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I am quicksilver, the fox in the night, emotional about the poetry, love & desire in scent, read me.

Thursday, 16 March 2017

City of Blood, City of Prayer: OSANG by Talismans Collezione Preziosa






‘To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle’

(From ‘Miracles’ by Walt Whitman)


In Naples, urs sanguinium, the City of Blood, three times a year, a strange holy ritual occurs. Two sealed vials, one large, one small, of dried blood belonging to the martyred Saint Januarius or San Gennaro as he is known to the Neapolitans are taken out of locked down security and presented to the gathered faithful in Naples Cathedral. Thousands assemble to witness the miracle of the liquefaction, San Gennaro’s desiccated blood slowly returning to life within the sealed crystal reliquaries.

The blood of San Gennaro

According to various unsubstantiated hagiographies (Actual detail is very thin on the holy ground…), San Gennaro was probably beheaded under the orders of Emperor Diocletian in the 430s during the Great Persecution for sheltering and protecting Christians. His body and head were separated for centuries and finally unified in 1497 at the instigation of Cardinal Oliviero Carafa, when his remains laid to rest in an ornate High Renaissance style crypt called the Succorpo beneath the cathedral.

The first documented accounts of the Liquefazione ritual start in 1389 and since then thrice yearly, the city of Naples glleefully celebrates this powerful mix of religious and supernatural yearning. The saintly blood has been hermetically sealed in two vials of differing sealed behind two thicknesses of glass inside a silver reliquary since the 17th century. This in turn is zealously guarded under lock and key by city officials in a bank vault. On September 19th, St. Januarius Day, the day of his Martyrdom, December 16th, recognising his patronage of Naples and the Saturday before the first Sunday in May, his blood and osseous relics are brought together at Naples Cathedral and the city waits deliriously to see if the holy cruor will liquefy and bless the people of Napoli.

It is a bizarre and compulsive liturgy, soaked in all the pomp and hysteria of Catholic sanguineous rites but also on a deeper level, a pagan ancient one, associating blood sacrifices to the gods to heal scarification and wounds and bring prosperity and luck to a tumultuous, sacred and profane city. Naples bears the dark wounds of organised crime and urban poverty, political corruption, the fires of history lit and stoked by the infamous Camorra. Yet historically it is rich in continuous fertile history from the bronze age, flourishing in the Roman era right through to modern times; as a centre of heavy industry Naples was dreadfully bombed during the second world, in fact it was the most bombed Italian city, the Allies repeatedly bombarded the port facilities. Between 1940 and 1944 approximately 200 air strikes were carried out on Naples, added to 180 city raids it is estimated between 20-25,000 civilians were killed by Allied attacks.

Vesuvio from above & side..
bloodstained by TSF
 

Ever present too is Vesuvius, Monte Vesuvio, a somma-stratovolcano on the Gulf of Naples, only 9km from the city. It is the only volcano on the European continent to have erupted within the last one hundred years. Everyone knows the story of story of Pompeii and Herculaneum buried under tons of pumice and ash in AD 79, preserving the cities and inhabitants in an eerie suspended frozen horror. In many cases final moments were captured in contorted body forms as the pyroclastic flow overwhelmed them. 



Experts estimate the thermal energy released from the eruption was a hundred thousand times the force unleashed by the allied bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Currently about three million people live within dying radius of Vesuvius. The last major eruption was during the war in 1944, killing 26 and displacing 12,000. The volcano is a strange and magnetic presence, rumbling, dormant menace but also a huge tourist attraction, beautiful ancient monster whose ash has nourished centuries of agriculture.

This heady historical brew of religious fervour, repeated rituals, a city obsessed with protection and fear of disaster living in the rumbling shadow of bubbling lava and memories of ash-filled skies has created a culture of superstition, portent, prayer and miracles. I have been a passionate devotee of the perfumed signs and wonders of Menditterosa Odori D’Anima since I was sent samples and fell in love with the poetic patchouli Le Mat and the beguiling sea-dream leather Sogno Reale. I have been wearing the extraits obsessively and have reviewed them over time; they seem to inspire wonderful words and abstracted images from me as an essayist. Stefania Squeglia is the quixotic force of nature behind the line, creating the imaginative drive and concepts for her perfumers, to date using Amélie Bourgeois and Anne Sophie-Behaghel at Flair in Paris. Although this fragrance family will be expanding in 2017.

Nettuno  by Talismans
Image ©TSF
  
Nettuno, signed off by Amélie Bourgeois appeared last year and astounded me; a strange galactic frozen rose spinning in its own dusted gasping beauty. Metallic blue, travelling with its own sweet aqueous supply it seemed to drift enigmatically in a unique and intriguing environment. The iris note feels like bruised cinema and the blending of musks, resins, carrot seed and singular addition of blue ginger feel like interplanetary weather. There is something immensely compelling about the Menditterosa line, there are intrinsically linked to Stefania and her lavish artisan soul. She is very generous; collaborating with other artists, painters, sculptors, models for the bottles, campaigns and boxes, She used dancers at Esxence last year and is very loyal to her family of colleagues for helping pull the beauty of Menditterosa together.

Naples is the motherlode for Stefania, the source of her inspiration, an atmospheric city of angels and demons saints, treasures and shadows. She is Neapolitan-born and after moving to France for a short while, moved back to live in Naples just over a year ago. She took the decision at the end of 2016 to split the Menditterosa line, a resolution I think is an excellent one. I love bready, moreish South and bleak, volcanic Id from the line but I always felt the more avant-garde jewels of the line Le Mat, Sogno Reale and Nettuno should either be contained within their own descriptive category in the line or have their own dazzling life outside Menditterosa. 

There is a certain risk in splitting an already established line, however Stefania has thought this through quite carefully, allowing Menditterosa to continue to grow organically by adding two very exciting launches this spring, Rituale by house favourite Amélie Bourgeois and Architepo signed off by Italian wunderkind Luca Maffei. This contrasting and revelatory duo (I’m not doing big reveals here…more on them to come perhaps in a separate piece) will join Alfa, Omega, North, South and Id. This collection is Stefania’s celebration of spirit and artistic freedom, scents that focus on matters of heart and soul, belonging, identity, love, yearning and completion of self.

Le Mat, Sogno Reale and Nettuno will move into a new and enigmatically assembled house of mystery and olfactive rapture, where the perfumes are divined as precious charms, juju and protective prayers. Talismans to wear and ward off Malocchio, the evil eye, dispel malaise and guard against uncertainty and misfortune. Talismans Collezione Preziosa will be a more arcane stylised line embroidered with symbols and ambiguity, each of the fragrances echoing Stefania’s preoccupations with spirituality, tarot, cosmology, rituals, art, craft and her beloved intractable Naples.

There is a separate more pared down identity for Talismans, it feels stark and more esoteric, in keeping with the powerful forces Stefania would like to suggest are at play in the manifestation of these complex and alluring scents. They will also have their own voices. If you take a look at the Facebook page for Talismans there is no mention of Stefania, this I feel is intentional, a desire to stand in the shadows, quietly orchestrating the aromatic magic and cryptic beauty of her new line.

We all need talismans, whether we realise it or not. The fundamental definition is of an object imbued with special powers or magical properties that will protect the wearer from harm, albeit spells, mischance or old-fashioned bad luck. The etymological origin of the word can be traced to the Arabic word tilsam, apparently from an alteration of the Greek telesma, itself referring to the Ancient Greek verb telein, which means to initiate into the mysteries, complete, perform a rite, from telos meaning result, end.

Juju..

Talisman, juju, fetish, amulet, charm, totem and periapt. Things imbued with power and promise of safety. This new brand concept will present the extrait strength perfumes as powerful olfactive invocations, Prayer as perfume, Perfume as prayer as it says on a teaser image on the Talismans Facebook page. I have to disclose here that I am proud and honoured to have been asked to help create copy for the launch of the Talismans line and OSANG, but this in no way influenced my opinions when it came to write reviews. If I hadn’t liked OSANG, I would have politely declined from reviewing it. Thankfully that wasn’t the case. Stefania kindly sent me a preview sample in a black dropper bottle with the word OSANG painted on the side in white marker. Somehow it seemed intrinsically appropriate, artistic even. Black glass, obscuring and protecting the precious juice. A hand-written note accompanied the vial with blood-red sealing wax embossed with a bespoke OSANG stamp. A beautiful hint of things to come.



I reviewed Nettuno last year in July, Sogno Reale in December 2015 and reviewed Le Mat for Cafleurebon EiC Michelyn Camen in July last year. This is a collection of fragrances I admire deeply; having an opportunity to add my words to their dynamic world was a wonderful thing. 

The OSANG flacon is quite a departure from previous Menditterosa bottles, not so much the glass container itself but the dramatic white Capodimonte porcelain hooded cap in the silhouetted shape of an abstracted bust of San Gennaro. These have been created specifically for Stefania by a Neapolitan based artisan porcelain company called Nada for Nada run by sisters Dafne and Ivana. Each purchased edition of OSANG will come with its own certificate of authenticity. Earlier I mentioned crimson red wax, well the bottles have this dripped on the front to represent the blood of the liquefaction miracle but also I think to echo the blood spilt on Neapolitan streets across the centuries and the human heart, fragile yet vibrantly alive. 

OSANG
image ©Ramy Leon Lorenco

The boxes are new too. No more mini art transportation crates, which while inventive and unique to Stefania’s fragrances were beginning to look a little too crafted I think and I know a few small retailers found the bulk of them tricky to display and promote. I’m very fond of them though; taking the beautifully made bottles out of their snug little crates gives me great pleasure. However the new packaging is undeniably luxurious and perfectly in keeping for the Talismans perfumes as the line moves ambitiously forward and marks out a separate identity for itself. 


Talismans Le Mat
Image ©TSF

     

Before I tell you about the exciting new Talismans perfume I want to place the existing trio in talismanic context, showing you how they stand in this new superstitious and spiritual universe of protection and supplication. Le Mat is a moody patchouli scent with echoes of vintage Caron for those that have that association; in my Cafleurebon review, I said:

‘Le Mat is a thrilling creature, deceptively balsamic, warm and sensual. It begins aloof, suspended even. The you can sense the immortelle powering up, igniting like bushfire beneath a lush rose and roasted patchouli.’

It is inspired by the Le Mat, the French name for The Fool, Il Matto in Italian decks, the Journeyman, one of the classic cards of the tarot arcana, deriving its talismanic strength from the turning of these unpredictable and cabalistic cards. Neapolitans are very superstitious and love the idea of living by fate and fortune, numerology, the lotto, cosmology, signs and symbology. Le Mat is a rich and heady brew of spices, roses and implied sweet earthen metaphor; traveling into the unknown, taking chances, embracing the uncharted.

Talisman's Sogno Reale
Image ©TSF

Sogno Reale astounded me the first time I smelled it, I have never forgotten that moment; inhaling that super-strange recipe of lemon, submerged briny leather, sacrificial smoke and hyraceum. Utter madness, a scent dreamed up in the floating dream void, sea urchins wearing crowns of tuberose and volcanic fumes. Its talismanic gift is drawn from the swirling subconscious and veiled world of waking reverie where everything is imbued with trembling portent. Each time I wear it feels as special as the first time.

Nettuno was the scent I think that set Stefania thinking about Talismans and splitting the line, as soon as it started being teased; the indigo stardust campaign with gorgeously flinted and facetted Trésor Prijs, the connection with Marco Pesatori’s poem The Flight of Neptune, everything seemed weightier, more layered and elaborate. The talismanic theme for Nettuno is Stefania’s beloved cosmology, using birthdates and planetary alignments etc to create personality maps and hints at futures. The planets have held sway over millennia for many cultures and faiths, symbolising diverse traits, moods and bodies, ruling over institutions, destinies and a yearning distant sense of barely settled fate.

Stefania Squeglia
(Vesuvio) portrait..
Image manipulated by TSF


In my Nettuno review last year I wrote:

…Stefania …is a deliberate woman, searching for reason in an increasingly sterile, controlled world. As our lives become more and more impersonal, we need more than ever things around us of difference and vitality, essences of desire and interference. For her these three Talismans are just that, scented charms, odiferous juju, weapons and runes to ward off miasma and malevolence. The complexity of the trio is undeniable in comparison to the rest of the line that while intriguing and elementally essential, they are in many ways, observers and acolytes at the talismanic court. The binding and cascades in the trio are unavoidably erotic too; this becomes beautifully apparent as soon as juice meets skin, then brain and senses’. 

I was very aware then of the burgeoning relevance this triptych of Le Mat, Sogno Reale and Nettuno had for Stefania and la famiglia Menditterosa. I wondered how she might further explore the artistic potential and powerful talismanic symbolism of her olfactory creatures. Talismans Collezione Preziosa made perfect sense as soon as Stefania told me her plans for the two lines and I understood her desire to take a much more ghosted role. It is very evidently a collection driven by the fertile imagination of Stefania Squeglia, but she believes intensely and truthfully in the voltage and psyche of her olfactive work. This may sound a little like perfume mumbo-jumbo but she is a rarity in the fragrance world in that she is a genuine reflection of her line. Despite not actually creating them, her involvement in the process, the artistic conversation between her and the perfumer is vibrantly dynamic and productive. 

If you have been following the mysterious teaser shots on the newly formed Talismans Facebook page and hints dropped in Instagram; papal-influenced flacons, sealing wax like dried blood, images of religious processions, banners, fervour and ecstasy, it was deliciously obvious something extraordinary was coming. OSANG will be the fourth Talisman, officially launching at Esxence in March alongside Rituale and Architepo, the two new members of the Menditterosa Odori d’Anima clan.

OSANG is some ways marks Stefania’s homecoming to Naples after a brief sojourn in France but it feels like something seismic and disturbing. This is a homecoming of cinder and darkness, revelation and wonder. OSANG is inspired by that delirious ritual of sanguineous liquefaction I discussed earlier, the remarkable spectacle of San Gennaro’s holy blood transforming magically from inertia to bubbling miracle of love. It is eclipse, shadow and mystery, a perfume inculcated with volcanic dreams and tears of blood. It feels augural and deftly thrilling as it fumes and unfurls on skin. I was expecting drama and a sense of Catholic violence but not the hooded concealment amid the rituals and church-bound wordage.

Everything about OSANG is about the talismanic power of metamorphosis, the shock of ritual witness and dizzying crowd psychology. More than ever before Stefania is underlining a commitment to her central tenet of perfume as prayer, prayer as perfume. This mantra elucidates her unique approach to scent, focussing on mind, body and soul. It may sound esoteric but she moulds it into her working processes and relationships. Through carefully wrought artistic collaborations she passes this passion onto to the faithful buying into the world of Talismans and also Menditterosa.

OSANG will shock a lot of people and utterly delight many more. For others it will be a perfume of obsession and morbid desire. I already feel an almost unhealthy attachment to its garnet glint and claustrophobic urgency. Stefania is keeping the creator secret, only listing the nose as Napoli and Its Huge Hope, which speaks volumes I think about the swell of emotion and commitment she has to her native city. There are large themes at turbulent play in OSANG, pagan totem worship, surging religiosity, protection, miracles, supplication, spirit and a sense of uncertainly made odiferous and wonderful.

OSANG
A miracle of love

The design is potent and complex, a mosaic of viscid, pyrotechnic notes mixed with pungent seasoning and a surreal landscape of solar-blazed meadow blooms and raw honey. Key to the composition is a massive IFF fenugreek absolute that smells like ash cloud and lustrous hunger. It has that spiked ravening thing, an odour that despite its initial flinching assault still makes the senses run with want and a gourmet sense of salivation. The alchemy of OSANG is colliding elements like this high impact fenugreek with dry roasted Sichuan pepper and creamy nutmeg against the sweet molten honey, vanillic sinuous styrax and drift of iris.

the faithful await the miracle.. 

It is hard to ignore the powerful ecclesiastical imagery and emotional romance associated with San Gennaro and craven thrice-annual resurrection. It is a remarkable mix of sacred and profane, voices called to him for love, blessing and guidance, praying the blood will move and come to life, the gathered crowds chanting his name, the myriad private prayers, the faithful walking to the rail to be blessed by the holy relic watched over by the skull of the saint himself, encased in decorative silver like a divine bauble. The blood itself rarely stays inert and all is well with the world; the transformation can take anywhere from an hour to forty eight hours with experts, naysayers, fanatics etc all chipping in to claim that ambient temperatures, seasonal weather variations, laser usage, warm priestly hands, hypnosis, good old-fashioned prestidigitation and sleight of hand can explain the magic behind what is undeniably a powerful and important ritual in the Neapolitan religious calendar. It is more than that though, it symbolises the tremulous hopes and fears of a tempestuous, theatrical city rising and falling, living and dying, bleeding as if stabbed through a troubled yet loving heart. Transformation and transubstantiation have the talismanic gift of salvage.

the blood.. the skull..
 OSANG transforms dramatically on skin after that initial confrontational and fascinating fenugreek overture. The quality of this note is exceptional and allows everything else to blend seamlessly into position. The central motif for me in this weird offering is a one of pyres and fumes scattered skyward, scorched oozing resins, balms, cistus and glowering funereal myrrh. Occasionally, drops of raw meadow blossom honey are poured from on high to spatter and caramelise, pieces of waxen comb and bee wing caught in blue and orange flame.

As the San Gennaro spectacle is about miracle and light from darkness, as OSANG is about the unfurling of soft illumination amid the penumbra turmoil of bloodfire weather. Each wearing provides alternatives readings, much like walking the same route in different seasons, hues, sun, moon, temperatures and rotations of the earth eliciting different responses. OSANG on the skin is a queer, private thing; it feels like something Stefania has made for each one of us alone, a hex and incantation to keep us safe and remind us we are alive. The evaporation curve is scattered with a deeply resinous pull of balms and resins all smoked in nutty, sooty pyrazines. It would have been easy to let these overshadow the formula like a pyroclastic flow, but that isn’t the case here; the pollen-tinted drip of honey and broom-like whiff of meadow flowers add pinpoints of helical flare to this celebration of sanguineous restoration.

I find an unsettling animal thing in it as well, just on the right side of zoological pungency; I am becoming increasingly intolerant of animal excess in scent. Show off levels of hide bound simulacrum and faecal dare are becoming tedious and commonplace. Barnyard funk and sweating horsebelly are rarely sexy. Fact. This intriguing OSANG animal tang however is us, the throng, and our tremulous and acidic odour, mineralised as the blood beats close to the surface of expectant skin. There are moments of instability in OSANG; the assembly is not quite 100% perfect, in places the landscape is too scorched and the weather too volatile. The materials occasionally scritch-scratch for space and light, particularly that potent fenugreek absolute as it meets the honey and cistus. The sometimes volatile caramalised curry and sweat effect that often haunts fenugreek has a tendency to run aromatic riot, depending on perfumer calibration, ingredient interaction, skin temp and mood. But I don’t think this really matters in the overall olfactive intention of the thing; OSANG by nature of its fervour and clamorous inspiration has need of asperous edges, they speak of anger, corruption, rock and fault line. Perfection or harmony if you prefer in scent is fine when required but Stefania has created a perfume with sensual fissures and din.

OSANG is quite different in tone from Le Mat, Sogno Reale and Nettuno; the sensual yearning and gauziness has been replaced by a more brutal and pagan oblation. The skin is now an altar, the notes a bed of slow burn offering for hope and protection. Many of the ingredients: honey, fenugreek, myrrh, cistus, styrax, incense, oud, sandalwood and benzoin have been burned in shrines for millennia, echoing the roots of perfume, from the Latin per fumum, through smoke, sending supplication and prayers to gods and skies above.

Talismans box text..image ©Ramy Leon Lorenco 

In Napoli, a city of turbulent desires, saints, superstitions, chance and Malocchio, the evil eye, living in the long shadow of the Vesuvio, the slumbering hearth of Hercules, Stefania Squeglia has returned to create a perfume of ominously radiant oddity. I think OSANG is great work, suffused with contradictory strangeness and compelling perfumed hagiography. The gilt-framed origin story of San Gennaro’s fevered blood liquefaction sacrament is one loaded with symbolism for Stefania, Napoli, skin and the perfumed mind. It will divide as all ritual and worship does, but those that are blessed will be transported.


For  more information on Talismans & Menditterosa Odori d'Anima please click on the link below:




©TheSilverFox March 2017


Disclosure: Sample kindly sent by Talismans and all opinions very much my own



Sunday, 12 March 2017

A Dream Of Berti: A Fleur de Piel – Macerations, Distillations & Enfleurage (Interlude I)



‘I would choose the tulips reckless way of going;
Whose petals answer light, altering by fractions
From closed to wide, from one through many perfections,
Til wreched, flamboyant, strayed beyond recall,
Like flakes of fire they piecemeal fall.’

(From ‘Deaths of Flowers’ by Edith Joy Scovell)


This is the first I hope in a series of slightly different fragrance focussed essays shorter in length called Interludes looking at some of the fragrance collections, samples, creators and perfumers I have been sent and acquired. I don’t necessarily want to dedicate one of more detailed aromatics biogs to, but I also don’t want to miss out on an opportunity to perhaps share some intriguing olfaction and scented people with you. The larger, longer pieces take up a lot of time with research and just the wordsmithery. I also create 90% of the images and this takes time and effort.  I don’t really want to start going into too much detail about how I chose the scented work for the longer essays, but I guess put simply I have to have a strong emotional reaction to the work and there are certain houses, noses, creative directives olfactive artists and houses to whom I am fiercely loyal. It’s not to say their work always dazzles and moves me, but… I am more often than not drawn wonderfully and happily into their seductive, professional orbits.

I would also like to use Interludes to talk about other things, subjects connected to scent, perhaps film, science, music, mood. Lets see how it goes. I just wanted to open a slightly different line of communication and try to leave less time between the longer essays.

Berti
Image courtesy
A Fleur de Piel Instagram

The first of these is something a little different, a portrait of a nascent perfumer, Alberto Fernàndez, or Berti to his friends, a young man soaked in redolent fleshy nature, choosing to create precious amounts of scent with traditional distillation and most beautifully of all, the fatty, waxen stillness of enfleurage. This old-fashioned, time-consuming and repetitive technique of laying down delicate blooms to die and expire their scents into trays of odourless wax or fat has long been abandoned by perfume houses. It is expensive and the yield makes the process counterproductive yet perversely glorious. As they die the flowers need to be rotated, i.e. changed regularly to keep the exuding of essentials oils continuing into the fats and waxes. But a number of small artisan perfumers have resurrected this slow, exquisite technique. The resulting enfleurage pomade is further washed in alcohol to entice the odours to migrate. This technique produces essential oils of great beauty and intensity. It was originally only used with delicate blooms such as jasmine, tuberose and violet that were considered too fragile to survive more traditional steam distillation techniques.

The phantom joy of enfleurage
Image courtesy 
A Fleur de Piel Instagram

Now due to the huge interest in artisanal techniques and craft perfumery on the Internet, more and more people are interested in trying things at home. Enfleurage seems pretty, but it is hard work and demands skill and devotion from the person to do it. I think there has to be an endgame in mind with the final product and an intricate understanding of the types of blooms to be used. Orange blossom, lilacs, hyacinth, jasmine, tuberose, violet, magnolia, orchid and camellias are just a few that lend themselves to this haunting death by wax technique, giving up their scented souls so we can smell like them…

Jasmine traces
Image courtesy 
A Fleur de Piel Instagram

On Berti’s beautifully curated Instagram there are a number of enfleurage images, his blooms slumbering to their quiet deaths in aromatic chassis.  I’ve seen and inhaled the process over the years ; it’s quite eerie actually, mostly done on a small scale now, which is why it is ideally suited to home or cottage production.

Woman preparing the enfleurage chassis
Image - Courtesy of Fritzache Bothers Inc, New York

 Years ago it was carried out on quite the scale, flowers laid on specially prepared sheets of glass or chassis as they were known, the heads carefully monitored and changed at regular intervals usually by women.  Done correctly the results correctly patiently yield an essential oil with an ephemeral clarity, the shimmering anima of the flower as it were. Whether this is due to the process itself or the psychology of observing and participating in the process; well that is a discussion for another time. It is a process Berti considers ‘the perfect medium between art and science’.

Loaded enfleurage chassis

Berti and I know each other from working some years ago for the same company, me in Edinburgh, him in London, Chelsea to be more precise. He left to go and live in Barcelona before the brand become brutally toxic, sold out and from a perfumery point of view, quite insignificant.  I lingered only to crash out last year. He was always obsessed with the architecture and body of scent when I knew him, one of those talented savants we were lucky to have in the brand that wanted to do more than just stand and sell. He is immensely artistic, a creature of fluidity whose fearless love of the senses would have made him I think successful whatever he had decided to do. For now, it is natural fragrance and harvesting his surroundings, obsessively working with roots, petals, stems and blooms to create his own alchemical, floral, intensive world. One where orris, hyacinth, beeswax, jasmine, oakmoss, roses, peony, peel, narcissi, rind and twigs become vapour, pomade, oil, nectar and dream.

He messaged me recently and asked me if I’d like to sample a few of the perfumes he had created. Of course I said yes, send me something you think I would like and vials of Al Zahir, Ola, Tardor and E Lys duly arrived. I had to wait a while as a truly appalling dose of flu stripped me of my senses and I was deeply immersed in the world of Mandy Aftel and I didn’t really want to distract myself from that.  As soon as I posted that I returned to Berti.

Ola was made for Berti’s friend Aleks Cicha, an architect and designer and has all the swooning vivacity of fully gifted roses. Wearing it, I felt as if I was being offered something deeply personal and I was to close my eyes and press petals to my eyes like a lover’s fingers, fingertips stained a rubicund blush. There is a minted pepper note on card that is not quite so apparent at first on skin taking longer to emerge. It is the beauteous powdered soul of rose, violaceous and rebellious that truly delights me on skin.

Rose image ©TFS

I always think boys smell delicious in roses.  Despite being made for one of Berti’s girlfriends and being undeniably feminine Ola has a bitter jamminess and nuzzle-plush muskiness that are defiantly ambiguous on my skin as the notes settle.  In this pretty fade there is just the echo of vintage sap, an edge of metallic stain amid the lush scent of gardens rolling in through open windows. Naturals and distilled roses formulated like this can often smell slightly unstable and overtly ephemeral as if they might suddenly just vanish.  I’m not sure I worry about this actually; roses have always seemed to me a blessing, imbuing my flesh with desire and Ola is beautiful delicate wearing.  I feel like a friend has visited and departed, never to return but the scent of their skin seems to linger in the air.

Al Zahir is a lovely evocation of orange blossom, a note many of you will know by now I have history with. In concentrated doses, neroli, distilled from the orange blossoms triggers terrible migraine attacks for me. Sadly the higher quality the absolute the more violent my reaction can be. It doesn’t always happen, but when it does, boy do I need darkness, heat compresses and analgesics. Birch tar does the same. It’s a question usually of how the material is blended and maceration.  I have slowly come to like a more full-bodied indolic orange blossom scent, Bertrand Duchaufour’s Séville à l’Aube for example, costus, beeswax, Luisieri lavender and a glittering golden orange blossom note or Daniela Andrier-Roche’s beautiful Knot for Bottega Veneta, lush citrus notes thrown over the orange blossom and white rose. Séville.. is erotic recollection and Knot is wistful wondering.

Bitter Orange Image (stock apped by TSF) 

When orange blossom is used well and with intelligence it seems to have an ability to arouse the senses. Al Zahir fall errs firmly on the wistful side of orange blossom play; I was surprised at how much my skin soaked it up and radiated back its approval, caressing the blossom over a slightly sticky rose and base of powdered woods. What remained was a dusting of mellow scented nudity due to Berti’s uses of naturals and particularly his enfleurage techniques.  You can almost smell the transparency and ghostliness of the absolutes and concretes.  The method gives the materials a vital echo of actual nature.

His Instagram for A Fleur de Piel is artistically curated, the images reflecting his processes, sources and inspirations. Plus glimpses of Berti and his close-knit world of like-minded friends and fellow creatives.  He was always artistic and questioning but his dreamy account provides a lush and personal window into his heartfelt and painstaking machinations.  A labour of aromatic love, his desire to include morsels of himself in his work is evident from the images. Berti is beautiful and his coterie of complimentary companions weave in and out of his life of scent, love, hair, pouting and music.  It seems only right to be honest that he is making scent this way, meticulously, yet somehow with flourish and an organic, natural connection to his surroundings. Some people seem a little freer than others; it’s the way it is.

Al Zahir takes it time to settle. I always test side by side on mouillettes and skin; card first just in case my foxy migraine senses start a-thrumming.  On the blotter and on fabric actually, Al Zahir retains an intriguing broken green foliage facet, something a little more vegetal like sweet artichoke with a touch of turned earth still clinging to it.  On skin is it much more romantic and soft, the orange blossom creamy and less pungent but painting itself like skin upon beauteous skin, glowing in warm summer sun. The rose is shy and only emerges from the woozy buzz of Sevillian warmth as the orange blossom begins to gently caramelise; like realising suddenly that the boy or girl you have known for years has been the revelatory lovelight you needed all along.

Lily (image ©TSF)

Berti knows how much I love the scent of white lilies, so he included a sample of E Lys in the vials he sent.  My first impression was a slideshow of clovey, pure images, Carrera marble, starched shirt collars, the architecture of nun’s wimples and cold rippled wax.  White on white on white, I love a lily soliflore. I know they are divisive: sensual, indolic, funereal, indolic, ethereal and symbols of utter purity or petals of death.  E Lys is a gorgeous rush of achromic bloom.  For many years Penhaligon’s Lily & Spice by Mathilde Bijaoui was one of my signature perfumes, an elegant mix waxen flower with saffron and a weird white pepper note that smelled like dry sand. The composition always had a campheraceous edge that worked I found incredibly addictive.  The brand launched it appallingly with an overtly sexual campaign and the packaging was terrible. The staff generally sold it badly, failing to understand it’s singular appeal and it was discontinued.  A pity as it was perhaps one of the only offerings from this beleaguered brand in recent years with any genuine sense of originality, along with Tra La La, Sartorial, Orange Blossom and Ostara (also axed), noticeably all Bertrand Duchaufour fragrances.

Baiser Volé by Cartier
Image ©TSF

My other beloved lily soliflore is Baiser Volé, Mathilde Laurent’s sublime essay in crystalline ikebana for Maison Cartier. I have gone through umpteen bottles of this and the unctuous Baiser Volé Essence De Parfum that ramps up the vanilla so the lily formulation has a rich halo effect. I never tire of the original’s salicylates-in-glass beauty; Laurent places her lilies in a simple, clear-cut vase, facets cut with care and sleek attention so that the gathered stems and curling leaves are refracted and distorted above in the mote-flecked air.  The fleshy, curvilinear petals emit their controversial reek of erotic allure.  I will never tire of Baiser Volé and the flankers, while arguably unnecessary explore the lilyform theme with skill, adding to rather than degrading the classic beauty of Mathilde’s iconic original.

Berti’s E Lys is bone cold; a quiet altarpiece floral, placed reverentially on skin as a precious grasp of flowers might be laid upon the earth over a departed loved one. Much as I adore the scent of the flowers I can’t have them in the apartment, as they are poisonous to my darling cats, so I make do with perfumed facsimiles, a different kind of sexy poison I guess. The blur of white and green, waxen bloom and stemmy bitterness is beautiful; for me any good lily scent should perturb as well as narcotise. E Lys has this, I think, due to Berti’s relentless preoccupation with enfleurage techniques and painstaking affinage of his very small batch work. They smell real, very real, a tangled, weather-lit echo of his external environment but also his operational minutiae.  There are moments when this reality is just a little too bare and exposed, the notes don’t quite gather the way they should, they sit together like close friends in the open air rather than abandoned lovers, entwined in the smudged light of a candle-lit room.

Too many lily formulae flirt with that camphor/mothball effect I mentioned earlier or overdo the supporting cast of jasmine, ylang and vanilla. E Lys is quite dry in mood, playing down the often-gossipy clove/carnation odour that just raises its sleepy head here. As I drifted off to sleep, I realised the thing I liked the most of all in this lovely lily soliflore was the scent of smeared barely yellow pollen dropped on aloof pink-tinged petals, I could almost inhale it off such weary skin, a mix of soothing empty chambers and winking devilment.

The final perfume in the quartet Berti sent me was Tardor, his take on the floral chypré genre with a ghostly leather shadow cast across it, tinged with slightly damp regret.  There is a sudden rush of classic Dior, Dioressence especially in the mossy verdancy and I assume (along with the visual proof from images on his Instagram) some distilled evernia prunastri or oakmoss; its lichen sepia tones are unmistakably doleful and vintage. Roses, patchouli, lavender and maybe a whoosh of mulchy galbanum or hyacinth exalt the chypré mood, sparkling around a white floral haze in the centre. The rose is a little too overbearing as time moves on and that glorious mossy overture recedes a little too much as if afraid of the rhythm at a jazz age party. I did like the whiff of leaf decay and dust as it faded, like someone opening a window and suddenly autumn rolling in over the sill into the once warm room.  Chypré structures are notoriously hard to nail, oakmoss is of course prohibitively regulated and even if you are just making small batches for yourself and friends with no intention to sell you still have to be careful with calibration.  On card and skin, Tardor develops a soapy, rosemary-like intensity that was pretty strong, more so on skin that I found quite difficult to handle.  It was my least favourite of the four Berti sent, but that oakmoss start is super.

A lack of structure does let Berti down in places; the notes and effects err delightfully but with a gauche sense of olfactive spatial awareness.  Like everything in life though, learning curves are everywhere; it is a question of reading and weathering their idiosyncrasies. They are undoubtedly delicious but tricky materials he has chosen to work with.  On the one hand you don’t want to compromise the natural effervescence and charm of the absolutes etc but in order to achieve a deeper, truer sense of beauty one has to impose a strict sense of order on formulae in order to avoid that wandering, vague hand in hand construction where the notes seem pretty and side by side, but are too easily identifiable. No real sense of coalescence or harmony.

Raw materials
Beeswax, oakmoss, orris root

Image courtesy 
A Fleur de Piel Instagram

Berti has really just started on this journey and some of his self-crafted materials are feral and seductive. He has chosen a difficult way, any form of mass production and repeat ordering will be very difficult and he will have ensure he charge any future clients, if that what he chooses to do, the commensurate amount to justify his work.  The materials he is working with bring their own set of beautiful values, demands and personalities to his aromatic palette, beaker and flask. I asked Berti some questions before I started this piece just to let him know what kind of essay I would be putting together, about future plans, solidifying his ideas etc, he said:

I really enjoy the process of distillation and enfleurage because you are able to literally transfer the essence provided by nature and preserve it indefinitely. To me, the scent of flowers such as jasmine, it is an otherworldly gift and to be able to capture it yourself and then put it into a perfume is as good as it gets. ‘

This Interlude piece is my way of introducing you all to Berti and his processes; you should follow progress on his A Fleur de Piel Instagram page. He has plans to consolidate and clarify his fragrance formulae and create a website, something he doesn’t have just now.  He does already have a number of fragrances, as he is always busy making things for friends, something he loves doing. Working with artists on olfactive installations is a another future plan and he is working towards the idea od running a workshop at his studio where people can learn see him in action but also more importantly learn the skills of distillation and enfleurage.  I suggest for now if you want to contact him or say just hello, follow his IG and do so through that. Depending on cost etc and where you are, he is happy to send out samples for people to try.   


One of Berti's distillation classes (lavender...)
Image courtesy 
A Fleur de Piel Instagram

I have been sampling so much since last summer, making up I guess for all the time I lost to illness.  I think now I honestly inhale and register things differently, my tastes and personal thresholds for certain styles have alerted considerably. Animalics, tobacco, costus, cumin, neon gourmands.. I can’t really handle them anymore. Yet galbanum, cistus, carnation/eugenol and ozonics are examples of things I am rediscovering with glee. Illness and an on-going meds regime have made me acutely aware of the odours I now wear. I go scentless for days too, I have to, I just can’t handle too much olfaction. When I do wear something, I really appreciate it.  I was going to say I appreciated the simplicity of Berti’s perfumes but that’s not quite correct, it is more the purity of them I think that both my skin and senses appreciated, the limpidity of the floral arrangements. They lasted well enough, again I’m not massively bothered right now by bombastic persistence but everyone will have their own opinions on that.

This dream of Berti, a lyrical interpretation of field, orchard, tree, leaf, rhizome and bloom is very personal and for now low key and low yield, but he has lovely instinctual talent and a natural grasp so far for the way he is going. Expanding this operationally will be complex but creating small batch shimmering and pellucid perfumes for private clients and working with artists is a way to maintain control over such a high maintenance operation. Berti is a busy boy and this is good. I think E Lys and Ola in particular demonstrate the sheer beauty of enfleurage; the ways the materials produced have such vital force and movement in air.  The rose in Ola especially, really delighted me, I kept thinking about it for days, I could smell it in my brain, visualise its blush and mauve-veined texture.

Hyacinth enfleurage (image apped TFS)
Image courtesy 
A Fleur de Piel Instagram

So, say hello to Berti, follow his progress on Instagram, his world is worth dipping into and inhaling for a while. He has a lot of talent and this is augmenting all the time. These self-taught boys and girls with their immersed senses and hands-on pride, they thrill me. Everyone says you need years and years of training to become a real perfumer.  Really? I don’t think so. It depends on what you want from your perfume.





©TheSilverFox March 2017