look, in particular the latter – there is a definite cold cream-and-slinky-satin-teddy vibe going on here. And there is also….now, please don’t be alarmed by this…a very slight synthetic quality, at the beginning at least. I was so pleased to read that Angela of Now Smell This also gets this radiant quality – to be honest I wouldn’t have had Elie Saab down as her thing!

So all in all Operation Elie Saab went like military clockwork to coin a phrase, as did Operation Breakfast on the family’s part on Sunday morning. When I finally ambled downstairs at gone 11am, I was blown away by the elaborate and varied breakfast buffet that awaited me. As I say, I was torn between the cupcakes and the croissants. It was option anxiety, or as they say over there, with a nice touch of assonance: “Die Qual der Wahl”.

Much like the world of perfume, indeed…. Though if I had to wear Elie Saab Le Parfum for a month straight, it wouldn't be a huge hardship… : - )



Photo of John Galliano perfume from fragrantica.com, still photo of "Grapefruit's revenge" from hark.com, other photos my own.