Serge Lutens Part Two

If the perfume as product were the end goal, it would be of no interest to me. When perfume is not a vehicle for the things that I hold dear to my heart, to my heart and soul, then it might as well be a salad dressing (especially since I do not even eat any!). 

(from an interview with Serge Lutens at Kafkaesque) 

In yesterday's blog I introduced Serge Lutens, and briefly explored woody and oriental perfumes. So, as promised, today's post will explore the florals, incense-related perfumes and some of Luten's more eccentric offerings...

Florals

In aromatherapy, floral absolutes or essences are sometimes referred to as 'euphorics', i.e. uplifting, encouraging a happier, or even transcendent state of mind. As it happens, my sister practices aromatherapy as part of her work as a therapist, so there have always been essential oils around for me to test and try.

There's nothing quite like natural vetiver with its smoky green earthiness to relax frayed nerves - it would be my first choice as a bath oil if I had a scary situation to face the next day. Florals have an entirely different impact though, it's true that rose absolute has a soothing, balancing quality, though uplifting at the same time, in contrast jasmine absolute's full animalic sensuality can be both uplifting and aphrodisiac, or confidence-boosting in effect. It's rarely given its full-on animalic personality in contemporary perfumery mind you, and there's quite a difference between Sambac and Grandiflora jasmine.

For example, if you try perfume classics such as Patou's Joy you might be aware of a urinal scent (most likely Grandiflora), then on the other hand Dior's Diorama veers more towards fecal (Sambac). In contemporary perfume though, these animalic aspects are often isolated, tempered with other notes or removed altogether to focus on jasmine's greener 'prettier' qualities.

One of the most renowned jasmine perfumes among perfume lovers is Luten's A la Nuit. While I know that this contains a blend of at least three jasmine absolutes, I'm only guessing that it's most likely Sambac jasmine, since it doesn't have the urinal aspect of Grandiflora (which I'm personally not keen on).

To describe Sambac as 'fecal' is not as alarming in perfumery as some might imagine. It really depends on its companions, and in A la Nuit, Sheldrake (Luten's in-house perfumer) has blended jasmine with grenadine (fruity), clove, benzoin (cosy/warm wood resin) and a clean musk (some musks are simply there to add longevity and have an almost soapy scent).

On first spray it's quite intense, with a camphorous, ripe banana fruitiness that feels quite powerful and almost reminds me of acetone, but within ten minutes it settles into a heady, uplifting authentic jasmine blossom effect that reminds me of the scent of jasmine bushes in the evening, somewhere warm, probably not the UK!

It's almost simplistic in its pure jasminey-ness, so it's not one of those abstract super-elegant French style perfumes which lend an aura of refinement. A la Nuit's effect is more like a blast of pure, unadulterated summer. It's definitely uplifting, if you like jasmine (one perfume reviewer described it as 'death by jasmine').

In this sense it's a classic Lutens floral - with a 3D personality, very authentic. Whatever your thoughts on jasmine, there's no doubting the quality.

Others prefer Luten's more abstract, arguably more refined take on jasmine - Sarrassins - it's a far more complex perfume with aspects of leather, developing into a more abstract, gentle floral blend into its heart notes.

Luten's Fleurs d'Oranger is an equally characterful take on orange blossom, though tuberose and jasmine play supporting roles.

Orange blossom absolute is mildly animalic, slightly milky in feel, very rounded and with a subdued soapy orange citric scent.



It's often confused with neroli which is also part of the orange tree flower but neroli is a distillation rather than an extraction (making it more citric in feel, hence its popularity in summer eau de cologne).

The addition of tuberose and jasmine pads out orange blossom here for a far more floral effect - in fact more like actual orange-blossom flowers before extraction (extraction processes don't usually retain the character of the real flower, which requires skill and blending by the perfumer). Tuberose in particular always has a 'fleshy' 3D oily/waxy petal effect (when it's strong, as it is in Piguet's Fracas, it reminds me slightly of petrol). In Fleurs d'Oranger there's also a fairly subtle note of cumin. Some find it quite distinct, but to me it just adds a subtle, spicy edge to what might otherwise be a typically pretty floral perfume. There's also nutmeg, citruses and hibiscus, but in general the effect is a floral statement so orange-blossom-esque that you can almost imagine it leaves a visible trail of sunny yellow behind you! It's definitely pretty, and very feminine, but not delicate, or indeed too 'clean, although into dry-down it becomes more mellow.

When it comes to roses, Lutens offers a choice between the classic powerfully lemony-fresh tea rose of Sa Majeste la Rose, the softly earthy beeswaxy Rose de Nuit and the velvety opulent La Fille de Berlin

Wearing La Fille de Berlin feels like cloaking yourself in deep crimson velvet, I find it somehow medieval in feel, like a damask-draped bed chamber

It's a rich fruity rose, with touches of violet and freshly crushed pepper, and a lingering note in the long dry down that reminds me of sweet wood ash - the powdery white remains of a wood fire, which all adds to the idea of an Elizabethan lady's chamber.

To quote Luten's text which accompanied its launch in 2013; A flower grown under the ruins, cut off from the world, it appears before your eyes; to all of us to open our eyes. I'm not sure whether Luten's story or the concepts behind La Fille de Berlin - the spirit of female survival in a war-torn city - influence how the scent is perceived, but I do think this is one of the most beautiful rose scents I've experienced. Perhaps it says something about the survival of love amidst cruelty - roses are romantic symbols after all, but the spicy pepper and nostalgic violet steer this away from innocent, pretty ideas of love and say more about roses aflame!

Other Lutens florals of note are Tubereuse Criminelle in which Lutens heavily enhances tuberose's menthol/camphorous heady aspects before the perfume settles into a classic fleshy tuberose with spicy hints, Nuit de Cellophane - a burst of soapy, heady, peachy florals which is perhaps more conventional in feel than his other florals and Un Lys - Luten's version of lily. Lily (and also lily of the valley) is a synthetic note in perfumery since it's very difficult to extract enough absolute or distillate from real lilies, so perfumer's interpretations vary quite widely. Lily of the valley tends to smell quite soapy (not least because the synthetic has been used so often in soap and cleaning products!) whereas lily tends to be slightly creamier/spicier in feel. I quite enjoy lily perfumes (read my previous post on lily perfumes Here if you like) and don't find this Lutens version to be among my favourites Again, it's slightly conventional - clean and pretty.

Photograph, Serge Lutens

Oddities

Being the experimental artist that he is (Lutens was a famous photographer for Vogue in the 80s, also a dancer) Lutens can't be expected to remain within the realms of perfumery convention!




Even when they're not particularly palatable to me, I love the fact that Serge Luten's perfumes experiment with the unsettling, even ugly aspects and effects of perfume.

I mentioned l'Orpheline in part one of this Lutens blog, and I really can't think of a better description than that offered by a commenter on another website: 'malfunctioning android accord' - genius! It has a weird woody musk, combined with a strange electrified incense which does recall faulty electrics. With this perfume Lutens wanted to say something about detachment, reaching for intimacy but being denied. I seem to remember text which mentioned his childhood, and its lasting legacy; being halfway to the moon. Very poignant. If this is Luten's take on childhood abandonment, I'd like to offer him a warm blanket and a mug of cocoa if I ever get to meet him, though no doubt he'd shun such facile comforts!

Bas de Soie -  meaning 'silk stockings' - a strange floral woody perfume with overtones of hyacinth redolent of bathroom air fresheners, lent an extremely odd sulphuric quality which reminds me of the eggy aroma that remains on a plate that's seen scrambled eggs. I'm very mildly allergic to egg, so it might just be me that gets egg, rather than silk stockings, from Bas de Soie

Fille en Aiguilles - (Daughter of needles) Begins with the scent of unlit incense then grows increasingly cosy, until it's as if you're wearing the powdery ash of natural pinewood.

La Vierge De Fer - inspired by Joan of Arc, this is a shining metallic incense/lily evoking Joan of Arc on the battlefield in her shining armour with lily representing the purity of her faith, and incense her religion, or possibly...the pyre? To quote Luten's accompanying text;  She will give birth to our most beautiful monsters. That is how, a little rusty by dint of doubts, my steps have rejoined La vierge de fer (the Iron Maiden); that lily amongst the thorns.

Iris Silver Mist is Lutens in poetic Goth mode, since iris (or orris root as it's called in perfumery) is ultra-enhanced here and its earthy/inky/starch aroma is perceived as somewhat sad, nostalgic or even funereal for some, but for others almost comfortingly rooty - it reminds me of roast parsnips and carrot juice - natural and earthy, I don't find it haunting as some people do.

 

Last but not least, Lutens range also extends to 'comfort or gourmand scents' - perfumes which relax and soothe the nerves or, if they're 'gourmand' give a comforting feeling, reminding us of being in the kitchen or feeling nourished. A few of the best known being Chergui -a tobacco/hay accord which feels cosy and slightly traditional, like a fedora-wearing 1950s dad, and Jeux de Peau a blend of sunny apricot, wheat and milk combined to wholesome effect, Five O'clock Gigembre - warming gingerbread, and Rahat Loukoume - Turkish Delight with almond/cherry aroma.

I've left out many, many other perfumes, and as mentioned this is intended more as a whistle-stop tour of Lutens most well-known perfumes. If you're intrigued though, and want to explore further, many other bloggers have written about or interviewed Serge Lutens. I recommend the following...

http://perfumeshrine.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/serge-lutens-interview-regarding-santal.html

http://boisdejasmin.com/2009/01/serge-lutens-in-1.html

http://www.fragrantica.com/news/Interview-With-Serge-Lutens-4277.html

Serge Lutens

 It is the memory, forgiveness and like this, what we have today, it was able to survive: From the dust. It is not only in the feminine but it also has no plural. It is the wake of my life, that which remains when all has disappeared. It is the invisible which, veil after veil, there where it is forgotten, fades into grey.

If you're struggling to make sense of that quote, don't worry - you're not obtuse, it's just Serge Lutens in characteristically obscure French form, describing the inspiration of his latest perfume creation - L'Orpheline.

Where others might reject a difficult past, or allow it to dominate life to their detriment, Lutens has made inner conflict his creative life's work; he seems to embrace every facet of loss or abandonment, expressing his ideas with dark poetic imagery inspired by his childhood years, which were scarred by war and the loss of his mother at an early age. He claims himself that many of his 70 (and growing) perfume creations are a sort of ode to this personal narrative. Each perfume is launched with a short story, or semi poetic prose, which unearths yet another layer of his conflicted psyche.

'Unearths' is a deliberate choice of word since there's something slightly dark about Lutens with his swept back hair, pale visage and preference for dark velvet lounge jackets - if he auditioned for the part of Dracula he'd pass with flying colours. On the other hand, people have described him with adjectives such as 'endearing', 'vulnerable' and 'sensitive' - he's even referred to by perfume bloggers and industry insiders as 'Uncle Serge'!

Where some may find his semi abstract, intense outpourings pretentious or obscure, others feel that this adds to the mystique of his perfumes. Still others might feel that all this intensity sits strangely with a luxury item such as perfume - surely intended as one of life's simple pleasures.

Whatever your perception, if you're interested in perfume, you're probably interested in Serge Lutens, because many of his perfumes are truly lovely, some ground-breaking, others uncomfortable, or surprising - they range from rich velvety orientals and charmingly strident florals, to thin, screechy or metallic offerings, one of which - L'Orpheline (The orphan) I've heard a blogger describe as 'malfunctioning android accord'.

I haven't tried all of his perfumes, and I'm just an appreciator, not an expert so all I can offer is an introduction for those who've not explored these perfumes - a whistle-stop tour, and my impressions which I hope will be of interest to those who have explored Serge Lutens perfumes.

It's not Lutens himself who composes the perfumes, but rather the perfume creator Christopher Sheldrake. Lutens is more artistic director of the process, and it's true to say that Sheldrake's perfumes are quite different 'animals' outside of the Lutens influence.

With around 45 perfumes to choose from (those I'm familiar with from testing, sampling or owning), I've decided to create a two part blog and I've separated perfumes into loose categories - 'floral' 'woody' and so on. So without further ado, let me begin with the most loved..
(Part 2, florals and oddities, can be viewed Here)

Woody

Feminite du Bois

Lutens and Sheldrake became famous with this woody/fruity perfume, which was unusual for the fact that its dominant note was cedar - not usually associated with female perfumes - hence the name; 'the femininity of wood'.
This was first launched in the 90s for Japanese company Shiseido, then re-lanched as part of Lutens new perfume company based in Paris, around 2009.

I've already devoted an article to it, which you can read here
But to briefly describe Feminite du Bois, the keywords I'd use are grounded, autumnal and natural. It's not a cocktail hour/swish dress sort of perfume -  its nutty, rich, plummy/spiciness seems more ideally suited to an Autumn walk snuggled up in wool. It's a sensual perfume (cinnamon, plum and cedar combined are slightly 'sweaty' in effect) which is why, though I'd describe it as having a sort of natural elegance, it wouldn't be my choice for very formal events, but that all depends on style and personal choice.

Such was its popularity that the central note of cedar was enhanced to varying effect in several perfumes with wood or 'bois' accords, such as Bois de Violette, Bois et Fruits, Bois et Musc and Bois Oriental. The titles are self evident, but of this group Feminite du Bois and Bois de Violette would seem to be the most popular. My personal favourite is Bois et Fruits which focuses on a slightly warmer, softer spicy/woody/fruity accord - arguably easier to wear since Feminite du Bois has an almost wood workshop intensity (think of the scent of newly sharpened pencils and the scent when you first uncork a bottle of Shiraz).

Other woody accord perfumes by Lutens/Sheldrake are Chene (Oak) and Cedre. Chene's woodiness is tempered with an accord of sweet, spicy rum - perhaps more cosy though also (arguably) more masculine, Cedre's woodiness is considerably altered with tuberose, more of an oriental (warm/spicy/amber) floral with background woody notes.

Oriental
Luten's orientals express a variety of ideas of the Middle and Far East, sometimes the 'real thing' - a literal olfactory translation of a Moroccan bazaar with the pungent scent of spices, leather and dates, for example, or romantic translations of the Middle or Far East - a Westerner's imaginary take on the exotic. He also lives part of his time in Morocco, so it follows that immersion in Moroccan culture would lead to inspiration.

Where some perfumers toy with the idea of exotic spices, Lutens is characteristically full on. These perfumes do more than hint at Middle Eastern perfumery, they often ladle on actual, literal everyday scents of the Middle and Far East in a style that some find heavy, and others beautifully authentic. Lutens orientals would rarely be described as delicate

Perhaps the most known or infamous example is the humorously named Muscs Koublai Khan - the title of which immediately evokes ideas of warrior horsemen traversing the windswept plains of Mongolia, as does the perfume.
Transport yourself back to the Middle Ages in Mongolia, imagine the scent of someone who's traveled for many weeks on horseback, the scent of leather, spices, the sweat of tired horse and tired self - and there you have Muscs Koublai Khan - a love or hate sort of perfume, for obvious reasons!

The oft used term 'animalic' describes perfumes which have facets of urine, sweat, faeces or earthy notes inspired by soil for example (originally perfumes literally contained animalic notes, extracted from, for example the civet cat or musk deer, until animal rights concerns ensured these were banned).

Nowadays these notes are synthetic, partly they exist because they add longevity to perfume. For some, such notes are sexy, for others they have the opposite effect sought from perfume - whether or not you like MKK will depend very much on whether you like to feel elegantly refreshed by perfume, or to have your inner animal enhanced.

Speaking personally, I mostly get horse-sweat from this perfume, and the underlying authentic rose absolute lends an almost soapy quality, as rose in perfume often does. Similar to the equally 'barnyard' L'Air de Rien by Miller Harris, I find this oddly comforting, but not necessarily easy to wear. (I worked in horse stables as a girl so the scent of hay makes me feel nostalgic).

In contrast, there's the cosy, slightly sticky sweetness of Santal Majuscule; definitely one of my favourite Lutens. The listed note include rose, sandalwood and cacao, but I also get something a bit similar to maple syrup - a sort of balsamic smoky sweetness that's balanced by a milky/sour/nutty sandalwood and opulent rose. (By opulent I mean that this particular rose is more a damask, velvety rose, than a lemony tea rose).

It's a wonderful perfume for frayed nerves, and it's a crowd-pleaser - very relaxing, grounding and just pretty enough to be a good unisex perfume.

Other Lutens orientals include Arabie - a richly fruity, spiced sweet-date scent, which definitely conjures up Middle Eastern market places - it's a lovely scent, authentic and rich, but personally I'd associate it more with room fragrance than skin perfume.

Cuir Mauresque- leather imbued with the scent of spices, strikes me as ahead of its time (it was created in the mid 90s). Leather perfumes have become more popular as have spicy perfumes, notably Dior have quite recently created an exclusive (i.e. expensive, difficult to find) range a few of which explore this theme.

Others of note - El Attarine (a sticky honey/spicy scent) and Fumerie Turque probably worn more by men since it smells of spiced tobacco, a lovely scent, but not all women would want to smell like this.

I have a lovely cigarette case embossed with butterflies in which I keep a few self-rolled cigarettes with liquorice paper for when I'm going out (I know, it's a shocking habit) and sometimes I store whole spices in it, it's quite a nostalgic scent, very different from manufactured cigarettes.

Ambre Sultan is Lutens take on amber, all perfume houses have a take on amber (usually wood resins, sweetened with vanilla).  Amber perfume oil has been available in Indian shops for as long as I can remember, it's characterised by a woody warm, tingly scent that conjures up the gemstone itself - golden tawny in feel. Lutens take on amber is balanced by herbal or balsamic notes, less sweet, more unisex in feel - it's another of Lutens most popular perfumes, satisfying for those who feel disappointed with somewhat prettified amber scents such as Balmain's Ambre Gris

In tomorrow's post I'll explore Lutens extraordinary 3-D florals, some are breathtakingly lovely, using several floral absolutes, others are just, well, breathtaking! I'll also describe some of the more unusual offerings, such as the aforementioned L'Orpheline, also Fille en Aguilles and La Vierge de Fer.

Lastly apologies for the recent absence (I haven't posted here for over a month!) this is largely due to the Scottish Referendum which practically eclipsed all other activities - but it's good to have my nose back in perfume bottles again.

Here's Lutens in casual-attire, relaxing in Morocco...

Lily Perfumes

A sea of lilies in the film of C.S. Lewis's Voyage of the Dawn Treader

At this time of year lily perfumes seem to blossom in the warmer weather, becoming creamier in tone, yet they can have an appealing green/peppery note too.

A common misconception around lily is that it's similar to lily of the valley (muguet), but though often combined these two are quite different florals.

One thing they do have in common, in perfumery at least, is that both are created in a lab through 'headspace' technology, or the process of chemically analysing the air above a flower. Famously, Edmond Roudnitska was the first to analyse the notes of lily of the valley in his exuberant spring floral Diorissimo.

Apparently both lily and lily of the valley don't yield enough perfume in extract to enable a commercially viable absolute or distillate (those with knowledge of chemistry could elaborate on why). You'd probably have to sacrifice acres of lily to yield a small amount of extract But as with all the best perfumes, aroma chemicals or synthetics add to the complexity, radiance and longevity of perfume.

To me, lily has a more 'sunny' feel, more sensual, waxy, usually slightly sweeter and in some interpretations there's something similar to vegetation about to 'turn' - a note of decay. Just think about a vase of madonna or stargazer lilies and you know what I mean. They also have what many perfumers have called a 'briny' or 'meaty' note. Lilies in their unfurling stage though, have green, peppery qualities - a smell you might associate with a high-end florists; crisp, fern-like and slightly spicy (I always think ferns in nature smell peppery).

Although lilies have sunny qualities, they also have funereal associations because of the fact they're used to adorn wreaths and coffins, which in turn means that they have spiritual  associations and therefore, for some, they represent purity.

Lily of the valley, in contrast, is brighter, cleaner, and in nature is far less heady than the lily with its more exuberant and waxy tones.

Lily in perfume varies quite widely and it can often become an abstract idea in the hands of a perfumer. Probably your favourite style will depend on associations and the aspects of lily that you enjoy (the following is by no means a comprehensive list, but they represent a few popular, iconic or interesting takes on lily)...

Crisp, spicy lilies

Baiser Vole by Cartier
Composed by perfumer Mathilde Laurent for Cartier, the brief for Baiser Vole was to create a popular, yet unique perfume to appeal to mainstream buyers. Laurent has composed some very high-end perfumes, so although Cartier wanted a crowd pleaser it seems they sought high quality too.


I must confess that when deciding to buy this I was partly seduced by the bottle (inspired by the design of Cartier's flip-top silver lighter). I'm impressed that this perfume is affordable (in sizes of 5ml miniature also 15, 30, 50 and 100mls to suit your budget) yet combines this availability with a bottle that's sheer pleasure to behold and use. But enough of my havering about design and cost! What's the actual perfume like?

Essentially Baiser Vole is a green floral and has a peppery tang that's reminiscent of that catch-in-the-throat spicy greenness of freshly opened lily and it does in fact remind me of a florist's too

I first tried it at a perfume and poetry event held in a palm house in Edinburgh's Botanic Garden . There was a particular aroma that tantalized my nose, and when I investigated the perfumes on display I discovered it was Baiser Vole. When I bought it later, I was prepared to find my perception of peppery greenness and airy lily was affected by the scent of greenhouse from the Botanics event, but it was green and peppery exactly as remembered! The opening notes feel rather clean, but settle quite quickly.

Laurent has created a beautiful and, I think, unique accord of airy lily, pepper, green notes and the tiniest hint of vanilla. Elena Vosnaki at Perfume Shrine describes it as 'meringue' like and that's about right.

Elegant, slightly quirky and contemporary,  it also makes me think of Scandinavian houses and experimental salads! Great quality in every way.


Anais Anais by Cacharel
An icon of lily perfumes, popular to this day though it was first introduced in the 70s.

As an arty teenager I gravitated toward the more unusual or enigmatic perfumes. But in recent years I've taken the occasional sniff of Anais Anais when in perfume departments and was surprised at the rush of nostalgia! It's a beautifully composed perfume with main notes of lily, hyacinth, lily of the valley, with a complex floral accord, a tiny touch of leather and oakmoss.

Anais Anais is now very affordable and widely available as it's still a best seller

Un Lys by Serge Lutens
This appears to have a touch of lily of the valley or lilac alongside lily and musk, lending it a slightly crisp tone, or perhaps fresh is more accurate. Again a green floral, yet quite soft in feel. Very popular amongst lily fans for its authentic lily feel, this is however a more 'clean' take on lily - transparent and, though lasting, delicate in feel.

Lys Mediterranee by Frederic Malle
This is on the cusp of 'crisp', especially in top notes, but it quickly develops on skin into a very creamy (not buttery!) textured lily. It feels elegant, thanks in part to its tingling aspect of ginger - again this is a lily paired with a spicy note to enhance lily's naturally peppery factor.


But perfumer Edouard Flechier has added an unusual marine note - a salty quality that's extremely subtle but lends this glowing white perfume an airy quality, like lily scent on a breeze

Sunny lilies

Gold by Donna Karan
This is unusual for its golden and warm amber notes alongside lily, which for me creates an odd juxtaposition of grounded and ethereal at the same time. At other times I associate it with a tropical or beachy feel - a creamy or even oily texture that recalls sun tan lotion.


It conjures up a sun-tanned relaxed feel - warm skin and soap. I bought it during my lily quest, but gifted it to my sister who suits this golden style far more than I do (she has abundant reddish gold hair!).

Excellent value and usually findable on Ebay

Lys Soleia by Guerlain
Reviewed in my previous post on summer florals - the appropriately named Lys Soleia is perfect for carefree summer parties - a perfume that seems to let its hair down, it has a fun loving feel to it, yet it's beautifully composed. Where Karan's Gold feels creamy and sun tan-oil-like, Lys Soleia is 'buttery'. I don't mean rancid butter mind you, more a sort of cream cake feel, and this is combined with one of my favourite citrus notes, Amalfi Lemon, a proper juicy Mediteranean lemon. There's a very subtle astringent green note, probably palm leaf (listed in ingredients) and a dry down of slightly gourmand buttery vanilla/lily

One of the sunniest takes on lily in perfumery; it always seems to be smiling, like a slightly ditzy 'it' girl at an exotic beach party who never seems to touch down to earth. Not really 'me' again, but it is pretty!


Unusual lilies

La Vierge De Fer
'The iron maiden'! Refering not to the heavy rock band but rather Luten's vision of 

Joan of Arc - faith, courage and purity in shining armour. I love the fact that Lutens seeks more than a  'pretty' or 'sexy' crowd pleaser, but is it wearable?

It does have a metallic note (listed in its ingredients) but it's hard to tell how that translates without testing. There are some metallic notes in perfumery I find repugnant, but thankfully this is more about a luminous quality - the sun glinting on armour, than a taste of iron from the battlefield itself! It reminds me faintly of frankincense resin

La Vierge de Fer is mostly about the idea of a light glowing lily, and in that sense this is recognisably a very lily scent - waxy, fresh and in this version slightly cool and light, no butter, suntan oil or cream in the sunny or tropical lily sense, it's definitely not grounded in the senses. So in a way it's polite, elegant even, but the idea is of an ethereal transience. Although snowdrops have no scent, this seems to suggest the fragility and tenacity of these wild flowers. Very poetic

Passage d'Enfer by L'Artisan 
I reviewed this in an earlier post about perfumer Olivia Giacobetti (scroll down to review) but in brief this is the idea of lily and incense. Despite the name this feels light and summery, the incense is, again, frankincense-like in feel, but it's also woody, reminding me of sun-warmed antique furniture. In a sense it has something in common with Chanel's No 22 (white floral/incense) but Passage d'Enfer is more relaxed and soft, less spiritual in tone perhaps

The lily here adds a subtle, fresh and airy counterpoint to wood and incense.

Lys Fume by Tom Ford
A quick mention of Lys Fume as it's not strictly speaking a classic lily. There's quite an amalgam of notes in

this - lots of spice, nutmeg and ylang. Many people have mentioned notes of plastic and bubblegum and though that sounds a bit nasty it's actually a likeable effect. I associate those notes with some aspects of jasmine and ylang. Like all Tom Ford perfumes this feels designed to be noticed - a big night out lily!

And lastly on a similar trajectory of BIG lilies, Le Labo's Lys 41 combines tuberose with lily, and to be honest, since I'm a bit tuberose-sensitive, this cancels out the lily for me! But if the thought of one of Georgia O'Keefe's enormous flowers leaping from the canvas into real life and filling the room with ferociously floral fumes appeals (I quite like the idea of that in principal) this is for you!

Geisha Green by Aroma M ~ Chinoiserie!

I have a thing about Chinoiserie - a European take on all things oriental, somewhat exuberant in style and meaning 'Chinese-esque' in French

And I've always loved Chinese ink drawings, or Japanese prints by artists such as Hiroshige and Utamaro.



This theme of nature, expressed with highly stylised delicacy, seems to be carried into Japanese incense, and one of my favourite brands, Kousaido, make an incense called Ume, which has a lovely powdery floral delicacy.



In my last post I described the citrus/floral sherbet-like powder of Cuir Fetiche, and how that in turn reminded me of a discontinued soap by Crabtree and Evelyn called Coppelia.


The powdery quality I seek (more talcum powder than face-powder) is elusive, because there are certainly many powdery perfumes out there, but very few I like.Thus does perfume lead us into a labyrinth of wish and discovery! Sometimes it's frustrating, but most of the time I find it life enhancing.

While Cuir Fetiche is powdery, it's also an animalic perfume - sensual rather than porcelain-doll pretty in its powderyness, so I was delighted with the recent discovery of Aroma M's Geisha Green (launched in 2010).

This has the kind of powder I love - delicate, citric and sherbet-like.

It ties all these loose threads together for me conceptually; the beautiful mannequin - Coppelia - in the ballet of that name, a porcelain, powdery, oriental with hints of green that makes me want to wear a pale green silk dress with chinoiserie-style blossoms, crimson lip stain and elegantly coiffed hair. It's a high maintenance sort of aesthetic, and not one I'd aspire to on a daily basis! But when the occasion calls for a polished feel, Geisha Green is perfect.

It's described as unisex (as many niche perfumes are) and it's interesting to see the power of words and persuasion in marketing at work here - many describe Geisha Green as masculine, and I see no reason why men shouldn't wear it - I'd never in a million years discourage either gender from ignoring marketing nonsense about the gender of smells!

But I'm here to tell you, Geisha Green is powdery, it's 'perfumey'! It has no traditionally 'male' notes such as strong woods or powerful aromatic herbs.
It is green though and has a most unusual liquorice-like note of absinthe (the 'green fairy' traditionally sought by angsty artists such as Gaughin and Van Gogh).

I begin to see associations of wild imps, elves and forest dwelling nyads or dryyads of mythology, not necessarily good fairies, none of your Disney Tinkerbell!

It also has a very subtle, slightly plastic note, and this is why the perfume as a whole reminds me of chinoiserie - it's a witty take on the idea of oriental style; green, powdery, recalling the orientalism explored by the Post Impressionists, echoing the doll-like make-up of Geishas.

This perfume was created by Maria McElroy, founder and owner of Aroma M, who lives in the US. Maria McElroy was inspired by Japanese culture having lived there for several years where she studied Kodo, the ancient art of fragrance, Ikebana, Japanese flower arrangement, Koto, Japanese harp, Shiatsu massage and Zen Buddhism.

McElroy's perfumes use a high quantity of natural ingredients and are very balanced in feel. There's an abstract quality, plus a defined and distinctive tone to each perfume that's often lacking from smaller niche brands, especially those who use naturals, which can end up becoming a gloopy, muddy mess in the wrong hands.

The opening is more unisex, with distinctive green notes that have an aromatic feel, then within minutes this morphs into a strange green-lit damply powdery violet with aserbic/sweet hints of blackcurrant and mandarin, warmed in its deeper notes with amber and tonka bean.




It's strange, slightly unreal and oddly delicate although the sillage is robust.

And into my mind tumble images of green-glazed porcelain, geisha women, chinoiserie wall paper, evil fairies, Gaughin lost in a Tahitian green-lit forest...it's imaginative and good fun, it brings out the child in me and I just want to dress up - bring on the Edinburgh Festival and summer parties!

Iris Perfumes

Illustration by Arthur Rackham

Iris is probably one of the most fascinating perfume ingredients; variously described as mysterious, perfumey, starchy, rooty, chalky, mineral, metallic, scenty, nostalgic, elegant, classy, bread-like, funereal,  and any other number of descriptors. It's quite incredible that a simple floral root (orris as it's called by perfumers) can conjure so many moods and aspects.

Visiting a Chanel boutique one day, which had a desk containing basic perfume ingredients in little bottles, I was able to smell iris  in absolute.

Without additional factors to enhance its qualities, it does smell chalky and starchy - almost like sliced raw parsnip or potato; quite difficult to describe - the rooty, dusty/mineral perfumed scent of parsnip is somewhat similar.

For the last century, it's been an important note in high-end perfumes, lending the distinct 'perfumey' quality so difficult to describe. I'd also compare this scentiness to clean cat fur - a sort of subtle haze, though I hasten to add there's nothing cat-pee about it! Orris extract used to be one of the most expensive perfumery ingredients, but recent developments in extraction methods have made it more affordable

Almost all of the best Chanel perfumes feature distinct note of orris - Chanel No.19, Cuir de Russie and 31 Rue Cambon to name a few

But there are quite a few perfumes which feature orris almost as a solo note subtly enhanced with other notes, and if, like me, you love iris, you'll enjoy testing and comparing these different versions.

Iris isn't an obviously seductive scent, at least not in the sense of hot and spicy, or creamy, sweet and gourmand. But it does have its own seductive appeal in the sense of elegance, mystery and a sort of coolness. It's perhaps most suited to moody, rainy afternoons, twilight and autumn evenings - something about its evocative earthy coolness lends itself to these times and seasons

Until I'd sniffed it in absolute and compared the way it's handled in perfumes which prominently feature orris, I wasn't able to easily identify it, since it's not a note like, say, lemon, or woods, which you encounter in everyday life.

I haven't tested iris perfumes comprehensively, but the following perfumes do cover quite a few of the most interesting, popular or respected in this group...

Hiris, by Hermes
Composed by the talented perfumer Olivia Giacobetti, Hiris opens with cool, elegant, slightly crisp notes and a touch of citrus. Its elegant scentiness is immediately apparent but at this stage it can feel a little too cool and haughty. The powdery make-up compact note also feels quite distinct at first, and some may be put off by the initial vintage or classic feel.

If so, then give it a chance to develop because after half an hour on skin it develops beautifully, with subtly warm, woody/nutty notes, chiffon-veiled in a lightly metallic/mineral iris.

It does change personality somewhat - from fur-coated and slightly posh, to natural - dressed in simple raw silk. It's a bit like Diptyque does iris (if you've tried Diptyque perfumes you know what I mean - contemporary, easy to wear, simple in feel). I detect a note similar to nutmeg, and in this sense it has something in common with the dry-down of Giacobetti's Passage d'Enfer by L'Artisan.

A light, yet contemporary perfume which, though a little 'clean' and proper in feel, is nonetheless the perfect perfume if you wish to smell 'together'. It would probably make a good impression for formal or work-related meetings.



28 La Pausa by Les Exclusifs de Chanel
This mysteriously complex scent is a veritable Catherine Deneuve of a perfume - elegant yet animal! It reminds me of rain-drenched trench coats and city streets.

If it was a film I'd imagine it starring Deneuve and featuring an erotic affair with a handsome author or journalist caught up in political scandal.


There's something about 28 La Pausa that lends it a touch of adrenaline - in a good way; a hint of anticipation, nothing like the 'safe' feel of Hiris. I think this is quite a seductive perfume, for certain moods. It's harder edged than Hiris, with more projection and perhaps a slightly androgynous aura.

It's also serious, elegantly minimal and it might scare off the intellectually challenged, you probably wouldn't attract a macho footballer in this (no offense to football fans!). It reminds me of the scent of someone arriving indoors after being in the rain, a touch of ozone, verging on salty, then as they shake out wet hair, scent emanates into the room

This was by 'nose' Jacques Polge for Chanel, which was a surprise to me as I'm not usually a fan of his perfumes (Chance, Coco Mademoiselle, Allure).  28 La Pausa is an outstanding perfume, enhancing (rather than clothing) iris with subtle musk, leather, florals and distinct vetiver in drydown.

Iris Poudre by Frederic Malle
Powdery with a capital 'P', this lavishly powdered iris is by talented nose Pierre Bourdon, who was responsible (alongside Christopher Sheldrake) for the iconic Feminite du Bois. Also Kouros and French Lover.

I love FdB and quite enjoy the sweaty/soapy skank of Kouros for men (though it's inextricably related to the 80s for me, the female equivalent I suppose being Coco Chanel).


So I was somewhat surprised by this abundance of cleanliness and talcum powder - reminiscent of a long bathing session followed by a thorough dusting with large, fluffy blue satin-ribboned powder puff before reclining on a chaise longue in silk robe and indulging in a crystal bowl of strawberry bob bons, coated in pink vanilla icing sugar.

If that sounds like a pleasant way to spend your afternoon, then this is for you! I find it distinctly sexless (you'd never find me wearing pink fluffy mules around the house). In a sense it reminds me of Malle's Lipstick Rose - it could be experienced as old fashioned, or wittily retro. Either way, my style doesn't match up with this tweedy-handed yet undeniably clever and evocative perfume. Iris has powdery elements, in as much as iris/orris was often used to scent face powder and talcum powder, so it's very much about association and in the appropriately named Iris Poudre this aspect is enhanced. Into dry down it loses some of its flounce by becoming a little more woody. On clothes it retains its powderiness to eternity, and beyond.

Strangely, it also reminds me of a posh Edinburgh lady from Morningside (Morningside is where 'sex' is what the coal arrives in - sacks - it's the accent!). Behind closed doors those ladies probably did, or do, indulge in elaborate powdery rituals before their banker husbands return from the office!
Notes: Tonka bean, vanilla, vetiver, sandalwood, musk, iris

Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens
As mentioned, orris is a rhizome, so its perfume has rooty qualities, and where Iris Poudre enhances iris's powdery associations, Iris Silver Mist is all about earth and the vegetal aspects of iris.

It's no doubt this earthy/mineral and rooty quality of iris that leads many to experience it as funereal or sad. But while I find iris quite nostalgic, 'sad' and 'funereal' associations don't enter my mind.

Instead I find Iris Silver Mist grounded, delicious, like roast parsnips, with the sweetness of carrot juice. I absolutely love carrot juice, and I seem to detect carrot seed in this perfume. Or perhaps the rooty aspect of orris simply smells carrot-like.

I like the idea of a savoury gourmand; this perfume makes me feel quite peckish - I feel like roasting root vegetables in the oven! The elegant, mysterious air conjured up by many iris perfumes is present in Iris Silver Mist but less refined, more earthy in feel. What I do notice is that, of all the iris perfumes I've tried, this smells the most alike to the pure orris extract I smelled in the Chanel boutique. It feels authentic, and since Lutens always aims to include high quality naturals in his compositions it comes as no surprise to hear the story of its making. Lutens apparently wanted the iris mood heightened, so perfumer Maurice Roucelle added every natural iris absolute and iris synthetic available, to create this ultra enhanced irisy-ness.

While it lacks the elegant mystery perhaps of 28 La Pausa, or the delicacy or Iris de Nuit (see below) it does enhance the chalky, starchy/sweet and rooty facets of iris so the overall effect is grounded, somehow suggesting strength and depth of character. It's darker and wilder in feel than the groomed urbane aesthetic of 28 La Pausa, or the healthily clean Hiris and in this sense it has an appealing mood of earthy intrigue

Infusion d'Iris by Prada
Earlier review Here (scroll down to review)
Infusion d'Iris is, despite its name, is more about citrus, florals and vetiver than iris. But the idea of iris is here in the subtle make-up and powder notes. It's what made this a surprising launch from a mainstream company such as Prada, going against the tide of sweet, fruity gourmands. It's one of my all-time favourites - very easy to wear, drying down to soft, earthy vetiver.

Iris de Nuit by James Heeley

The inky quality of iris is enhanced here. I use ink as an artist fairly regularly so I'm familiar with its earthy smell. Iris de Nuit balances this with violet and cedar to create a gentle, romantic mood. I always think of this as a perfume for poets
Earlier review Here (scroll down to review)

Other iris/orris perfumes worth trying..

Iris Nobile by Aqua de Parma
Iris Ganache by Guerlain
Iris d'Argent by Keiko Meicheri
Iris Gris by Legendary Perfumes 
Bois d'Iris by The Different Company
Hermessence Iris Ukiyoe by Hermes
Iris by Yardley
Heure Exquise by Annick Goutal

Musk

(To skip straight to perfume reviews, scroll to the bottom of this article)

Sweaty, indolic, faecal, animalic, catty, urinous, warm, glowing, barnyard.. 

All are terms used to describe 'musk' in perfume, and with the exception of 'glowing' you'd be forgiven for wondering why anyone would want to spray such essences on their skin in the form of perfume.

But as Duchamp's Urinal attests, it's all about context!

I'm neither a perfumer nor a chemist, so I'm not going to go into any great detail about the components of musk and its myriad manifestations in perfume. (for those of you with a deeper interest in perfume chemistry though, I highly recommend this 3-part series from the the perfume blog Perfume Shrine: Musk -  Series 1  Series 2  Series 3 )

Suffice to say, musk in perfume can be natural or synthetic, but nowadays for ethical and economic reasons it's more often synthetic. Historically, musk pertained to the substance taken from the anal pods of the musk deer, or glands from the civet cat which produce a 'fecal' note, also castoreum from beavers which produced a 'urinous' note, reminiscent of leather

The question is, why on earth would anyone want to smell like cat pee or deer's anus? The simple answer is, partly, longevity. Nature in its wisdom has ensured that smells pertaining to our reproductive organs will be very lasting, also pervasive.

If you add musk to a fragrance, it works as a kind of fixative, and without getting too detailed here, the theory is that it's basically to do with the shape or size of molecules, with musk being one of the more weighty, therefore the slowest to 'take-off' from the skin (lemon would be one of the lightest). This current theory (disputed by some scientists, most notably Luca Turin) is that the shape of these molecules interacts with our nose membranes.

But musk is not just about longevity. In nature many of the smells we love the most -  such as woodsmoke, leather, jasmine, orange blossom, honey fresh from the comb - also contain aroma chemicals reminiscent of our own natural secretions. Jasmine, for example, contains chemicals known as 'indoles' which in isolation smell somewhat camphorous, like mothballs, or even bad breathe, indoles are also present in faeces. Add these to the complex aroma that makes up the scent of jasmine and this facet enhances the flower's heady aroma - an excellent fly and bee attractor too, which is of course why flowers smell. This indolic quality is a feature of many white floral perfumes, which can be categorised as 'clean' white florals, 'animalic' and everything in between

It must be said that these smells are dividers - some people loathe the smell of jasmine and tuberose, others find woodsmoke in perfume too acrid. I myself struggle with tuberose but love both jasmine and woodsmoke. But, perfumers can really 'ramp up', or decrease certain musk smells such as 'urinous' castoreum, or 'fecal' indoles and civet, and when they ramp them up, I often find the results pretty repellent, while others don't even begin to detect these notes. This is because most of us are anosmic to certain musks, they're a bit similar to ultra violet rays, with some being on the edge of our perception.

Its probably a part-inherited trait since my mum and sister are also hyper sensitive to these factors. Appreciation of perfumery means I've developed a tolerance for some of the extremes though (much in the same way as people develop an acquired taste for blue cheese, for example).

Perfumers can isolate, dilute or enhance these effects. In contemporary, mainstream perfumes these 'skanky' factors (as they're known by perfume appreciators and collectors) are often downplayed. These days most people simply want to smell clean and fresh, especially while at work, which makes sense, but only up to a point.

The problem with these 'clean' perfumes is that they often lack complexity and depth - in short, they're boring. The human nose revels in complex aromas (as mentioned, woodsmoke and so on). And this is where musk can play a role in lending complex factors to perfume, reminiscent of, for example fresh sweat

I'll list a small and by no means comprehensive list of musky perfume examples below. But it's worth knowing that synthetic musks play the role of fixative in a variety of ways - some can simply smell clean, yet long lasting. Most washing powders contain synthetic musk because it retains scent despite soap suds normally breaking smells down. So musk can be dirty or clean depending on the effect desired. (it's ecologically fairly unsound for washing powders to contain so much synthetic musk, much more than perfume incidentally)

Lastly, an expensive yet natural and ethical source of musk that's still used in high-end perfumes, is ambergris. This is a by-product of the Sperm Wale's digestive system (I can't remember from which end to be honest!) and when it's first produced it's a foul smelling, tarry looking substance, but miraculously after a year or more floating in the sea it begins to smell lovely - a warm salty/sweet scent that's very distinctive with powerful fixative and 'projecting'  or pervasive qualities which make it ideal for perfume.

Urinous/Fecal
Sounds grim yes? But catty and fecal elements of musk are integral to the iconic perfume Joy, by Patou. This is to enhance the fact that's it's an abundantly rich floral bouquet. I personally can immediately smell a urinous note in this thanks most likely to castoreum (a note which I perceive as either 'fur-pants' or 'men's urinal' - depending on how its handled) and civet (some people think this smells fecal, but to me it's sharply urinous, others detect the fecal note more clearly, and still others smell none of that - just a lovely floral smell! Experience tells me that this 'pissy' or 'urinous' note will fade to produce a warmth that enhances the glowing and radiant floral qualities of Joy. Though it's still a perfume I associate with a woman who wears a long fur coat and files her red nails into talons -very much in a 'grande dame' style. I've read though, that it's current formulation has nothing on the vintage (a most enjoyable review at the Perfumed Dandy's blog can be read here )

Another note which produces a urinous or 'cat-pee' effect is blackcurrant bud - evident in Frederic Malle's Portrait of a Lady where it lends a ruby-red acidic lushness to the powerful rose/patchouli blend, and Annick Goutal's Ninfeo Mio where it combines with green/woody/citrus notes for an underneath-the-bushes effect wonderfully reminiscent of a wild garden in the height of summer.

Chanel's elegant classic Cuir de Russie also has notes of castoreum which, alongside smoky birch tar and a floral bouquet, enhance the idea of animalic yet elegant leather.

Sweaty/Indolic

Penhaligon's Amaranthine is a milky, green-toned beach floral to some noses, but to some people (including me) it's strongly reminiscent of the scent of stale sweat that you can't shift from a nylon top, and groin sweat, more specifically groin sweat from a man with worrying alcohol issues on a salad-free diet. This is followed up in dry-down with a surprise ammonia note, suggestive of advanced kidney failure. Needless to say, I struggle to think up an occasion at which I might wear this! It smells like the tragic and regrettable morning aftermath of a seriously dissipated night out. Others have described it as 'the scent of a woman's inner thigh'. and 'a corrupt floral'. I can appreciate that the musky qualities have been very deliberately ramped up by 'nose' Bertrand Duchaufour (something of a 'rock star' in the perfume world, many of whose other perfumes I find truly gorgeous - Seville a L'aube, Havana Vanille). Amaranthine has very classic female summer perfume qualities (milky white tropical florals, green notes, banana leaf) but Duchaufour deliberately made it very naughty because he wanted to challenge Penhaligon's prissy Victorian image, and as far as I'm concerned he's out-done himself here with this complex cocktail of musks! As mentioned, due to the fact many people are anosmic to the effects of certain musks, a lot of people don't 'get' any of this, just the florals...

Diorella by Dior, now this is my kind of indolic jasmine! To me this is more reminiscent of fresh sweat, and the fact that its lovely jasmine is harmonised with juicy (not sharp) lemon, ripe melon, and green, smoky vetiver makes it a dream-like summer picnic of a perfume. To spray this on is to be transported to the height of summer. It was love at first sniff for me - on the healthy side of sweaty, with a slightly unisex and very relaxed feel. A more lady-like and refined idea of this summer's day paradise can be experienced in  Le Parfum de Therese (my earlier review here).

A more subtle take on indolic white florals is Songes by Annick Goutal. Featuring jasmine, ylang and a small amount of tuberose, Songes suggests a humid, tropical holiday, the indolic quality is subtle, adding a soft, moist feel, it's also given a little depth with the addition of resins which suggest beeswax, and enhance the lovely summery quality

Salty
The previously mentioned ambergris, sourced from the Sperm Whale, is very evident in Andy Tauer's Une Rose de Kandahar. While this perfume features a very high quality Afghanistan rose, to me its most striking feature is the note of ambergris which lends this a tingling marine salty haze - very powerful and long-lasting. A more dilute version can be found in the beautiful Iris de Nuit by James Heeley - (a review can be read here towards the end of the post) paired with green notes and a delicate, cool violet, ambergris lends a subtly warm tone to this ethereal perfume.

Clean haze
The clean-haze effect is most often thanks to 'White Musk' - a sweet synthetic musk, best evidenced of course in the Body Shop's White Musk, also in J-Lo's Glow a pleasantly soapy clean floral scent. 'Cashmeran' another clean-scented musk is used to strong effect in Frederic Malle's  Dans tes Bras. Also, slightly lighter, in Donna Karan's Cashmere Mist where it lends a slightly acidic haze to the perfume. Some people are completely anosmic to this effect, while others find it strangely irritating. I can handle it in Cashmere Mist, but in Dans tes Bras it's like nails on a chalkboard for me -reminds me of the smell of old, oxidised metal coins.

Barnyard
Barnyard pertains to horsey, hay-like verging on manure notes, sometimes with a hint of castoreum. One of the best examples of this can be found in Miller Harris's L'Air de Rien. My earlier review here ). The synthetic musk used in this perfume is known as 'black musk' - darker and heavier in tone. (Though hay-like notes often refer to a perfume ingredient called 'coumarin' - best evidenced in Serge Luten's cosy, comforting Chergui). L'Air de Rien's horsiness is also due to labdanum, a type of resin which can smell hair-like

L'Air de Rien, by Miller Harris is a bit 'hippy' or 'horse stable' for some people, but as with all perfumes, and especially musks, it depends how it reacts with your skin. The horsey notes and lightly mildewed book smell of L'Air de Rien is oddly, but somehow perfectly, paired with sweet incense, vanilla and neroli. Some people say there's no hard evidence to prove that perfumes smell different on different people, but my answer to this is; Do people smell different from one another? I rest my case.

Bal a Versailles, by Jean Desprez
This has orange blossom and labdanum, in common with L'Air de Rien, but the feel is far more classic and formal. Despite its reputation as a musk bomb, Bal a Versailles has a classic suede-glove texture and lovely soft warmth with a salty powdered quality. The musky barnyard quality is slightly leathery, with castoreum adding a cat fur note alongside indolic notes, which will appeal to some but definitely not those who seek soapy freshness in a perfume!  In reformulation it's perhaps less floral and I can imagine it worn by men, in fact it reminds me a little of Penhaligon's Hamam Bouquet - a retro dandified perfume that suggests a well-dressed gentleman of yesteryear

I've covered a few examples here, but two more perfumes famous for containing a veritable cocktail of musks are Serge Luten's Muscs Koublai Khan - an animalic sweat-fest with a masculine feel, which for some smells warm and cosy, yet for others is repugnant. Secretions Magnifiques by Etat Libre d'Orange, is the ultimate skank-bomb, with notes of sweat, urine, blood and semen. I'm not aware of anyone who actually wears this, but perfume's not always about prettiness and adornment, maybe it's simply that experimental perfumers sometimes want to show off what they know about chemistry...

Happy sniffing!

All images © Rose Strang




(Information about musk in this article discovered at Perfumeshrine.com , Also in 'The Secret of Scent', by Luca Turin 2006. and 'Perfume, The Guide', by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, 2008)