tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70079600864412157982024-03-05T14:38:25.054+00:00The Silver FoxThe Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-8011810315403071862018-01-26T23:43:00.000+00:002018-01-30T08:16:52.647+00:00Mirrorborn: ‘Rituale’ & ‘Archetipo’ by Mendittorosa Odori d’Anima<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘I am silver and exact. I have no
preconceptions.<br />
Whatever I see I swallow immediately<br />
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mirror</i> by Sylvia Plath) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My love affair with
Mendittorosa Odori d’Anima began a number of years ago with a small parcel of carefully
wrapped samples sent to me from Poland by my friend Jakub Piotrovicz, a very
early Fox fan and now as some of you may know, the busy bearded dandy of the
euro perfume scene and co-founder of the <a href="http://persefume.com/">Persefume</a> website with his friend Ola
Cacha. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This is how it
started. Loving the immortelle-drunk rose-soaked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Mat</i>, a truly beautiful proposition of Lynchian boudoir dreams inspired
by the troublesome kitch of the Marseille tarot pack. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Id</i>, the closing volet in a personal trilogy on identity along with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alfa</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Omega</i>, a very strange love letter to a volcano, pitted, stony and
bleak. A black, soft dream of sulphur with an overdose of labdanum that smells
like beach noir. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">South (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">South</i> is a perfume I
have fallen in love with slowly. I liked its eccentric attempt to suggest a
southern Mediterranean mix of freshly baked bread and shattered nuts against a
ground of white flowers and bright white washed linen drying in the sun. But
when I first tried it, something didn’t quite click, my skin felt ill-fitted,
but now it feels perfect, that expanse of white musk backdrop and scattered landscape
of flowers, woods and carroty powder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Sogno Reale <br />(Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">However I did fall
quite obsessively in love with a deeply weird thing called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sogno Reale</i>, a sea urchin leather, an odour of ocean dreaming, of
lemon squeezed violently over seafood on a bright table in the sun, the air
rich with brine and flecks of spray. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">And with the
following launches, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i>, I found my words and dazzlement
flowed like lava from brand owner Stefania Squeglia’s sacred Stromboli, dark
love and preoccupation with the motifs, rituals, organum and strange reverie
that decorate the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Stefania Squeglia & Amélie Bourgeois<br />sampling Rituale (Image©Persefume) </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Stefania who hails from Naples is a pale and compelling red-haired spirit who draws her
inspiration from a multitude of fascinating and esoteric sources. Sanctified
catholic blood rituals, tarotology, astrology, volcanology, the amniotic sea,
children’s drawings and Plato’s cave myth have all been carefully,
stylistically embroidered, burned and painted through the Mendittorosa palette
by Stefania and the select perfumers she has chosen to work with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIfyufyi35OOmbl7iJXYobbQI7aAKmR15qfpXWuGATiVPunu3OhwsddwPC2JaBtrHgMf5BtZmR-KKraYRyb6yML3H0Idt7xEbjH64yXqVxi2uWt0DkEU_NBTkEtsJf5FVdLpa41TC5zA/s1600/lemat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIfyufyi35OOmbl7iJXYobbQI7aAKmR15qfpXWuGATiVPunu3OhwsddwPC2JaBtrHgMf5BtZmR-KKraYRyb6yML3H0Idt7xEbjH64yXqVxi2uWt0DkEU_NBTkEtsJf5FVdLpa41TC5zA/s320/lemat.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Le Mat (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">These include
Paris-based Amélie Bourgeois and Ann-Sophie Behaghel at <a href="http://www.flair-paris.fr/?page_id=544">Flair</a> whose diverse and
constantly evolving work across a pretty impressive roster of niche brand names
is always fascinating to sample and wear. They seem to have an innate ability
to work symbiotically with clients either as a duo or individually and the
perfumes are vibrant, controlled and often just that little bit more leftfield. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnOpVH3FyszL3ECiaAe-RR821Phbir01NGlplBbbfS0hAbRdcyLO7C0qrY4WixHyAW-FQba48bxyao0Yft5UVfY9AbTyuYRxSJHcjyCQHmffcLxhZ0Qdpj_-ft-PHh5Slvirtz16ikCAw/s1600/flair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnOpVH3FyszL3ECiaAe-RR821Phbir01NGlplBbbfS0hAbRdcyLO7C0qrY4WixHyAW-FQba48bxyao0Yft5UVfY9AbTyuYRxSJHcjyCQHmffcLxhZ0Qdpj_-ft-PHh5Slvirtz16ikCAw/s320/flair.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Ann-Sophie Behaghel & Amélie Bourgeois<br />of Flair Paris. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Their perfumes for Liquides Imaginaries, Æther, Jovoy and Room 101 for example
showcase imaginative perfumery with a clear head and a beating
sensuous heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> was a more mysterious proposition, a truly astonishing
odiferous thing, but in many ways this was Stefania’s homecoming, her
passionate and mysterious hymn to the city that created her, Napoli. After
living in France for a while, she decided to return to Naples and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i>, the sanguineous tribute to the
miracle of San Gennaro and his sanctified, resurrected blood was an all too
perfect subject for her Neapolitan return. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Osang (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang’s</i> theme of miracles and transmutation makes for rather
extraordinary perfume storytelling. The call to liquefaction of San Gennaro’s
sacred blood, coagulated and stored in crystal reliquaries is a hugely symbolic
ceremony that takes place three times a year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Religious or not it
is hard to deny the glittering eccentricity and fervent adherence to something
that on the surface seems like madness: a ancient saint’s blood liquefying in
the presence of his gold-plated skull while the faithful chant his name. More
often than not the miracle is secured, San Gennaro’s blood flows and the white
handkerchief is raised to signal success. Neapolitans are born superstitious;
numbers, lotto, charms, trinkets etc and they believe if the blood stays solid
inside the arcas, bad luck and even disaster will befall the city and its
inhabitants. Living as they do in the shadow of rumbling stratovolcano Mount
Vesuvius, their fears and superstitions have a haunting logic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Osang (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> was something very different from the heart and mind of
Stefania Squeglia, a more brutal and ritualistic scent, a perfume that smelled
raw and burned; a high concentration of fenugreek absolute clashed with
pyrazines, honey, herbs, meadow flowers and a weird after scent of disrupted
storm air. The mix of sweet altar and charred aftermath with a whiff of
volcanic drift was divisive. How could it be not? All the most beautiful and
challenging things usually are. Stefania withheld the name of the perfumer
saying only that it had been created <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">by Napoli
and its Huge Hope</i>. Part of me senses her physical hand at work in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i>; it smells reckless and beautiful
enough to be true. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The launch of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> also coincided with a decision by
Stefania to split her original Mendittorosa line in two with the duo of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">North</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">South</i> and the trilogy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alfa</i>,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Omega</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Id</i> remaining as Mendittorosa Odori D’Anima and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Mat, Sogno Reale, Nettuno</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> forming a new collection entitled Talismans Collezione
Preziosa. I was very kindly invited by Stefania to create text for this phase
of her evolution, creating language both for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> and also for the Talismans creations, separating their unique
identities out from the Mendittorosa mothership. This was a commission that
brought me great joy, allowing me to really flex my linguistic skills and
imagination. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The first <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> flacon was beautiful. A simple
glass bottle but topped in a bespoke Capodimonte cap designed by sororal Naples
artisans <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nada for Nada</i> that echoed
ecclesiastical mitres. Drops of red sealing wax speckled the glass, symbolising
San Gennaro’s blood. I actually gasped when my bottle arrived in the post,
asleep in the new luxurious style boxes like a jewel. The original idea was a
limited edition run but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> will
now continue to be very much a part of the Talismans universe, but each new
edition will showcase a new cap. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqWjsxFXmAyoU2fGkLjSCoACV76hde40viowXeQMEplWqbdrAoGyc4ExPybwJLcVqSZjAsJSGOz0XmN0snaNKtV6axuyFATAHU_VO38odOExTx4NUdUAgRjGTetaeua-2kl9xOOMUVzw/s1600/NewOsang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="721" data-original-width="721" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqWjsxFXmAyoU2fGkLjSCoACV76hde40viowXeQMEplWqbdrAoGyc4ExPybwJLcVqSZjAsJSGOz0XmN0snaNKtV6axuyFATAHU_VO38odOExTx4NUdUAgRjGTetaeua-2kl9xOOMUVzw/s320/NewOsang.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Osang New Edition<br />Image from Mendittorosa/Talismans<br />(digitally altered by TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The second one has only recently launched with a gorgeous gold cap again with a mitre echo but this time more armoured and defensive, the blood reflected
in the crimson-coloured tassel that adorns the bottle. It also resembles the
cupola dome of a renaissance church, the holes echoing windows cut, allowing
light to stream down like holy rays on the faithful below. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Stefania launched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i> at Esxence 2017 alongside <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i>, two new additions to the Odori D’Anima universe and the
beginning of a concept called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time
Without Time</i>. The pair was well received in Milan with lots of buzz from
bloggers and visitors. Again exquisitely designed flacons with handmade caps of
swirling metal tendrils like spaghetti, knots, roots or neural pathways. Amélie
Bourgeois signed off <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> and
Italiano wonderboy Luca Maffei, one of the busiest independent perfumers around
just now has signed off <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i>,
his first composition for Stefania and Mendittorosa. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVEkkMcQhOUPmO8tZ9gb-NTr50btANh19aJY1r7GPLqrDCb7sKZCWDN1nQ9zKyRyY7mvgYNQRbhNAHs2GXeIn2VTGZsamZ0uN7vZYQpJtMvGOj86ZbLuhMynMePsaslDO_yyFgdxgBZQ/s1600/archetipooverhead2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMVEkkMcQhOUPmO8tZ9gb-NTr50btANh19aJY1r7GPLqrDCb7sKZCWDN1nQ9zKyRyY7mvgYNQRbhNAHs2GXeIn2VTGZsamZ0uN7vZYQpJtMvGOj86ZbLuhMynMePsaslDO_yyFgdxgBZQ/s400/archetipooverhead2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Archetipo (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It was at Esxence
that Stefania finally revealed the emotive and personal origins of the
Mendittorosa name. She had with her an identity card for her gracious grandmother
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rosa Menditto</i>. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-CtkDrTJCCVJO19ThQ301M2qOGXeE7tiJLA01rkUc3qbLsY4ZGWBlJfkTIA2tX5UOuYzxhAh5W2gSVMO4ZU4YMtZdTH5ekuW6DIT6-FTvXReyDN9qUpiC_8IVkSdvN37gcOrPeExKU4/s1600/Rosa+Menditto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw-CtkDrTJCCVJO19ThQ301M2qOGXeE7tiJLA01rkUc3qbLsY4ZGWBlJfkTIA2tX5UOuYzxhAh5W2gSVMO4ZU4YMtZdTH5ekuW6DIT6-FTvXReyDN9qUpiC_8IVkSdvN37gcOrPeExKU4/s320/Rosa+Menditto.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Digital image TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Hence Mendittorosa
Odori D’Anima translates quite simply and beautifully as scents of the soul <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> references her matrilineal heritage,
which goes to the very heart of what Stefania is doing with her brand, creating
perfumes that connect to us on a more profound emotional level. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">So much of
Stefania’s curiosities and raptures are poured into the collaborations with
perfumers, the symbiosis has to date produced some of the more original and
exciting work in the niche sector.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2q_K2e48R0SzFNkCvyb8wBo1gcTfVF9_P9-Kzv6NybWqr1jwv79sujp9N-Hd4msrGAIWsGcx9lFQ-4auEnUuYlB0Y5W7RNDu8wIm6ki07pqJ86I0doqeKa7EltYhyphenhyphengAg8OqYWvKY26TQ/s1600/RitXArch3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2q_K2e48R0SzFNkCvyb8wBo1gcTfVF9_P9-Kzv6NybWqr1jwv79sujp9N-Hd4msrGAIWsGcx9lFQ-4auEnUuYlB0Y5W7RNDu8wIm6ki07pqJ86I0doqeKa7EltYhyphenhyphengAg8OqYWvKY26TQ/s320/RitXArch3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Archetipo & Rituale (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><i style="color: #444444; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Rituale</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> and </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Archetipo</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> are
among the best perfumes she has created, a quietly beguiling and shadowed duo
of guttering flames, ritual, repetition and reflection. Amélie and Luca have
brought the full force of their artistic olfactive talents to bear on
Stefania’s complex briefs. The results are unique. The duo reflect and repel,
stand alone and crave one another. I hear whispers of a third creation to join
them in early 2018 so I await its arrival with great interest.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I think <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> has nudged Amélie outside of her
Flair comfort zone. The red berry harvest and bloody glitter of pomegranate
could potentially have been messy and fruitchouli-ish; all pomegranate-stained
fragrances run the risk of echoing Jo Malone’s behemoth oriental <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pomegranate Noir</i>, but Amélie is far too
gifted a perfumer for that. There is still the subtlest of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pomegranate Noir</i> flashes as Rituale rushes from the bottle, but
this is quickly picked up, soothed and altered as the perfume develops into
something more complex and unusual. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkGJ145inG5OskXrcBSQ9ZChg7cJ1LXLUi34EXqVT-zixnKv8asO5ZXYwdogL8fBMPEd0npBJ-7Ks5U8_MolqaJdHQgTnh7TCqyn-xVTWgMH9MOeaBQm479G2UQZ2I2ETts6Rd2_ao2M/s1600/RitualePomhat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkGJ145inG5OskXrcBSQ9ZChg7cJ1LXLUi34EXqVT-zixnKv8asO5ZXYwdogL8fBMPEd0npBJ-7Ks5U8_MolqaJdHQgTnh7TCqyn-xVTWgMH9MOeaBQm479G2UQZ2I2ETts6Rd2_ao2M/s400/RitualePomhat.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Rituale by Mendittorosa Odori D'Anima<br />(Image©TSF)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My immediate
impressions of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> are of using a
knife moulded from rose petals to cut gently through the heart fruit of
Amélie’s pomegranate, a mix of resistant skin and oozing sanguineous
fascinating seeds. If you’re a fan of these remarkable fruits, you will know
the earthy, tannic scented juice stains like hell. My chopping boards have
terrifying stains running through them. I have a pomegranate tattoo on my right
calf with six seeds falling like red tears; this is to echo the myth of Hades
and Persephone I was told as a child by my mother and never forgot. Hades,
desirous of Demeter’s wild and understandably reluctant daughter Persephone to
be his underground bride, offers her a pomegranate. She consumes six seeds,
thus committing herself to six months above ground, spring and summer and six
below, autumn and winter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The tendency is to
err on the side of jammy, compote-scented aromas, the natural tartness and
vibrancy of the berry scent lost in sweetness. Not in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i>. The sudden loveliness of torn rose petals and cut piquant
fruit is quite different. This intriguing opening is then washed in aldehydes, green
gauze flickers at the senses, just enough to register interference but still
elegant enough to raise a ghost of vintage veils and rubbed moth wings.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The trilogy of rose,
jasmine and narcissus that Amélie has arranged so delicately as the floral
centrepiece of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> glows with
careful, almost reverential lustre. Jasmine and druggy narcissus can’t help but
stand out against the red. If you imagine walking into a white room filled with
white blooms and someone has hurled crimson paint across one wall, red droplets
falling on scattered snowy petals. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWRl6TW1VpO0xS8bz43NUrKa4l8xLkl-8GtY0UP2pnz7FZyz5JCc78aHnwjD68eo3c_4wo4Fow2jhgjTEqmYR0V_dnt75pO-T67ORmdthqlqV_NWd2ygsNT3NqW3Lalmy-8dTUjxyjNk/s1600/RedRoomII.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWRl6TW1VpO0xS8bz43NUrKa4l8xLkl-8GtY0UP2pnz7FZyz5JCc78aHnwjD68eo3c_4wo4Fow2jhgjTEqmYR0V_dnt75pO-T67ORmdthqlqV_NWd2ygsNT3NqW3Lalmy-8dTUjxyjNk/s400/RedRoomII.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Red Room II (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Interestingly the
head notes seem to sink down into the central section, particularly a lovely
on-the-tongue pith and peel mandarin note and some lavender that feels like
finely ground paint pigment needing only oil to explode the hue. I barely
noticed it on the blotter, but skin heat intensifies my beloved beeswax, and suddenly
you realise it was always there, a honeyed unguent to work slowly into tired
inviting flesh, easing away memories. Once I sensed the beeswax amid the décor
of fruit, aldehydes and musks I realise I was more than a little lost to the
rituals of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29eLql516Z9wZbA363GWqamElpkSMFZL6UDqlBsUQME_JwWLpa_pDmY45YnRmhakfdMIipRJL0I2sPYhSLN6qmkDzQqifYa79RWxhX38UYTETTZLjGnCaSYLXkSf0BGIePG2TnvGiYLg/s1600/ritualetrio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29eLql516Z9wZbA363GWqamElpkSMFZL6UDqlBsUQME_JwWLpa_pDmY45YnRmhakfdMIipRJL0I2sPYhSLN6qmkDzQqifYa79RWxhX38UYTETTZLjGnCaSYLXkSf0BGIePG2TnvGiYLg/s400/ritualetrio.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Rituale (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The wax is a
base-ish note, warmed carefully over patchouli, cedarwood, amberwood,
crystalline musks and a studied dose of hyraceum, a fascinating material,
sometimes called African or Golden Stone that has become more frequently used
in perfumes of late to impart a sense of dangerous animalism, a whiff of recoil
and perverse desire. Used well and with skill it has an unparalleled effect, an
invitation to dirty surrender, the suggestion that under all beauty there is
always the odour of instinct and pelt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Amélie has already
used it superlatively in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sogno Reale</i>
for Stefania’s Talismans Collezione Preziosa, creating something genuinely
original and compelling in her imagined sea urchin leather, a briny collision
of citrus, amber, smoke, rum, woods and a drowning tuberose. In some ways <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> is a companion piece to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sogno Reale</i> in the way that the hyraceum
appears lighter, more malleable in tone; a wash of effect as apposed to an
opaque smear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> blooms, those fruit notes flow
over the skin and become lucid and restful. I am not normally a big fan of red
fruit notes in perfumery. My initial reaction to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time Drops</i> sample of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i>
as Stefania is calling them was a little wobbly because of the berrilicious
pomegranate strain. But any sense of familiarity becomes soothed into absorbing
originality. More often than not, these fruity sparkled perfumes either
structurally disintegrate as they unfurl, any sense of charm dashed on dull
synthetic patchouli and cashmeran shores. Or the fruit becomes like a high-pitched
neon scream and slaps your eyes and blood vessels into submission until
migraine knocks you out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Amélie does
something interesting with the red fruit concept, under-painting it with a
mineralised ground of white musks and synth ambers. If you could x-ray <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> I imagine these notes appearing
like washes of brush strokes beneath the flush of red-stain. This is an
important technique as it prevents any sugared bleed into the narcissus and
jasmine that over time on skin travel from starkly lit against glass to
collapsed and melancholic. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> is
beautiful perfume assembly and I would expect nothing less from Stefania and
Amélie; an aromatic conversation between two women of time passing, notes
shifting and evolving into an assuaged and hallowed sanctum.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyP8WEKMLtQVz29Y0IcUBYXHMLJwu5XF6mDy6MOAyNZ1-B0MzX0ACsySkXuq-eBijsIJSptzu2Ei_9DuDWQlnu5ER8ZI8pl3fvi76lQ3NpL0UQhuwDJ7Kw6oVz4mAp1f8mZKe6F4Z0M4Y/s1600/rituale+candle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyP8WEKMLtQVz29Y0IcUBYXHMLJwu5XF6mDy6MOAyNZ1-B0MzX0ACsySkXuq-eBijsIJSptzu2Ei_9DuDWQlnu5ER8ZI8pl3fvi76lQ3NpL0UQhuwDJ7Kw6oVz4mAp1f8mZKe6F4Z0M4Y/s320/rituale+candle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Rituale (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As the name suggests,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> suggests a profound sense of ritual,
ceremony and observance; the daily routines we use and enact to protect and
reassure ourselves. All of the Menditterosa and Talismans are religiously
unisex in their conception and execution. However for the first time I do sense
fissures in Stefania’s rigid code. This is not a criticism at all, merely an
observation. When two perfumes are released like this side by side with no
precise common ground, the senses search for comprehension. I am aware of
Stefania’s nebulous <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Time Without Tim</i>e
project title but it doesn’t hold me quickly enough for now. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> is the first Mendittorosa
perfume to have a suggestion of feminine form, a skeletal whisper moving
beneath the quiescent layers of musky fruit and decaying aldehydes. A drift of
blushing vestals in a mineral temple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I got to thinking
this mineral weather has actually always been a sympathetic gauze in the Mendittorosa
canon. I returned to my collection and sampled everything and of course I’m
aware that between Stefania and Amélie and Anne-Sophie at Flair there has over
time developed a signature of sorts. But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Osang</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> are different and bear
a heavier weight from the olfactive memory and wants of Stefania. Whether or
not she is overtly aware of it her obsessive connection to Stromboli rumbles through
the entire œuvre to varying degrees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9zK5GcsINJozWI_pWkyths179pLhvKbP3rs15xDzkzBejXV3BrRElS9fCjw7Dht4yD-YaiK2b1qMwDN4gqaQNIobB5wjHokU3AJXD9_PQFVNx6GmMQfdx16iTld5LOQaOt5iWT_g244/s1600/TimeDrops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9zK5GcsINJozWI_pWkyths179pLhvKbP3rs15xDzkzBejXV3BrRElS9fCjw7Dht4yD-YaiK2b1qMwDN4gqaQNIobB5wjHokU3AJXD9_PQFVNx6GmMQfdx16iTld5LOQaOt5iWT_g244/s320/TimeDrops.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Time Drops: Rituale & Archetipo samples..</span>.<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I changed my life to create Mendittorosa
Odori d’Anima. Mendittorosa Odori d’Anima is my way, my life, my real soul. I
was in a special place when I finally decided to open this magic chapter of my
life, that place is Stromboli, a volcano, which is still alive. A black
lava mountain 1000 metres above the sea and 2000 down. My symbol. My muse. My
amulet. My Stromboli. My Iddu*. A new Energy Baptism. I hope this pure energy
will reach you now.</i>’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Stefania Squeglia
(From Menditterosa website) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">*(Iddu is the
vernacular Sicilian name for the still active volcano, it translates as
‘He’)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It’s just a theory
but I’ve spent a lot of time with Stefania’s perfumes, looking closely at
styles, moods, flow, flaws, inspirations and the creative processes. She has
fire in her, Stefania, her hair, red like flowing lava and like any artist she
is unpredictable. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Id</i> created with
Amélie Bourgeois in 2012 is key to the mineral taint that shadows Stefania’s
olfactory imagination. There is a generous overdose of sticky cistus or
labdanum in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Id</i> lying uncomfortably
under a bleak bouquet of iris, violet and carnation that while suggesting
powder actually falls like ash on skin. Oud, birch, patchouli and musks are
burn and smoke, cinders dampened in the rain of ambroxan. Other notes including
jasmine, campheraceous Ravensara and the sweet dust of cinnamon add ambitious
texture to the overall isolated difference of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Id</i>. It smells alone and strong, chthonic and granular. This is the
odour of her sacred place, the black sand, the fire, a scent of sulphur in the
air, the smell of surrounding sea as you travel to and from the island. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGB1v3hGewV5evxwKFif20_ix5CT7gKvttOeUA0I29fbWVyQ8c5xcQPRKJLAimlh6sOpBeQ8X6ucwYG-O1LEvvEuwK5n07u1xTRypTcKnRCiYyoNPFP19nQNMFUFxGAECWsCA85aK4mY/s1600/nettuno.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyGB1v3hGewV5evxwKFif20_ix5CT7gKvttOeUA0I29fbWVyQ8c5xcQPRKJLAimlh6sOpBeQ8X6ucwYG-O1LEvvEuwK5n07u1xTRypTcKnRCiYyoNPFP19nQNMFUFxGAECWsCA85aK4mY/s320/nettuno.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Nettuno (Image©TSF)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alfa, Omega, North, South, Sogno Reale,
Nettuno, Le Mat, Osang</i> and
now <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> share this same genetic timbre to varying degrees. In
fact getting louder as the line has progressed. As if Stefania needs to
hear/smell something in the perfumes as they evolve, something that constantly
loops back to Stromboli where her dream began. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">After splitting the
line into Menditterosa Odori D’Anima and Talismans Preziosa, the perfumes are
evolving in elegant and subtly different ways, the psychology of Talismans
intimately involved with the creation of olfactive phylactery, molecular
amulets and nature we wear next to skin. While the Mendittorosa perfumes look
inward, taking an abstracted journey of soul and cerebral observance, the body
as temple, the mind as refuge. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> are devout apostles to
Stefania’s Mendittorosa cause, each of them bringing new and darker elements
that serve to deepen the profundity of the line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ApynYnOofarQtsgBpjtoYIKH6v40oGdHfqpMuwAdoz0zjmDn5D4F1JFWkpOSmOcpQRgkQXbDXPwG-Vhy1JDu8ODldItGOa6osOa69xYXGX9tB_HR5DCcpQNFZXoisNdKQqkL1aqiMBo/s1600/luca.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="772" data-original-width="664" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ApynYnOofarQtsgBpjtoYIKH6v40oGdHfqpMuwAdoz0zjmDn5D4F1JFWkpOSmOcpQRgkQXbDXPwG-Vhy1JDu8ODldItGOa6osOa69xYXGX9tB_HR5DCcpQNFZXoisNdKQqkL1aqiMBo/s320/luca.JPG" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Luca Maffei</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I am strangely
pleased that Luca Maffei has worked with Stefania; I’m aware of how seemingly
ubiquitous he seems right now in terms of Euro niche but what you have to
remember is that the perfume will be intrinsically more intriguing if the
relationship between nose and client is strong and founded on trust. If not,
meh, it is mere transaction. Luca’s work with Gabriella Chieffo for instance is
beautiful and innovative. You get a real sense of artistic discussion and
freedom of interpretation. The same goes for his exceptional portrait of iris, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L’Attesa</i>, he made for Alessandro Brun
and Riccardo Tedeschi at Masque Milano. There is a huge sense of sensual
liberation and joy in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L’Attesa</i>,
throwing open the doors to gilded ballrooms and hurling bottles of fizzing
gold-flecked champagne to the floor. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oP38Ej4M8DKHIeIMIj7gpXTNnhXUAAKOMTV2CbkK6WQ-gF8YvCdP3mO2JzFFn9BP2-dYiziOl7qJGn_zW1ZOSGH_h-MRewPEeIm5TVBwDzO2Cr7-jcKUV8e5I0x9WZ7RCS9roa3GYKw/s1600/MyLo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oP38Ej4M8DKHIeIMIj7gpXTNnhXUAAKOMTV2CbkK6WQ-gF8YvCdP3mO2JzFFn9BP2-dYiziOl7qJGn_zW1ZOSGH_h-MRewPEeIm5TVBwDzO2Cr7-jcKUV8e5I0x9WZ7RCS9roa3GYKw/s320/MyLo.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's MyLo (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<i style="color: #444444; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">MyLo</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">
and </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Nun</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> for Laboratorio Olfattivo are
another example of Luca matching his skills to a relatively low-key house that
prides itself on atmospheric and truthful compositions. </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">MyLo</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> is a Polaroid snap of white lilies, just slightly out of
focus, but captured perfectly in all their ivory, analogue beauty. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetype</i>.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">noun<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘Original pattern from which copies are made’</i> < from Latin <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">archetypum</i> an original < Greek <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archétypon</i> a model, pattern.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">1 The original
pattern or model from which all things of the same kind based on or copied
from; a model; first form; prototype.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">2 In Jungian
Psychology, an inherited pattern of thought or symbolic image that is derived
from the past collective experience of humanity and is present in the
unconscious mind of the individual. Also called imago. These archetypal images
rise out of the collective unconscious and appear in dreams, mythology and fairy
tales. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Adapted from the
Dictionary.com definition of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">archetype</i>)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHz8GqKMaHMwzq6unl7l4EBpa0a0A7ViGmSUZxKOS07ZU8alkQ3glr_qKoc7Dh_n03pcOWxPW4SjuHOQug7ZuxcqCQ9GxaptJFu7anuATgHHxL4Xs18NWL82DHjq5GZXAuhaSxduadYkY/s1600/archetipomirror2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHz8GqKMaHMwzq6unl7l4EBpa0a0A7ViGmSUZxKOS07ZU8alkQ3glr_qKoc7Dh_n03pcOWxPW4SjuHOQug7ZuxcqCQ9GxaptJFu7anuATgHHxL4Xs18NWL82DHjq5GZXAuhaSxduadYkY/s400/archetipomirror2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Archetipo by Mendittorosa Odori D'Anima<br />(Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Luca is a workaholic
perfumer and someone I think who prides himself on approaching each commission
as an opportunity to try something original or improve on a theme or concept
that perhaps didn’t quite succeed as he would have liked the first time round.
He is boyish enough in demeanour to pass for someone younger but it would a
mistake to consider him anything other than an acutely aware and stylish
perfumer with something of a playboy’s touch to his work but also a serious
dedication to the machinations and craft of classical perfumery. He is the head
perfumer at Atelier Fragranze Milano, a company founder by Luca’s father Marco
and perfumer Maurizio Cerizzo and the lab is professionally very busy and very
highly regarded within the niche perfume world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">On paper, despite
the obvious Italian connection and the fact that Luca has created work for
nearly all the niche Italian houses, I wondered what exactly the collaborative
rendezvous of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Luca X Stefania</i> would
bring to Mendittorosa. Now after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Architepo</i>
has launched and I can’t stop wearing it, I realise that a great scent has
arisen from the meeting of two quite different temperaments. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Emotion vs. logic, dream vs. reality</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shadow vs. light</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> is so beautiful and strange, I find wearing it both
tender and savage. It has elements of booming distance and intimate embrace, a
perfume of reflection and recoil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrocRannK8KuSR5AJ_wAhDjFKYMlENJOICW58pyrP7-Y0ir2RQO8_ao5VR5sTH3WHuJnnOyBb_RTrU2Ysum8pIO6tvAP2MM_if-zLCx6OsB45rApC_Ek3TcnZVYKDxGVqQUKcQjbbeU8/s1600/archetipooverhead2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrocRannK8KuSR5AJ_wAhDjFKYMlENJOICW58pyrP7-Y0ir2RQO8_ao5VR5sTH3WHuJnnOyBb_RTrU2Ysum8pIO6tvAP2MM_if-zLCx6OsB45rApC_Ek3TcnZVYKDxGVqQUKcQjbbeU8/s320/archetipooverhead2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Archetipo cap (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">At the heart of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> are two reflective accords that
Luca and Stefania are calling <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Burning
Flame</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Moonstone</i>. These evocative
titles might sound a little highfalutin but actually they are perfectly in
context within the themes and atmospheric mood of the perfume. As I set out
above, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> translates as
Archetype, a word loaded with multiple meanings, many of which are reflected in
flickering ways in Luca’s vividly shadowed formulation. An important leitmotif
in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Architepo</i> is Plato’s Allegory Of
The Cave or Plato’s Cave Myth as it is sometimes referred to, dealing with ‘…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the effect of education and the lack of it
on our nature’</i>. It was drummed into my head at university by a Russian
lecturer who felt anyone studying Russia and the Russian Revolution had to
understand it. I had to remind myself of the finer details, it has been a long
time since Foxy’s uni-days. I found an elegantly written <a href="https://medium.com/indian-thoughts/education-and-platos-allegory-of-the-cave-bf7471260c50">explanation</a> by a
student called Anam Lohdi, which lays out Plato’s ideas cogently and wisely. So
please do read it if you want a more comprehensive version. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Allegory Of The
Cave opens Book VII of Plato’s Republic and is written as a dialogue between
Socrates (Plato’s mentor) and Glaucas, a brother of Plato. Socrates describes a
group of people raised from birth in the cave, shackled behind a raised wall,
unable to move to the left or the right and or to see the people next to them. They
can only see dead ahead at the cave wall in front of them. Behind the wall a
fire has been lit and between the fire and the reverse of the wall, people pass
by holding up objects, models of animals and such like, all these casting
exaggerated shadows on the cave wall like a cinema screen. The bound cave
dwellers, having no reference points for what they are seeing have no notion
they are seeing shadows and reflections and instead interpret the parade of
presented forms as reality. It becomes a state of normality; they believe what
they see to be true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Socrates then supposes
a prisoner manages to escape but is nearly blinded by the light of the fire. On
his own, disorientated and angry he would turn back to what he knew and the
familiarity of shadowed forms on the wall. But then Socrates supposes another
scenario where the prisoner is reluctantly made to adapt to firelight and is
then ascended toward the brighter light of day outside the cave. All this seems
like torture, but slowly, looking at reflections of things and people in water
and the strangeness of moonlight is he able to look at the sun and know what it
is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This revelation is
something he knows he must take back to the cave and share with the prisoners
he left behind. Entering the cave he would realise he has lost his
dark-adaption and is blind. The paranoid prisoners would believe this is due to
his exposure to the world outside the cave and decide they would not make the
same journey as him. Socrates infers that if the shackled prisoners were able
to move they might kill anyone who tried to remove them from the safety of the
cave. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is a much-debated
dialogue and a fascinating one, examining the movement/journey from darkness to
light, ignorance to enlightenment, the stages of education and resistance.
Theoretically we all have the capacity to learn, but do we all possess the
actual desire to do so? The prisoner does not enjoy the journey toward the
light/knowledge, but the final result and awareness make the difficulty worth
it. It was necessary to expect resistance. From shadows on the wall to flame
light, light of day, reflections and the direct luminescence of the sun itself;
all these are stages of education, resistance toward acceptance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">We must therefore suppose
that once awareness of the cave shadows are mere illusions, crude reflections
of reality, there really is no returning to an original shackled state until
total comprehension has been reached. The truth you saw before was an illusion
created for you by others and now you must decide for yourself what is real and
what is not. For the shackled prisoners, still staring face forward, ignorance
is a determined bliss. They find safety in the obeisance of illusion because
they know of nothing else.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This allegory, while
complex, if you think about it is perhaps more relevant now than ever. The
Trump administration, Theresa May’s Brexiteers, the UN, North Korea,
pharmaceutical companies, newspapers and social media; all these are the
puppeteers brandishing information that so many blindly follow as law, truth
and reality. The shadows on the wall are relentless, a constant flow of things
designed to shore up shaky realities to keep the shackles masses subdued. Truth
seeking, education and the difficult exposure of reality is not wanted. Only
one version of truth is acceptable, the one told in shadow play upon the flickering
cave wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Thank you for having
the patience to stay with me. There is reason in my unfolding of the Cave Myth;
with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i>, Stefania had in
perfume terms a brief that seemed challengingly abstract in terms of olfactory
interpretation. Luca however has taken potent elements of Plato’s allegory and
woven them through his own world of guttering flames, flickering shadows and
the dirty, earthen scent of illusion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3Q4IMi5sfaerqaQtE33HhNkM9ySYrRrsAwcGdjO1bed41gMAcfDBCUr55SzM97B2h9F1VVM8jikLoLEXXTou1cAi19P7PWGY0wS4Vxi6YvKys4oLfuuYcPW1CAj9MgZdQVsAV5q27Jk/s1600/RitXArchgreenlight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3Q4IMi5sfaerqaQtE33HhNkM9ySYrRrsAwcGdjO1bed41gMAcfDBCUr55SzM97B2h9F1VVM8jikLoLEXXTou1cAi19P7PWGY0wS4Vxi6YvKys4oLfuuYcPW1CAj9MgZdQVsAV5q27Jk/s320/RitXArchgreenlight.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Archetipo & Rituale (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Each time I wear <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> I get the same vivid sensation
from the overture of gunpowder and snapped raw pea shells, fresh green tea and
a beguiling metallic effect. Not a ferrous taste as such, but the sensation of
being in a tunnel made of bright hammered tin. Then something electrical, a
burnt out plug or dust burning off a light bulb as it is switched on for the first
time in a while. All the while, everything plays out over that mineralised
ground and the scent of firestones. It is quite the mix of sensations, but one
that works for the simple reason that the materials are sublime and Luca
deliberately wants this jarring slide show of sensations to infect us with
excitement and just enough unease to echo that parade of manipulated shadows in
the shuddering light of the cave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Incense Super
Essence, vetiver (a note that Luca really understands) and a forest-smoky fir
balsam stagger the senses initially, making quite the pagan fire first
impression. I have some fir balsam essential oil in fractionated coconut oil
that the lovely John Biebel sent me and I can really smell the almost
dry-sizzle of back bacon and peacock bluegreen medicinal vapours I noted when I
wore his sample. Fir balsam will forever be associated with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Norne</i>, the odour that sent me spiralling
down the <a href="http://www.slumberhouse.com/">Slumberhouse</a> rabbit hole at the mercy of Josh Lobb’s mercurial and
darkly seductive talent. His scent of decaying fairytale cottages in malevolent
towering Nordic pine forests, being slowly devoured by roots, mould amid the
echoes of death metal music is still one of the most arresting compositions. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKSLjRjo-6Bp3nzDvR05-QK6MtSE8U8q8GMpFClyBVQIkAnFj101PfilnYQn2cG8Poy81QIgYkFKg7AYzu_IBykb7bMDl7yIVUxnqNTFhaG2yvwtR6aVsAkn6rCZf9opf9Xtqwjy-M6M/s1600/Fox+and+Time+Duo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKSLjRjo-6Bp3nzDvR05-QK6MtSE8U8q8GMpFClyBVQIkAnFj101PfilnYQn2cG8Poy81QIgYkFKg7AYzu_IBykb7bMDl7yIVUxnqNTFhaG2yvwtR6aVsAkn6rCZf9opf9Xtqwjy-M6M/s320/Fox+and+Time+Duo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Rituale & Archetipo chez Foxy...<br />(Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Luca Maffei is,
along with a handful of other smart niche noses, very busy and professional in
his approach to perfume briefs and their subsequent development. The team at
<a href="http://www.atelierfragranzemilano.com/en/">Atelier Fragranze Milano</a>, including his wonderful evaluator Brandusa Paulescu
are meticulously organised in their support of his formulations and processes.
2017 may have seen a lot of his work launched onto the market, but we also saw
a lot of perfumes from Cécile Zarokian, Amélie Bourgeois, Mark Buxton, Daphne
Bugney, Bertrand Duchaufour, Yann Vasnier and Alberto Morillas so that point is
moot. I am huge devotee of Luca’s work and have followed his progress since his
earliest days as a creator. I have a number of Luca’s compositions in my
collections and really like his style. His gift, for want of a better word, is
taking the highest quality of fragrance materials and fixing them like
gemstones into settings of splendour and discrete luxury. There is no sense of
overt theatricality or wasted time. This is something he shares with Cécile
Zarokian. They have different signatures, Cécile using couture methodology,
assembling and draping her materials closely to skin and adding exquisite
detail, the olfactive broderie and reflective pearls, in order to produce
perfumes that smell flawless and flow on skin with liquid grace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Luca is more
instinctual I think, building work with materials he is familiar with and then
adding an architectural detail that inhaled from the skin by different people
at different times will completely alter the perception and olfactive <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">appearance</i> of the perfume. The
discomforting saline & seaweed of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Acquasala</i>
and seared concrete fig distortion of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maisìa</i>
for <a href="http://www.gabriellachieffo.com/index.php?lang=en">Gabriella Chieffo</a> are sensational. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRWjLRdrY8No0XvpE6tBcH6nmNI1s_1J7Nhr9POmU-M8s4olN84NQrwF3ioMJ6cRDgOZqIYIxZNPQkY8OBX6KL0_a00b_G0DH74GIsgRiMTTtx-DVR0nDaC4NF2AmgYzwUBXXX-iHngs/s1600/ragu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRWjLRdrY8No0XvpE6tBcH6nmNI1s_1J7Nhr9POmU-M8s4olN84NQrwF3ioMJ6cRDgOZqIYIxZNPQkY8OBX6KL0_a00b_G0DH74GIsgRiMTTtx-DVR0nDaC4NF2AmgYzwUBXXX-iHngs/s320/ragu.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Ragu by Gabriella Chieffo (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">And <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ragu</i>…
it will always be a perfume I remember as utterly beautiful. Smelling it for
the first time was such a revelation; the dry rubbed oregano and basil effects,
pepper, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sweet simmering</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pomodoro</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mood</i> as my friend Jakub might say and an outrageous dose of
cashmeran. Every time I wear it, I marvel at its resinous souvenir strangeness.
The Maffei point of difference I think is taking a risk in using something
unusual to create sensual attention within his creations. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> is the shadow cast by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i>,
the luminescence of Amélie’s fizzing fruit-strewn chambers glittering with
golden aldehydes eroded by a darkness that flickers through with flame-cast odours
and an ambience of damp cave claustrophobia/melancholia. They reflect and
absorb one another with exquisite grace. Light, time passing and umbra. I wear
them separately and they are of course beautiful and wild with individual
insistence and allure. But I wear them together all the time… especially at
night. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i>; the
sequence determines differing nuance. I’m not the biggest advocate of layering
perfumes. Occasionally it works, but you really need to understand what you’re
wearing. Some folk are just naturally very good at it and instinctively able to
combine their fragrances either in layers or on different parts of the body,
projecting a complex and vibrant skin portrait of odour. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i>
seem drawn together, almost despite themselves as two halves of a troubled
heart; one side tenebrous and veiled, the other white and calm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The cave allegory I
discussed earlier is a disturbing journey when you imagine how Stefania and
Luca turned this philosophical treatise into odiferous motif inspiration within
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i>. When you read Plato’s
allegory it is impossible to shake the image of flame and shadows cast on the
cave wall from your mind. I had this concept in my head for weeks; only being
able to see projections and distortions of reality but unaware of any deliberate
attempt to mislead or cruelly induce a false sense of perverted truth, Plato’s
cave dwellers believe their world is the cave wall and shadows. You can of
course argue they are safe, even protected in their alternate, given universe,
constructing lives (such as they are), language, dreams from what they are
given or shown. There is no interference, no decisions to be made, no
questioning. The flame serves as light, maker of shadows and conversely the
maker of lies. When one person breaks free, it is this light that initially
blinds them and leads them on a fractious, ever brightening movement into luminescent
enlightenment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">At the heart of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> is an imago of fire, a
ritualised dry flame, oscillating in the mind’s cave; redolent with an austere desert
incense stained in cactus wax and the subtle perfumes of arid stone and mineral
weather. Those two mysterious Burning Flame and Moonstone accords are vital to
the Mendittorosa creation of this abstracted Platonic scentscape. Around them
swirls a dark and sometimes chaotic perfume of great beauty, lit by trembling
glow and dancing veil. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Burning Flame
accord has been created using <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sarcocaulon
Mossamedensis</i> or Bushman’s Candle as it is often called, a shrubby
succulent, and native to South Africa. A spined, Bonsai-type thing, it is
seriously xerophytic and has adapted extreme ways of survival in the harsh and
scouring conditions of its habitat. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">S.
mossamedens</i>is produces a translucent wax coating over its stems that
protect the plant from moisture loss and external damage from wind and
corrosive sand. Over time the wax is burnished to a golden brown. The wax is
flammable, hence the popular and alternative name for the plant, the wax
burning, even if the stems are damp. When dry and ignited, Bushman’s Candle has
a unique wintered sweet incense odour that is quite powerful. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Mane SA the French
fragrance and flavour manufacturer, is one of the only suppliers of Bushman’s
Candle essential oil. Interestingly at Esxence in 2013, a young Mane perfumer
called Alexander Lee showcased a fragrance called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.mane.com/news/scent-esxence-%E2%80%93-5-years-excellence-award-mane">ETOILEGANCE</a></i>, with Bushman’s Candle at the heart of his creation,
allied to rum, iris, osmanthus, tagete and Davana. The originality of his
creation won Alexander The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scent of
Esxence Award</i>. It is this unique arid fume that Luca places at the heart of
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i>, his Platonic flame,
casting shadows in a cave of lost dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A fundamental
message of Stefania’s perfumed œuvre has been one of self-exploration and the
acceptance of what we are. Perfume will always struggle to be accepted as a
serious communicative art form, but there is no reason why the combination of
materials, inspiration, art direction and collaborative perfumer cannot produce
work that is not only beautiful in many ways to so many of us but can also ask
complex questions of our senses and skin. If our flesh be canvas and perfume
the medium, the inhalation and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gaze</i>
if you will, should be extraordinary. We don’t all wear perfume to challenge
the senses all the time, like music, books and cinema we all need relief and
succour from the strident rigours of daily living. But personally I have become
more austere in tone and like my scents to have a certain intelligence or at
least a gravitas I can feel leaning toward me through the aromatic haze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJZPkRSw7P-t6GVcyM1SXFRyd4cImosFDRSbGHqa4hTquFA1FlmzfI4MQ6vP0ljaM0MZNaMzsX83tsCzEDsSfZNxj5FtSEIltfFcxcw_q9Edc02WP98c4MMbBsxb_NP2cMAuRtypUsAo/s1600/blood+prayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJZPkRSw7P-t6GVcyM1SXFRyd4cImosFDRSbGHqa4hTquFA1FlmzfI4MQ6vP0ljaM0MZNaMzsX83tsCzEDsSfZNxj5FtSEIltfFcxcw_q9Edc02WP98c4MMbBsxb_NP2cMAuRtypUsAo/s320/blood+prayer.jpg" width="292" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">My Osang hands...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Luca has utilised
the idea of Plato’s cave myth to create a rather unsettling but ultimately very
coercive composition of darker more densely perceived materials such as
patchouli, black amber, sticky labdanum and fir balsam and lit them through
with his two central accords. These materials in effect become the trembling
shadows played out on the cave wall. I have an image of a cave wall worn smooth
over time by mysterious hands; the air smells of damp minerals, like licking
wet river stones. There is a distinctive granular quality to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i>, something charred, like smuts
of ash and hot sand.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This weird moonstone
thing is more waxen as it appears, quite different in texture and momentum from
the rest of the arrangement. A single white candle on a cracked marble table
burns slowly down in front of a silvered bloomed mirror. A man sits in front of
the looking glass, his eyes blind and milky. Everything to him is shadow. He
dreams of a sand-filled cave and a parade of life over a flickering wall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1mzkZM5vuT2CPJkib6ALM4-aTbeFp2qyCPh3gcNh5k6jDXLTYbgGlbHHOqHJXkTZ2Ws0Eab75v04J6m8wzTQSthWzjWBJJN_PqJERqZo6POKTB5r44u6V8o9MhqzU_RQCzikenMTs4A/s1600/moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1mzkZM5vuT2CPJkib6ALM4-aTbeFp2qyCPh3gcNh5k6jDXLTYbgGlbHHOqHJXkTZ2Ws0Eab75v04J6m8wzTQSthWzjWBJJN_PqJERqZo6POKTB5r44u6V8o9MhqzU_RQCzikenMTs4A/s320/moon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Mirror Moon (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This arresting
embrace and contradiction of pace at the heart of this perfume is its emotional
crux. The chill sense of candles repeatedly lit and extinguished, unseeing eyes
watching rituals unfold. The rush of moist ore and pungent forest fumes. All
this wreathed in arid incense and a touch of Maffei enigma make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> feel intangible <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> brutally sensual in places. For me,
the opening cold gritty mineral rush is everything. It is rare to genuinely
experience an initial coldness, like clinging moisture in the air; it feels
forbidding and despite the presence of smoke and flame it remains for me anyway
a distant unsettling thing. This makes it sound like I don’t like it, but this
isn’t true at all, it is in fact very me, sombre, built in shades of
temple-dimmed shadow that wrap around me like a charcoal shroud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As usual when
writing, I wear the perfumes religiously; in this case the phrase is apt as the
duo of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> have a solemnity to their
olfactive moods that renders their wearings almost a strange embedded worship,
such is the allure and repetitive pull of the notes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It honestly took me
a while to fully click into these perfumes; this is one of the reasons why I
often don’t write immediately. The kind of olfactory work I like and admire is
sometimes challenging and I like to live with it for a while, revisit, and make
observations and notes. My opinions can evolve as time passes. It is a little
like meeting someone for the first time and being vaguely irritated but not
sure why. You don’t want to not see them, but at the same time you find this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i>, this unexplained thing difficult
to overcome. Time and exposure, familiarity, understanding, questions and patience
often offer answers and friendship, perhaps love blooms. You might look back
and realise that thing...that was the reason you actually fell so hard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOVe-hhCtbvdC6Jgze2XCgriJDSlOSXgBF1lkcewguxuo5HDFr8-5jp9FRM26qKJj-CfubXbuDEUXx2QGeRGd1eeunPzJQ64OzQ_-gtjRZPsNIiMHMsH6GvBHTNcEKy1_rC-cMBibdro/s1600/ritualecandledetail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqOVe-hhCtbvdC6Jgze2XCgriJDSlOSXgBF1lkcewguxuo5HDFr8-5jp9FRM26qKJj-CfubXbuDEUXx2QGeRGd1eeunPzJQ64OzQ_-gtjRZPsNIiMHMsH6GvBHTNcEKy1_rC-cMBibdro/s320/ritualecandledetail.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Archetipo (Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I’m aware that some
people don’t get the Mendittorosa thing and find the perfumes difficult and I’m
not saying this is because I know better. However I appreciate the artistic and
olfactive collaborative processes that have been rallied into creating not just
the juice but the packaging, caps, bottles, filmwork and continued aesthetic
development of the brand. As I age, I am no longer going to apologise for the
way I look, how I feel and my accumulated and quite particular tastes in life.
I want more intrigue from the things I experience. One of the most wonderful
things about writing on smaller niche and artisan houses has been the
opportunity to befriend the perfumers and creative directors behind the brands.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As the folk that I
have reviewed are aware my interpretations of perfumes are my own and how they
rise and journey through my senses. Poetry is an obsessive love for me and
decades of reading its forms and abstractions has coloured my thought processes
like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in vivo</i> staining. I am a failed
poet at heart I guess and strive in some small way to channel that ache into my
essays. In the end it all comes down to personal taste; you like, you don’t
like. You can choose to be outraged at the prices and lets face it some sectors
of niche are frankly obscene these days, but people are still buying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I write slow and
sure, savouring the pleasure of words, research and assembly. Allying this to
intriguing perfumes and processes of talented directors, noses and designers
brings me sweet, strange and meaningful
pleasure. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> are a duo of some considerable
impact, emanating from an Italian house at the peak of its storytelling powers. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflRtyOPwxxgMoRDGeJjry5RL6vwGCeS6012A3ghSdZ3EcQ5t5p9UwRnDHishq8MJjFp-rQ1MGW-wsSCMu0Ce4HgTb7fzeNmfFm4eWQFMiYst7kAu9HkkaB_oCNilAeN2ZUliO9h0wvAQ/s1600/ss1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="630" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiflRtyOPwxxgMoRDGeJjry5RL6vwGCeS6012A3ghSdZ3EcQ5t5p9UwRnDHishq8MJjFp-rQ1MGW-wsSCMu0Ce4HgTb7fzeNmfFm4eWQFMiYst7kAu9HkkaB_oCNilAeN2ZUliO9h0wvAQ/s320/ss1.jpg" width="289" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Stefania Squeglia is a woman haunted by volcanic dreams, searching to reconcile
skin, heart and soul through the fraught and slippery medium of scent-provoked
memory. It is an ambitious and some might say arch and grandiose calling, but
for those of us that wear the Mendittorosa and Talismans perfumes as one might
wear elegant selvedge garments in monochromatic hues of prayer and supplication,
they feel designated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When I wear them I
feel memorable. This is what I want and indeed require from perfumery. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">These two new
additions to Stefania’s universe are very beautiful and affected me immensely.
Not all of you will like them. But some of you will worship them. And that is
enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGOPCbtkgaF-8q3oN-MzQWIWibBKmOUJhtuxklXZebMSTHlV9yradV4JqA6n24Dil8KV0GYN77cAR97LvRrEBdlzZLMAHxhqBbRB3JfIWV_4RP6mF1nvg6s6REv1PloE8c_Yda-z4vEs/s1600/RitXArch3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRGOPCbtkgaF-8q3oN-MzQWIWibBKmOUJhtuxklXZebMSTHlV9yradV4JqA6n24Dil8KV0GYN77cAR97LvRrEBdlzZLMAHxhqBbRB3JfIWV_4RP6mF1nvg6s6REv1PloE8c_Yda-z4vEs/s200/RitXArch3.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>For more information on Mendittorosa Odori D'Anima and Talismans, please click on the link below: </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.mendittorosa.com/"><i>Mendittorosa </i></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">©TheSilverFox <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">January 2018</span><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-14487303526992874082017-12-24T21:50:00.001+00:002017-12-29T19:41:51.878+00:00 Strange Pilgrims: ‘Smolderose’ & The Chimerical Olfaction of John Biebel<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQJeLAZIYw3BBZmKsJ7eOCc2sncCrNLbLZWLnBxNpmn92c7FG9FAFKAuufK6j-kbaHjKZX_gef1mci_LroKJpMX5c7s3QSIPAb4jwBXe5eLZeilm_BtxOnIQqkixC5tKiAi4lg91_g68/s1600/JSP1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQJeLAZIYw3BBZmKsJ7eOCc2sncCrNLbLZWLnBxNpmn92c7FG9FAFKAuufK6j-kbaHjKZX_gef1mci_LroKJpMX5c7s3QSIPAb4jwBXe5eLZeilm_BtxOnIQqkixC5tKiAi4lg91_g68/s400/JSP1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">‘I am no beauty, no mirror
is necessary to assure me of this absolute fact. Nevertheless I have a death
grip on this haggard frame as if it were the limpid body of Venus herself.’</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Hearing Trumpet</i> by Leonora
Carrington<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>For Lucy Raubertas. Thank you</i>. </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I was alerted to the
intricate singularities of John Beibel’s work by reading a review of his
January Scent Project trio, <a href="http://indieperfumes.blogspot.co.uk/2017/03/smolderose-eiderantler-selperniku-by.html">Smolderose,Eiderantler and Selperniku</a> by
Lucy Raubertas, a trusted olfactive wordsmith that I take due care and
attention to read. Her blog <a href="http://indieperfumes.com/">indieperfumes.com</a> is an astutely written collection of
personal thoughts on American and European indie perfumes and what she refers
to as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">micro niche</i>, perfumes rooted
and blooming in certain places that have tantalisingly small distribution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">If I roll the names <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler, Smolderose, Selperniku</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i> around in my mind, they
become conjured wandering creatures, clothed in muted raiment of earth, stone,
forest, wild flower, smoke and morbid petal. They walk scented eternally in
colours of decay, rust, pistils, leaf, stone, seashore and woodland bower. Like
apostles erring in a wilderness of blasted paint, androgyny and eerie beauty,
each of John Biebel’s beautifully named perfumes captivated me the moment his
molecules hit my air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBdGZcunJ24KuVwl-TSoqOpC95K2NGK1Q0goIdT9-XPNMZHepaZ7QMqXM_gAhOic47aeAV4atjg8y-RXbfwGcrdAPsu6wtnMbYv2n0lF9lSDoE6p6j_s9wtcyv_JP8RjGU6I3Cr4tz98/s1600/JSPTrio.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPBdGZcunJ24KuVwl-TSoqOpC95K2NGK1Q0goIdT9-XPNMZHepaZ7QMqXM_gAhOic47aeAV4atjg8y-RXbfwGcrdAPsu6wtnMbYv2n0lF9lSDoE6p6j_s9wtcyv_JP8RjGU6I3Cr4tz98/s320/JSPTrio.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's JSP Trio...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">John is an
established painter working out of Waltham Mills, a former cotton and textiles
factory outside Boston built on the Charles River at 144-190 Moody Street. The
historic building is now home to about seventy artists working across a dynamic
range of multi-media artistic disciplines. He is a graduate of Cooper Union,
one of the United States’ oldest and most highly respected colleges, located in
the East Village side of Manhattan where he studied painting and photography. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgibegwlZBXHmw6ZThUZzyPnuWEJkQk7O5Gnax2MiRz-5sGpJFhdChzw8zlrezMaH5pO0m8lUJUf-VRjpgKOU7X8ZMi8VjlIn9nck91-HbKmxo-1OhUQGjhMSxH_StyubtKaIPkB9Fbc/s1600/IMG_6198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1334" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgibegwlZBXHmw6ZThUZzyPnuWEJkQk7O5Gnax2MiRz-5sGpJFhdChzw8zlrezMaH5pO0m8lUJUf-VRjpgKOU7X8ZMi8VjlIn9nck91-HbKmxo-1OhUQGjhMSxH_StyubtKaIPkB9Fbc/s320/IMG_6198.jpg" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">John Biebel</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">He speaks a certain
style of patterned chromatic notation, his collective travelling, musical,
sensual, linguistic and searching experiences are laid down in vivid and
arresting works. Portraits, landscapes but mostly an evolving series of urban
images, etiolated buildings and blinded windows, wires and trees piercing
collapsed skies. The cityscapes have a strange upward rush to them, a reach and
blur I find oddly moving. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUU4sEKJwvAZ5Dpx6gy8Zp3hyphenhyphen2enWJdGo51O2Nfl1sQ4qlkR12-GWRG0X50icR0DPvh3AO0Lmzx93SlSapbdIM-QDG6zekbNOW_fRzEpD3-11He2z-jYxbG7_MMfH0Z_33L7iTIefLvI/s1600/w-shore2005-24x24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="864" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUU4sEKJwvAZ5Dpx6gy8Zp3hyphenhyphen2enWJdGo51O2Nfl1sQ4qlkR12-GWRG0X50icR0DPvh3AO0Lmzx93SlSapbdIM-QDG6zekbNOW_fRzEpD3-11He2z-jYxbG7_MMfH0Z_33L7iTIefLvI/s320/w-shore2005-24x24.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">John Biebel<br /><i>Shore</i> - oil on canvas<br />24x 24 2005 Private Collection</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The work tastes surreal in its linework and movement,
the glaze of oddity, something just happening off canvas. As someone obsessed
with colour and how others use it I was intrigued particularly by the diverse
vocabulary of green on display in John’s work from mantis, pea, sage and
verdigris to absinthe, celadon, jade, moss and chartreuse. This flare for
chroma runs through his perfumery as a mix of olfactory discipline and scenting
outside the lines. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicCGuWBPRKdP-nFQIZPoFwDFFSwj7jqclcwWWvtr89Snyg9Ojks52qWhBf4-_pPwaxKanIQcmFnfuPVwjeiA2_JdHpYUy4U2-teL3Rc2nlDPUY2zyMLMlzA1ml00mUiEDkemY1yL1Z7hc/s1600/w-greenlandscape2004-20x24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicCGuWBPRKdP-nFQIZPoFwDFFSwj7jqclcwWWvtr89Snyg9Ojks52qWhBf4-_pPwaxKanIQcmFnfuPVwjeiA2_JdHpYUy4U2-teL3Rc2nlDPUY2zyMLMlzA1ml00mUiEDkemY1yL1Z7hc/s320/w-greenlandscape2004-20x24.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>John Biebel<br />Green Landscape</i> - oil of canvas<br />20 x 22 2006 Private Collection</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Like so many of us
with artistic dispositions, John has wandered and jobbed around including an
intriguing stint in Haggerston, London teaching English as a second language. He
is a one-Biebel band under the guise of Ichigatsu and a founding member of
Subforum, a design and research collective based in Cambridge MA interested in the
improvement of our environment, ecosystem, and experience through design. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnmWPfAnInyjkRpt40QzjSc6ctR1V89LbuJiJxckpkDqFt4uUw0j3YPJvQuH-mG5WraabDISNC1mYTy4AgCW8ZQGpR8D4YRxlQzwBIPO_UGQj6EFjy5j8MCzqgmaU7I73ZeIKG2NdVu4/s1600/IPBoyWithCrown2Web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="944" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnmWPfAnInyjkRpt40QzjSc6ctR1V89LbuJiJxckpkDqFt4uUw0j3YPJvQuH-mG5WraabDISNC1mYTy4AgCW8ZQGpR8D4YRxlQzwBIPO_UGQj6EFjy5j8MCzqgmaU7I73ZeIKG2NdVu4/s320/IPBoyWithCrown2Web.jpg" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>John Biebel<br />Imaginary Portrait, Boy With Crown</i><br />oil on canvas 2016, Private Collection </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">He does have a day
job, working for Pearson North American, an organisation that aims to promote
and empower human progress through learning, which if you stop for a moment and
think about it is different and more impactful than education. John is a UX or
User Experience Designer with Pearson, one of those slightly nebulous job
titles that seems on paper the epitome of modern HR office-speak, but in actual
fact the role is a important people-related function, focussed on humans with
all their foibles, weaknesses and arrogance, creating experiences for them
within organisations to enhance their working lives and of course ally this
with producing results for companies large and small.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I like these
olfactive artists who come to perfumery through other pathways, their skillsets
flavoured by ink, cloth, concrete, wood, paint, ceramics, herbalism and
photography. They bring stained and crafted experience with them and apply
their gathered abilities to perfumery, often from scratch as a kind of
challenge to themselves. The results of course vary but as I have said before,
the flaws are often outweighed by the sheer flair and imagination on display.
The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why Can’t I</i>? approach,
uninhibited by automatic years of rigid laboratory training. I don’t want to
imply that that one methodology is better than the other; it’s just that the
results are different and the people practising them are best suited to one
technique or another. Comfort zones are just that. Comfortable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8Q5CKcb6jdXeTr80qj1BpPpjzXCZoZiIarirJWdY58UfqNIQjYg9nsACTVHamM9NNnic7kVLEw8Tx7CMCV8YPIE6V6k2Kq0YMFaDBL_iCZekdv61zbrANju14BH0KerCmSd1dJnx82M/s1600/jsp+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8Q5CKcb6jdXeTr80qj1BpPpjzXCZoZiIarirJWdY58UfqNIQjYg9nsACTVHamM9NNnic7kVLEw8Tx7CMCV8YPIE6V6k2Kq0YMFaDBL_iCZekdv61zbrANju14BH0KerCmSd1dJnx82M/s320/jsp+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">January Scent Project box<br />for Foxy's 30mls. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As John is a
talented painter, Antonio Gardoni of Bogue Profumo is a designer and architect,
Bruno Fazzolari is a fascinating synesthetic painter, Hans Hendley is
passionate about analogue photography and music, artistic directors like Carlos
Huber at Arquiste are obsessed with architectural history, Leo Crabtree of
Beaufort as well being the drummer with The Prodigy has an abiding passion for British
maritime history, Dawn Spencer Hurwitz paints alongside perfume creation in
Boulder Colorado, Dr Ellen Covey of Olympic Orchids Perfume is a prize-winning
orchid breeder and also one of the world’s leading experts in bat echo location
techniques and the enigmatic Andrea Maack has always channelled her Icelandic art
into beautiful olfactory work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">John has been a
writer on Fragrantica since 2011; his writings have a strong emphasis on the
mechanics and chemistry of perfumes. He has written regularly on perfume
materials, perfumers such as Carlos Benaim, Olivia Giacobetti, Bertrand
Duchaufour, Jacques Cavallier, Sonia Constant and penned his way through an
intriguingly diverse range of niche perfume lines, houses, noses and artistic
directors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_PhmxBMgumTbBYnKdUdFAJAxUIVNJ9HKR-LuFynmHuyAdASSpooI7EQJ6D8MKzboQ_KIu1lxriZLFGLG6x3lUw9OBm28VUmUohJ3xzgo-PkxcdLTwZIWPMe4ER-S_lqGvAZB0ZH78m0/s1600/w-rosecoloredbooks_16x60_2006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><b><i><img border="0" data-original-height="936" data-original-width="755" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_PhmxBMgumTbBYnKdUdFAJAxUIVNJ9HKR-LuFynmHuyAdASSpooI7EQJ6D8MKzboQ_KIu1lxriZLFGLG6x3lUw9OBm28VUmUohJ3xzgo-PkxcdLTwZIWPMe4ER-S_lqGvAZB0ZH78m0/s320/w-rosecoloredbooks_16x60_2006.jpg" width="258" /></i></b></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>John Biebel<br />Bulgarian Rose Attar, Chelsea Physic Garden</i><br />oil on canvas 16 x 20 2006<br />Private Collection</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A close friendship
at Fragrantica with fellow writer Ida Meister has taught John much about the
synaptic and psychological impact of odour and how finely tuned aromatics can
alter our perceptions of personal environment. Ida’s writing is like cello
music, rich and harmonious, echoing with crafted meaning and the gentle slow-pulled
bow of olfactive instinct. Her years of writing have given her a huge
repertoire to draw on and when she reviews her mind peruses this library of experience
to create rich reflections that range in tone from gothic and operatic to
literary and homely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The gathered range
of his meticulous curiosity has over the years helped fuel his expert and
individual movement into perfumery. You get a sense in his reviews and
editorial of someone for whom curiosity grows incrementally into something more
emotional and tactile. It is no longer enough just to merely write about the
odours that intrigue; a desire to create blooms takes over and leads to the
January Scent Project, the name John has applied to his strange pilgrim
perfumes…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDOPydo054rwPqyt6Bv74bNirC9zErh8SKv2Jws9nREtRNH2IRd2VdjLJHwD8DMku9lYAFw1kCdiLaQPP5ufMBa3AJCLa0IcXx1ZYu4spjhnmjvfXY1F3KnEXd_ojycKgu7sIz_ygxzo/s1600/JSPTrio1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYDOPydo054rwPqyt6Bv74bNirC9zErh8SKv2Jws9nREtRNH2IRd2VdjLJHwD8DMku9lYAFw1kCdiLaQPP5ufMBa3AJCLa0IcXx1ZYu4spjhnmjvfXY1F3KnEXd_ojycKgu7sIz_ygxzo/s320/JSPTrio1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's January Scent Project Trio...<br />(Image © TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The first thing to
bloom from the fertile garden of John’s mind was the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i> perfume oil, launched in 2015. The transition to actual
bottled, packaged and promoted work is far from easy as many independents are
well aware, but for some loners and autodidacts, they much prefer the control
over all parts of their process and the security of knowing their imagination
will not be diluted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now in the hands of those not officially
trained in chemistry, we bring different backgrounds to this combination of
art, craft and science. Some of the results can be less than fascinating, but
others have expanded our perceptions into new realms. If anything, we've
learned that the mixing of essences is a level playing field, available to any
of us, and particularly open to the development via collaboration. So many
people have contributed to the beginning of January Scent Project through
conversation, contemplation and sharing. It's a wonder to bring something alive
from the collective good will of individuals bound by the power of scent. At
the same time, the learning curve is steep, and rightfully so. People creating
artisan scents should be making the best quality products possible.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This statement by
John, taken from his January Scent Project website is very important in terms
of how he approaches his work but also how he would like his work to be
received by others. It should also really be a manifesto for artisanal and
independent perfumers everywhere: …<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the
mixing of essences is a level playing field, available to any of us</i>… a
quiet yet seismic statement that pitches at the deep-rooted foundations of
elitist perfumery. A lot of classically trained perfumers would argue that
home-schooled or self-taught creators are not real perfumers or merely
dabblers. I would argue that often some of these perfumers are by their
self-taught introspective nature often obsessively focussed on themes and
creating distinctive work that mirrors their own experiences. Yes, obviously
tasking them to scale up and work briefs for large houses would be tricky but
why would they and what would be gained in trying to challenge and fracture
what makes them so interesting in the first place?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">John’s work feels so
invested with surreal life, I’m not entirely sure I want an explanation, but I
am constantly drawn back into his odours over and over, so search I must. His
artistry is apparent in the juxtaposition of materials and effects. His
creations wander brilliantly through a landscape of perfume made barren by
repetition, ubiquity and barely concealed plagiarism. The air reeks of tired
oud, generic locker room haze and sickly gourmandise. His quartet is veils,
masks, hoods and cloaks on frames of whittled white bone, leaf, metal, fire and
fissure. They speak histories of beach pyres, night deaths, hybrid fauna and
mournful stags with antlers of glowing green ivy lit by fireflies. Rivers of
moonmilk flow upwards towards flickering mountains. Flowers bloom like
fireworks, petals snatched by sudden winds. Spoor fills in with moss, seeds and
moist mulch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I actually can’t
remember now what I was expecting John’s work to smell like. Different sure.
Painterly? Maybe. But it wasn’t this dramatic visual response I had, skin
prickling and my mind careening into my returned obsession with surrealist
painter Leonora Carrington and her œuvre of dream shards and biographical
disintegration. Sometimes upon inhaling I am crowded with assassinations and
languor, other time it takes me longer to fall as I navigate John’s fascinating
connective alchemy. I know this is important perfumery because I feel something,
murmurs of familiarity, eye-catches of memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeoQklQwqNGfI8vl-boCItX1UzRnmPCE1pO3SoQp9sLeYAbx8FeIFREbyoSR9ysbJlomdUsSxUObuEqFeBl_iAd0Sr9ZeOpcddSsP7MMtzLx2n0DJj1j5SxaSZYgV5DGou7f5CngYkr5Y/s1600/SmRose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeoQklQwqNGfI8vl-boCItX1UzRnmPCE1pO3SoQp9sLeYAbx8FeIFREbyoSR9ysbJlomdUsSxUObuEqFeBl_iAd0Sr9ZeOpcddSsP7MMtzLx2n0DJj1j5SxaSZYgV5DGou7f5CngYkr5Y/s320/SmRose.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Smolderose<br />(Image © TSF)</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">To have one
beautiful composition like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>
is one thing, but four? I was sick with odourlove after my initial exposure to the
trio and later on when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i>
dropped. I wore them on skin, on sheets, in my hair, on clothes. Wearing them
at night, something I do a lot with fragrances I am writing on was darkly
erotic, lying amid John’s painted scentscapes, eyes shut against light and
monsters as his weather rolled over me. I began to examine how they made me
feel in the darkness of my shuttered room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Once I had made the
link between these complex and original perfumes and the work of Leonora
Carrington I found it virtually impossible to disentangle my impressions from
my often-morbid preoccupations with her art. She is without a doubt one of the
most compelling and misunderstood artists of the twentieth century, not I think
a concept that would really have troubled her. As a woman, her exquisitely
detailed and powerfully realised Surrealism was maligned by peers and on a
personal level the fabric of her intensely private life was ripped apart on
more than one occasion by events that loomed monumental in trauma. Surrealism
was strictly speaking a masculine art movement, intrigued; nay besotted with
the mysteries and shadowed caverns of femininity. Woman were muse, not the
wielder of brush or camera. The female surrealists such as Méret Oppenheim,
Leonor Fini, Bridget Bate Tichenor, Valentine Hugo, Dorothea Tanning and Dora
Maar were not treated well by male contemporaries or critics of the time, their
work often dismissed as overly emotional, whimsical and derivative or somehow
less then the big boy names like May Ray, De Chirico, Dali, Ernst and Tanguy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQAl01_IchKizrMH2ujyvsqD1okjoI_uFBJF9JUNhb1vQjYlijeb7EnuVzUkaXrHcn1-XDwtJPVSyJ2g_NTvcq7nHB-Yz66NZWI6-yVfYejHqptgQ-GepMHKtw-9eAtz_oKqDsIUeudY/s1600/6a014e5fb9e8aa970c01538f5c83d1970b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="700" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQAl01_IchKizrMH2ujyvsqD1okjoI_uFBJF9JUNhb1vQjYlijeb7EnuVzUkaXrHcn1-XDwtJPVSyJ2g_NTvcq7nHB-Yz66NZWI6-yVfYejHqptgQ-GepMHKtw-9eAtz_oKqDsIUeudY/s320/6a014e5fb9e8aa970c01538f5c83d1970b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><em style="color: #333333; text-align: left;">Leonora Carrington<br />And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;"><br />1953, oil on canvas</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My mother first
showed me a Leonora Carrington painting when I was a sullen teen. It was in one
of the auction catalogues she used to receive in the post. As someone who was home
schooled a lot as we travelled abroad, I was used to her showing me eclectic things
she felt I should see or read. It was so long ago I can’t remember the name of
the painting, but I remember the almost electrical shock of seeing a canvas
inhabited by such strange, hooded beings, creatures searching amid ornate fruit
and carriages. Arcana and mystery shroud Carrington’s work in troubling
calmness. The games and ceremonies played out in repetitive chambers, caves and
valleys have a hypnotic magnitude to them as you wander her dense output. The
art you see as a child haunts your mind forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8EZeNLM7UUBwtbKttU4cD8zALvy-0VnNg7ZLO0SgVaWEyuahEHz0MAODWeHVCQjEU8tPzyOtxMSNdsT5B1MX__Udivs5rRpYSJyK6vRl-9UhWDpKSR2GDYE9kwr4GrnhGG4I_nTG5lY/s1600/60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8EZeNLM7UUBwtbKttU4cD8zALvy-0VnNg7ZLO0SgVaWEyuahEHz0MAODWeHVCQjEU8tPzyOtxMSNdsT5B1MX__Udivs5rRpYSJyK6vRl-9UhWDpKSR2GDYE9kwr4GrnhGG4I_nTG5lY/s320/60.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box; color: rgba(51, 51, 51, 0.8);"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Leonora Carrington, date unknown. <br />© 2016 Estate of Leonora Carrington/Artists Rights Society <br />(ARS), New York</span></span></em></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Leonora Carrington
was a wild troublesome child, expelled from two schools and defiantly creative.
She was only reluctantly allowed to study painting by her family, her father
opposed it, her mother encouraged her but despite this she demonstrated skill
and a keen interest in Surrealism after seeing her first Surrealist painting at
the age of ten in a Paris art gallery. <o:p></o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; color: rgba(51 , 51 , 51 , 0.8); font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">“<i>I wanted to study in Paris where the Surrealists were in full cry</i>,” she said.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Her shock love in
the 1930’s for the older Max Ernst led her to abandon her comfortable London
life and family and flee to France b</span><span style="background-color: white; color: rgba(51 , 51 , 51 , 0.8);"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">ut t</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">heir profound artistic happiness was ripped
apart when Ernst was arrested and detained by the Nazis. She fled to Spain and
her experiences and Ernst’s subsequent abandonment as he escaped and fled to
the US with arts impresario Peggy Guggenheim, whom he later married, caused a
full psychotic break. Her parents had her sectioned. According to Carrington and
decoding </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Down Below</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">, the book she
wrote about her breakdown, both body and mind were shattered, assaulted and
almost eradicated. The use of controversial drugs like Cardiazol and Luminol
had terrible side effects including severe convulsions and treacherous
hallucinations.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's Carrington books...<br />(image © TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Through a convoluted
series of circumstances she cast up in Mexico and would work and live here
until she died. If you are interested in a more familial side to her story, I
would recommend a book called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Surreal
Life Of Leonora Carrington</i> by Joanna Moorehead, who wanted to find out more
about this ghost who haunted the memory of the family, an aunt she had known as
Prim who upped and left in 1937. Little did she realise this journey would lead
her to one of the most remarkable women in history. It is a beautiful read, a
closing of blood circles, of conversations, history overlapping and memories
gently lapping on the surreal shores of time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #333333; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;">Leonora Carrington</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #333333; text-align: left;"><i>Syssigy</i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: left;">, <br />1957, oil on board</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have loved her
gnomic work throughout my life and as a writer on perfumer I often drawn on
art, literature and poetry as inspiration for my essays. It wasn’t until I
encountered these strange pilgrims of John Biebel that my Leonora Carrington
submersion came welling darkly, wickedly back up.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Carrington’s vast
worlds of mythological and ritualised creatures seem both simultaneously
monstrous and oddly comforting. They are without a maker’s explanation. Sure
there are endless words poured out by art lovers, critics and biographers but
she herself remained remarkably silent on interpretation and meaning allowing
her body of manifold media to have its own authoritative voice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHJysmdZsDHlDUfjUd4DuFafZjOeCN6JwyItw2Pgo2fLKBqEs3Lf4la_YWD4iKJWrHxSv1GpkRoQ4ANmiCwdLhRd2TQSGVcGljdI8LqY9YR2RssGedjmqnKNV7eYi2NBwNc-gbW_rqYE/s1600/Operation-Wednesday_sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="949" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAHJysmdZsDHlDUfjUd4DuFafZjOeCN6JwyItw2Pgo2fLKBqEs3Lf4la_YWD4iKJWrHxSv1GpkRoQ4ANmiCwdLhRd2TQSGVcGljdI8LqY9YR2RssGedjmqnKNV7eYi2NBwNc-gbW_rqYE/s320/Operation-Wednesday_sm.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: right; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Leonora Carrington<br /><i>Operation Wednesday</i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><br />1969, Tempera on masonite</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have an on/off
love affair with Surrealism on the whole though; sadly much of it has become
wrecked by over-exposure and contamination by the charlatanism and rampant ego
of Dali. However, taking time to search amid the hinterlands there is much
broken, haunted beauty, particularly in photography and etching. We are lucky
enough in Edinburgh to have an important gathering of surrealist works
bequeathed to the National Galleries as the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gabrielle
Keiller Bequest</i>. It is a measured and thoroughly erudite connoisseur’s survey
of some the most important names in the movement including Carrington. The
associated Keiller Surrealist and Dadaist books, manuscripts and monographs are
now housed in an enigmatic enclosed ‘library’ room in the Museum of Modern Art.
It is one of my favourite hushed spaces in the city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The time I spent
with John’s sui generis quartet and the surfaced memories of Carrington’s
dreamscapes collided and merged. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose,
Eiderantler, Selperniku </i>and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Vaporocindro</i>
were so preternaturally crafted, they felt alive, crafted with instinct and
experimentation, some small amount of dreaming and a desire to see what happens
when you push and paint over the edges of your canvas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Carrington’s
universe of cowled, tangled processions, tabled rites and lengths of mystical
oddity in a trademark palette of woven flora, weather, eyes, hands, fur,
trumpets, webs, cages and galleries of gossamer sages have a deeply affective
language the longer you spend in their company. You find yourself lost in
wind-caught hoods like sails on storm-tossed boats, mirrors as beckoning doors,
crescents and minstrels and labyrinths. All have an uneasy mix of portentous
menace and innocence. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRsI4659uzQnbF-KZxAz7Nwygptald5QdBmEIwdexPy_K2BoI4IJ_ubNIXgZ3ufqKOyc7KqZ0_xh-myCNbMY-MhyC_285F9XxjeaBh-MBew2Xiwz7TVG4Y_EW5rlJ5OLgk0MBtVBCXjZw/s1600/leo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1041" data-original-width="685" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRsI4659uzQnbF-KZxAz7Nwygptald5QdBmEIwdexPy_K2BoI4IJ_ubNIXgZ3ufqKOyc7KqZ0_xh-myCNbMY-MhyC_285F9XxjeaBh-MBew2Xiwz7TVG4Y_EW5rlJ5OLgk0MBtVBCXjZw/s320/leo2.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: right; vertical-align: baseline;">Leonora Carrington<br /><i>1948, Le Bon Roi Dagobert</i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: right;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: right;">Oil on canvas,</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Surrealism is essentially an art of dreams and the
subconscious. The embers, uncertainties and edges of brainscape. Carrington’s denizens
are talismanic, obtuse perhaps and frustratingly inscrutable, yet within the Carrington
world there are pieces of such beauty as to pull rain from clear skies. Much
like my intense scrutiny process with perfumes as I plan and write essays, the
longer I live with and search within, the more I am rewarded. It is one of the
reasons I write less these days as I struggle to find perfumed work that really
makes me think and feel, or has me enjoying the right mix of words to convey
the precision and mysteries of beauty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWsD7646PmHgI_ZpvHfxWJNv4inboJqfw9Pcz1sTEO9KRtU3PWRX_WZ95p_My7ZdHKi72XwjQ0UigTNlFDlKcPV0PSmxtfPnsREuCaAGgsXAzFPpMF3u60J_Snlo6Fax1559g_3BNcy4/s1600/John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="750" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLWsD7646PmHgI_ZpvHfxWJNv4inboJqfw9Pcz1sTEO9KRtU3PWRX_WZ95p_My7ZdHKi72XwjQ0UigTNlFDlKcPV0PSmxtfPnsREuCaAGgsXAzFPpMF3u60J_Snlo6Fax1559g_3BNcy4/s320/John.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">John Biebel</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In bed one night
before sliding into sleep I looked through books on Carrington, the silence of
night and low light a perfect atmosphere for her haunted priestesses, acolytes
lost in tunnelled cowls, eyes reflecting loss and organic protocols,
crescent-moon faced deities dancing, anointing and simply watching with quiet
intent. The tableaux seem so ghostly to me, her people haunted by Carrington’s
own turbulent and fractured journey to a place of sanity and fecund creation.
Amongst this I feel oddly at home, a world unexplained by its creator and
endlessly explained by others, even a little by me here. It is hard to resist
projection and the arrogance of decoding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The January Scent
Project began as all things artistic do with curiosity and experimentation. I
think John’s exposure to a diverse range of perfumery as a writer at
Fragrantica combined with the way he creates his artwork gave rise to a
textured and abstract desire to build perverse olfaction. To perhaps challenge
what he had already smelled, laying unexpected materials like colour blocks and
collided hues, making them work by means of calibration, subterfuge,
environment and sheer chutzpah. On paper his formulae seem a little like
madness in places. They remind me a little of the work of Josh Lobb, the
reclusive lost prophet of olfaction at Slumberhouse, but only in the use of
certain materials; the resinous fir, sticky labdanum and that sense of woozy
spatial disorientation that you get when you first spray them. But the
similarities fade there; Josh has always been on a dark journey with his
olfaction. It is an experiment in how materials can be redefined and reimagined
in altered states. He is an astonishing talent but a wary and secluded one and
whether he likes it or not his work is perceived as art, exploring depths,
holes within holes, door-less rooms and the effect light has on captive human senses.
John’s sociability and ability to connect is another key factor in the growing
of his singular perfume concept. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i> perfume oil is a powerful
thing, a charred rose in a blasted garden as the moon rises. I smelled a borrowed
sample of this rolling around a bottle like age-old floral liqour. The oil is
an examination of the ubiquitous rose/oud dynamic, not necessarily my favourite
of things despite my passion for roses, however John’s careful assembly of a
more cathartic and scorched agarwood against the velveteen genuflection of a
gorgeous rose and rose geranium duo is quite persuasive. The oil medium dictates
a certain depth and linger to the mix and John’s use of honey, castoreum,
tobacco, birch and benzoin all really serve to ease out a sweet smoky drydown,
smeared with petal fragments and shards of citrus. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Using birch in a
scent will instantly impart a sense of vaporous smoulder, but you have to be
careful, even relatively small doses can destabilise formulae and overwhelm any
work achieved. It is a note I must admit to disliking more and more as I get
older. It pierces my senses somehow and flips my migraine switch all too
easily. In trace amounts and used with discretion to create an atmosphere of
empty Siberian forests and day old campfires for examples it might work, but
far too many perfumers, niche and more increasingly high street as well,
attempting to riff on ecclesiastical, oudh and whisky themes are overdosing
synthetic birch materials and the results are invariably pretty poor so your
eyes burn and your head explodes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Smolderose</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(Image © TSF)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i> eau de parfum. How much do I love this fucking thing? I am
obsessed with its odour of blood red roses ignited and charred on pyres along secretive
night beaches. I return to it over and over, worrying my skin to exhaustion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">elderflower, damask rose, roasted seashells,
saffron, frankincense</i>. More of a recipe for binding, blind love and burial.
I was so intrigued to know how the roasted seashells would smell; I couldn’t
really imagine how John had done it. I don’t think I will ever tire of the
sensational head-filling, heart-stopping, skin-thrilling overture where despite
a nominal pyramidal structure, cade oil and labdanum <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">smolder</i> up through harvested damp roses, everything drenched in the
extraordinary saporous marine-stained Choya Nahk, a very unique naturally
processed distillation that combines Himalayan cedarwood and roasted sea
shells. Over and over I am truly wowed by <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>,
from its very beginning it smells created, crafted, a composition of loving
difference. A room of burning roses dusted with fleur de sel salt crystals, the
trailing altar odour of frankincense and oily smut of rectified juniper wood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QODRk5cAG4FC64f2ThrtzoUnDB2AXieOZ9cG5vhCwdln87HI0zulmxmqxxNMndGnR883R4L1T6XYPd5JoNnPGOjJc_T03EW6JcdEnwX3KgIAwESQFRLcLT1TpKNsibtesHawXdtwO8Q/s1600/choyas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9QODRk5cAG4FC64f2ThrtzoUnDB2AXieOZ9cG5vhCwdln87HI0zulmxmqxxNMndGnR883R4L1T6XYPd5JoNnPGOjJc_T03EW6JcdEnwX3KgIAwESQFRLcLT1TpKNsibtesHawXdtwO8Q/s320/choyas.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Choyas & fir balsam...</span><br />
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have messaged John
a little bit since I bought my bottles and I wanted to known how he had created
that ‘roasted seashells’ note. When you first read it in the notes, it is easy
to imagine it is perhaps going to be a fantasy effect, an accord of established
marine materials that are familiar to so many of us already in perfumery. But
as soon as you inhale and more importantly wear </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Smolderose</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> you realise that can’t be the case. There is a true
delicacy of brine burning off the beautiful backs of scattered shells. That
odour of shells caught in beach fires and brittle to the touch as the flames
cool down. Choya Nahks are this and more, allowing John to add a very singular
and atmospheric dimension to his work without resorting to the sometimes
metallic and slithering quality of conventional marine materials.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What is particularly beautiful about Choya
Nahk is that it really does combine all the aspects of its constituent parts
without taking away or changing them. There is smoke, cedar, the calcified
smell of shells - and then that sometimes barely perceptible but persistent
smell of the sea, or more of a "marine" smell. This fascinates me
because it's a very rare smell to be captured by natural means, and perfumers
go to great lengths to make it artificially, yet there it is in the choya. Also
quite remarkable is how powerful this substance is. A small dose will add a
substantial amount of that sensation of sea and smoke. Finding it was something
of a breakthrough for me, because before this, I was creating smoke smells only
with birch tar and cade oil. These are both beautiful substances, but do not
have the depth and personality of the Choya</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">John Biebel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Choya takes it
name from the actual vessel it is created in; large specially crafted
earthenware distillation pots with twisted ‘L’ bend pipes to channel off the
condensed product. The seashells and sandalwood are heated together in what is
known as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">destructive distillation</i>;
the process as you might imagine is very labour intensive but the resulting
yield is incredibly potent, as John mentions above, needing only small amounts
to give personality or background to formulae. John kindly sent me a good link
to a short piece on The Perfume Mistress website, with info on the Choya
processes so do follow and read if you are interested. <a href="https://theperfumemistress.wordpress.com/2010/12/15/attars-and-choyas/">The Perfume Mistress: attars & choyas</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large; text-align: center;">Cade oil is a
wickedly volatile material, brutalist in smoke-concerned compositions. It is
the dark oily tarred residue that results from the destructive distillation of
a juniper, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; text-align: center;">Juniperius oxycedrus</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large; text-align: center;"> to be
exact. Calibration and an innate understanding of how it interacts with other
materials are vital. It tends toward the rugged, cowboy campfire scent, that
odour of night bonfire clothes when fresh sap-drenched wood has been burned. I
find it a less bitter and sarcastic note than birch tar, which has a
distinctive medicinal aroma when used in higher doses.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In the beautiful documentary
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Happy People: A Year In The Taiga</i> (2013)
a Siberian hunter make his own reduction of birch tar from sap and bark in the
forest. The boiled down sticky black residue is rubbed over his dogs, his son
and himself to protect them from the voracious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">moshka</i> or mosquitoes. I always remember thinking: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fuck</i>. The reek of rectified noir tar
coming off his homemade set up would literally kill me. Cade suggests dry brush
fires, popping soft woods and the quiet shifting of hot sands as opposed to the
claustrophobic forest fume of birch tar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The cade, labdanum
and incense notes in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i> wrap
around John’s rose like chewy smoke. There is nothing wasted within the structure
of the scent, notes layering, entwining around the primal carmine thrum. There
is an intriguing sulphurous odour from the Choya that mingles with John’s
beautiful basmati rice saffron note. This adds a distant melt of singed honey
pastries amid the rosaceous fumes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My skin obsesses
over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>, amplifying the rose
like petrol on flames. One of the things I adore with artisanal perfumers like
John is the sense of feeling connected, his personal imprint is on every stage
of composition. You feel like a ghost in the studio, sniffing close, reaching
for materials and letting your skin take the risk with carnal unmade mods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Romantic poet
Percy Bysshe Shelley wished upon his death that his body be burned on a pyre on
a beach, a fitting end for a man of such extraordinary elegiac language. This
brings me to the crux of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>,
my visions of an end, of a night beach fire, embers glowing in the dark salted
sea air. Friends gather around the smouldering woods, sombre faces lit by
conflagration. They have armfuls of roses, a favourite bloom. These are thrown
into the dying flames and for a brief shocking moment a rush of soldered petals
filled the saline darkness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYimmRfbqDN_wEXWfraH_7XoxRUEf-j1VceG2Vsa0-bUFlN0mzBWOiLkGGL7njjz-sWQSQ5UovIXLNob1cwh9YInxBKkkG1DfhUUn-7IfU_XMbM3sylTUZt0u8kqT6skBEUW47vd5xABU/s1600/theAncestor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="710" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYimmRfbqDN_wEXWfraH_7XoxRUEf-j1VceG2Vsa0-bUFlN0mzBWOiLkGGL7njjz-sWQSQ5UovIXLNob1cwh9YInxBKkkG1DfhUUn-7IfU_XMbM3sylTUZt0u8kqT6skBEUW47vd5xABU/s320/theAncestor.jpg" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Leonora Carrington</span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">The Ancestor</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This sensual wassail
of oceanic rose is Choya Nahk behaviour and I can see why John was so enamoured
of the effect. The dosage used in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>
suggests residue and afterburn, that dark flipside of gourmand you get with
charred rose petals, charcoal sweetness, metallic reduction of booze and burnt
sugar. All these things flicker through this beautiful perfume while a cold sea
mist rolls in, leaving traces of algal dew. I was quite astonished by the
Choya. John was incredibly kind and sent me some samples of various materials,
all meticulously labelled, including a sensational fir balsam extract in
fractionated coconut oil. Oh my. I have been wearing this as a perfume and
mixing it with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporicindro</i>. On its
own it has that profound smoky bacon richness and dark glittering malachite
green <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">taste</i> in the nose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">He included three
examples of Choyas; Choya Nahk, the roasted seashells material he used in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>, Choya Loban, a rooty
shadowed frankincense distillation and Choya Ral, a distillation of the Sal
tree, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shorea robusta</i>, which produces
a distinctive resinous leathery-amber material often used in Russian leather
and gentleman’s classic fougère compositions. All three have powerful odour
profiles and require a slight adjustment to the way I smell. I have written in work
about Mandy Aftel, Hiram Green and Tanja Bochnig at April Aromatics how
infinitely more connected I am to natural perfumery now after so much illness
and personal trauma. The treatment of raw materials, in particular floral
notes, seems so much alive and vital to me. I recently revisited the
ecclesiastical organic work of Rodney Hughes, whose rich, swirling perfumes at
Therapeutate thrilled me all over again and reminded me I must write on them.
These Choyas have this rawness of emotion and ability to halt you, suspended in
smoky magic for a while as your senses navigate the origins and nuances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygd32vI_xKirRldRESuIRVOJVbyX_BUkgnueelcyjBGfbnG48uyLrw6ZpJm9bmExblL0hBR9OI7yExOGuIztkwOXaFDkShWP5uybRZgEiFyFywAyjtoruNEuq7kiG5BZ9cJkgH4bvIZU/s1600/redbrokenrose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjygd32vI_xKirRldRESuIRVOJVbyX_BUkgnueelcyjBGfbnG48uyLrw6ZpJm9bmExblL0hBR9OI7yExOGuIztkwOXaFDkShWP5uybRZgEiFyFywAyjtoruNEuq7kiG5BZ9cJkgH4bvIZU/s320/redbrokenrose.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">redbrokenrose (2017) </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(Image © TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Nahk has fresh
oysters on a BBQ odour, the shellfish brine sizzling up and falling on to the
glowing embers. It is a very particular smell and one I’m not sure I even like,
but I still can’t stop smelling it. Mark Constantine created an astonishing
thing in 2012 called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord of Goathorn</i>
for the revived Gorilla Perfume line. I loved it. Many did not. A mix of
seaweed, basil, anisic tarragon and an amazing licquorice note. I’m not gonna
lie, the overall effect was initially quite shocking, gut-wrenching in fact. It
haunted me and when I reviewed it described how the fish-bone, burnt seaweed
and charred damp sand vibe was in fact the odour of Scottish west coast and
island kelp pits, burning seaweed to produce potash or soda for the glass
industry. Lord of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Goathorn</i> isn’t
exactly subtle but it does have the most beautiful dark, cindered drydown. You do
have to battle through that overture of singed kelp, but you will never smell
anything like it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I mention <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord of</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Goathorn</i> because when I unscrewed the lid of the Choya Nahk I had a
similar visceral reaction. Extraordinary. The condensed essence of a seared
reef of shells is magnificent and a salted breeze wet with marine brine you can
taste as you walk a windswept coast. The great burning beauty to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i> is the daring communion
between this anomalous distillation and the lush damask rose. It creates a huge
cascade of emotive floral effects, ably supported by chewy patchouli and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sambucus nigra</i>, or black elder, which I
think might explain the jammy, smashed fruit facet that comes at you with ferrous
rose and oud when you first spray the perfume on. There is just enough bergamot
in the top end of the construction to put the brakes on the rose rush; but
everything in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i> flows rhythmically
around the deep smokiness of the marine-haunted rose.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i> travels and metamorphoses with joyful power. It is not a hugely
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">packed</i> scent, but…and it’s a big but,
each of John’s materials has beautiful weight and life. He has arranged them boldly;
aware that each of us will smoulder with difference perhaps allowing us to
imagine a Carringtonesque figure of red darkness, trailing a cloak of scorched
roses wanders a landscape strewn with shells and sandcastles. In the distance a
shimmering wave seems to eternally loom, ready to wash everything away. Pieces
of crimson paper fall as he moves, turn into birds and fly away. All is
intoxication and dream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Eiderantler</i></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(Image © TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i> is a green rush of discarded moist brick walls, ivy gone rogue
and lavender lovesick with bees in a lost feral garden. Atrophying fir cones
and a wash of abrasive antiseptic mingle with creamy floral notes and sticky
sweet resins. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i> is described as an ivy fougère, which is an interesting term
but one that has resonance. I like the creeping exuberance of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hedera</i> or ivy; its ability to
greenswarm, claiming walls, fences and trees with is various shades of bottle
green palmate leaves. It can be viewed as decorative but I have never seen it
like this, it the foliate miasma of nightmares, not exactly parasitic but still
removing light. It has a strong hold over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i>,
a cloak of a thousand woven leaves.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ivy (Image © TSF)</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">For me though
initially it is the lavender that raises its bruised aroma from ancient fields
to gaze at us. Any nascent chill is balanced by elemi and soft hay. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i> does smell angry in places,
a breathing rhythmic vexation played out in lithe contrasts of lavender, rooty
vetiver, magnolia and aromatic oakwood. It suggests a forceful verdancy that
has grown unfettered for centuries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In a Carrington
dream I see a sea of stags inexorably raising their heads from misty grass.
Their velveteen antlers draped like baroque chandeliers with trailing leaves,
strips of moss, water lilies and tendrils of ivy. This eerie image rises up
each time I wear <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i>; it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seems</i> like an elegant almost stately
chypré reaching thing, despite the hissy mood swings, but there is something
off, a sense of alteration. In the dream, the stags become men in bone crowns
walking in a landscape of blasted trees, dust settling at their feet like so much
emerald mulch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In my notes, when I
first received the trio I made reference to the fact I considered <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i> the weaker of the three (at
the time) perfumes. But I wear them all so much, my familiarity now with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler’s</i> beauty made me realise how
deceptive and erroneous my original impressions were. But that is how I work.
Record everything. Be honest. Revisit everything and be ruthless. It was only
after two weeks of skinloving I noticed the sudden obvious sweet wine booziness
that bloomed so fabulously in the heart of the scent; a golden, viney Sauternes
lilt to the notes that plays so beautifully against the oncoming green lit headlights
of cashmere musks and hay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Wearing it sometimes
as it spreads out on my skin, I get the scent-sensation of something moving in
that secret garden, leaves swirling inside a tattered hood. There is gauze and veil
over bracts and buds on scattered loam. An odour of naked skin moving
lasciviously through blades of grass engraved with snail trails and dawn dew. All
this obsessed over later in the gloom of a disordered room.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xvwzEFHcrnlD8__RMVlKKIsqdDJTofIMFNDyZDkpk00Do7VkaFVJYZ9eoAnO4wF-6h8w4Bz_My8ZTu87IbETe8rTFSiteG-ktACXh9ETp_B0eeiSldg1sPkQxAQ1VHB91HLe2SIXGTU/s1600/Selp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xvwzEFHcrnlD8__RMVlKKIsqdDJTofIMFNDyZDkpk00Do7VkaFVJYZ9eoAnO4wF-6h8w4Bz_My8ZTu87IbETe8rTFSiteG-ktACXh9ETp_B0eeiSldg1sPkQxAQ1VHB91HLe2SIXGTU/s400/Selp.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Selperniku</i><span style="color: #444444;">(Image © TSF)</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> is perhaps the most enigmatic of the original trio of pilgrims,
a jilted bride, not vengeful but lost and seeking absolution. It is a shrouded
gourmand for the shattered and bereft. If you look upon her as she walks he
ritualised landscape of broken china and rendered raiment you might notice a
blur to the edges of her manoeuvres, a sense of neuroses repeated endlessly.
Shedding tears over spilled milk. Never has this adage sounded more vivid. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> must leave the altar in
search of obfuscation and erasure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I may have my
passionate heart bleed for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>
but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> has such hauteur and
creamy quiet. Faced with such silence, all you can do is listen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Only a handful of
fragrances have really created something on a par with the perturbing sensory seesaw
recipes of salt, sweet, acid, butyric, milkiness and floral confrontation. In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> John has succeeded in adding
an edge of white butter mingled with floating stone fruit, in this case apricot
or peach. Oily green cardamom and the licquorice shrubbiness of immortelle seem
to destabilise and force beauty at the same time.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4rk6jkPUtWsb5SM3KM1CgQNWPeAdJvA3-5CjHBVNDxW8Ctfwgg0eYPWL6eNTgdXM6AyHk4gu-9zMUDYI0r0GKfDjyvsQQjCsuEAo2VAAB6tfy0TYAiFNZbVQzn0A0u0C-bLdOI_uOsI/s1600/baruti1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="726" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY4rk6jkPUtWsb5SM3KM1CgQNWPeAdJvA3-5CjHBVNDxW8Ctfwgg0eYPWL6eNTgdXM6AyHk4gu-9zMUDYI0r0GKfDjyvsQQjCsuEAo2VAAB6tfy0TYAiFNZbVQzn0A0u0C-bLdOI_uOsI/s320/baruti1.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Image for <i>Onder de Linde</i> <br />I created for FB post</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The lovely Spyros
Drosopolous at Baruti created the utterly crazy/beautiful </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/thesilverfoxfragrance/posts/1334290296622291" style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><i>Onder de Linden</i> (formerly <i>Melkmeisje</i>)</a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">
as a sunlight & lime blossom hymn to Amsterdam. There are gorgeous moments
of pear cooked in butter and salt cast with hand-crushed white lilac in all its
shuddering cold grace. I always marvel at its strangeness, its ability to hold
me fixed in honeyed wonder.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FmNCcnzvpYGsCQlglvg154OvKJGCqwCvcKg59f9f8NAJmzM8xLksd6gb-tNvNpc_dNAwiy1Aar0RRZ6e_PcgGlEy8rEKaIt6AUKPlHgaqfb-TYnH5bALwjJoNbgkuuxu1NEekpPwvAI/s1600/rubiniopen2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FmNCcnzvpYGsCQlglvg154OvKJGCqwCvcKg59f9f8NAJmzM8xLksd6gb-tNvNpc_dNAwiy1Aar0RRZ6e_PcgGlEy8rEKaIt6AUKPlHgaqfb-TYnH5bALwjJoNbgkuuxu1NEekpPwvAI/s320/rubiniopen2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Fundamental by Rubini <br />(image © TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The other oddity is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/2015/12/disorderly-wine-fundamental-by-rubini.html">Fundamental</a></i> by Rubini, a project
involving the delightful Andrea Rubini, writer and perfume specialist Ermano
Picco and talented perfumer Cristiano Canali. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fundamental</i> is for my money one of the most original and finest perfumes
to have appeared in recent years and a key fragrance in the resurgence of
Italian niche perfumery. The risk and ingenuity of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fundamental</i> was thrilling; writing about is brought me immense
pleasure. Its very incorrectness produced exquisite audaciousness. Notes of
white local white grape and the attendant Noble rot <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Botrytis cinerea</i>), dirty boudoir powder, beeswax candles in old
Italian churches, vetiver, woods and a joyful explosion of tangerine. Just a
wonder and makes me so happy every time I wear it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">On paper, both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Onder de Linde</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fundamental</i> shouldn’t work, but it is the challenge of being made
to feel unsettled and all the moments of unexpected beauty in such agile and
audacious olfaction that reward us. There is allure in all. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> shares the same startling and
defiant ability to engage. Mr E. also reminded me of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eau Clair des Merveilles</i> by Jean-Claude Ellena for Hermès in 2010,
a salted vanilla concoction that had a distinctly faecal edge at certain times,
like diapers doused in cake mix and crowned in aldehydic floral light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Parts of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> feel blind; the hissy cypress
and juniper seem scattered and out of focus amid the milky roaming. But again
it kinda succeeds. That camomile note though. It is simultaneously commanding
and troubling. I can’t quite decide if John has overdosed it purposely or if
the immortelle acts like an amplifier. It’s a note I normally associate with
the scent of certain organic skin care lines and therefore I do struggle with
it. And do not even get me started on camomile tea, a brew that freezes me in
horror just by its very existence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The butter facet
really starts to warm up about half an hour into application just as the
tobacco winds up. This isn’t an overtly smoky scent however; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> has the mellifluous flavour
of air-dried blond tobacco that adds a suggestion of rolling, match-flare and moist
roll-ups. The subtle smear of dairy is deftly controlled, it feels almost
accidental, something that came out of the milk/latone and sandalwood
materials. But whatever the genesis, mixing it on skin with ripened apricot,
spices, fougère notes and the spiky citrus of petitgrain is both savage and
comforting. I am dazzled by it and also a little disrupted. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> wears like three perfumes in
one, each of them flowing in and around one another with strange ease. John has
great control over his materials, much like his paint, aware of how things
might or might not cohere. Using skin as canvas is a bigger risk, as each is different,
as we all interpret the notes in our own way much as we decode and process the
colour palette and symbolism in a finished artwork. There is intangibility in
all four January Scent Project perfumes and this is a good and fascinating
thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2hIBhF9MxP777ZYIEbqGIRJf0bTey8079r5oIRyOG5M4qz_9OXILB8nyfAfBdmzcxMJY8IXcoBMOmvBm0uRFEjAeYQsx8TwTJ_8rfkMBHdTcd6BnVVjqfCpTEDX_6zQAN7izYAUZI0o/s1600/IMG_9908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="981" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2hIBhF9MxP777ZYIEbqGIRJf0bTey8079r5oIRyOG5M4qz_9OXILB8nyfAfBdmzcxMJY8IXcoBMOmvBm0uRFEjAeYQsx8TwTJ_8rfkMBHdTcd6BnVVjqfCpTEDX_6zQAN7izYAUZI0o/s320/IMG_9908.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The queasy dialogue
of this twisted gourmand pilgrim will always be one of dislike and craving;
shuddering and falling on the bottle like the skin of a returning lover. The
final stages are lovely, white and opaque, the fruit drops to malleable
chalkiness and the perfume has the gentle texture of a whitewashed window where
the pigment has faded, leaving behind a brume of particles on the glass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The instinctive
surrealism of John’s techniques and imagination is outstanding. You can sense
the joy and genuine interest he has in his craft. He is making no great claims
about his status as a perfumer, it is not a hobby as such, the work is too damn
beautiful for that, but creating olfaction of this quality and singularity
while working and maintaining a career as a painter and his day job proves the
sheer dedication he has and also the addictive pull of artisan perfumery. His
modesty and generosity are rare moreish things and for now I think January
Scent Project is just that, a project where John explores his abilities to
manufacture worlds that smell of astonishment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWf55ts8RxrLuK7DgYuUteMWKYCjOto5Kso66YVNuImrv-3in92eOlJARj3aA2NNw8cAiJ-oQOBh9z3FymrOzpuqMR8XMplODOemrrWcFWvyubiK3VBoKBGRTAZdoLPuQn6flGjYOf1S8/s1600/VapLilac1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1527" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWf55ts8RxrLuK7DgYuUteMWKYCjOto5Kso66YVNuImrv-3in92eOlJARj3aA2NNw8cAiJ-oQOBh9z3FymrOzpuqMR8XMplODOemrrWcFWvyubiK3VBoKBGRTAZdoLPuQn6flGjYOf1S8/s320/VapLilac1.JPG" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Vaporocindro</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Now I must confess
this essay has taken me much longer than I thought, partly because I was side-tracked
by photography and the weary machinations of pain management but also because
John launched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i>, a scent
of ashen lilacs and I couldn’t decide if I should just post the essay without
my thoughts on this crazy sensuous scent or take my time because it is a
labyrinthine aroma that I needed time to live with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I opted to wait and
spent a month in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i>. It was
worth the pause and scrutiny. Again John has taken a risk trying to marry the
oily suffocation of an imagined (to my nose) blue lilac and smoke. It has the
most intense openings of all four of John’s perfumes, a huge green chocolate
zoom with shards of coffee. The lilac is glorious, shockingly photorealistic
for a moment before fracturing into abstraction. The tight flowers smell
indigo, bruise blue, their scent deliciously assisted by the black pepper, a
scent of spongy dried apple rings and the reverential surge of jonquil with its
honeyed earth tones that John has used to really emphasise the narcissus/lilac
personality of this very unique perfume. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin3BrI5SYM3inpfGFoLVg8Um_2a2shl0n_88x8QN7qgOXWyZvQ1BAt16YMuhuzXW3_n6TcaSy9p6P0LSrQa-wi0nkh99fKStFhJ_ASAtMtMl5j8a2xWqA8Q24_Tg0Bu2Kvx2c6_8r242Y/s1600/EnlightLilac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="680" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin3BrI5SYM3inpfGFoLVg8Um_2a2shl0n_88x8QN7qgOXWyZvQ1BAt16YMuhuzXW3_n6TcaSy9p6P0LSrQa-wi0nkh99fKStFhJ_ASAtMtMl5j8a2xWqA8Q24_Tg0Bu2Kvx2c6_8r242Y/s320/EnlightLilac.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">l i l a c </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The lilac note
really is something. It is not the ephemeral haze of Olivia Giacobetti’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">En Passant</i>, but a more robust
inflorescence of hypnotic panicles. The scent of lilac (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">syringa vulgaris</i>) varies from species to species and I always, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i> stop and smell lilac when I see
it. The scent ranges from almonds and wet eggshell paint to rose jam, raw comb
honey and mulchy white lilies. John’s lilac note is this BOOM…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chocolat vert</i>… Green beautiful
chocolate. Bitter cocoa meets absinthe. The fullness of this doesn’t last too
long, just long enough to startle and reset your perceptions of how a floral
perfume might be made and indeed develop on skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitJpdnwA0YhFBT1VPmD6H2ti3pWg1oxLFcPDIn0IsmnqOVnBGMPid3TQJHo25K4y0UZnzlTIS-kwEHA7Yh6b6KUZdzKDFv8jxb1orQAm_PhRY7a0_X_NUp5z7VzWTeWPNCyrM9D0Dc0Q/s1600/IMG_9909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="971" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgitJpdnwA0YhFBT1VPmD6H2ti3pWg1oxLFcPDIn0IsmnqOVnBGMPid3TQJHo25K4y0UZnzlTIS-kwEHA7Yh6b6KUZdzKDFv8jxb1orQAm_PhRY7a0_X_NUp5z7VzWTeWPNCyrM9D0Dc0Q/s320/IMG_9909.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Thankfully the
listed blackcurrant is underplayed. I can sense it’s creeping, hedgerow
pissiness in the sharp high shriek of lilac overture where for a suspended
moment <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i> smells like a
olfactive papercut before the green chocolate explodes. Davana usually adds
sort of rummy boozy note to compositions; here in conjunction with a very dry
sandalwood and cumin combo, its laid back smoothness works beautifully against
the furious garden of opening lilac. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The oud takes it
time to smoulder and reduce the lilac to fragrant ashes. The eerie burn uses
turmeric to ramp up a sensation of strange aridness. The singed lilac smells of
burnt plastic, powder and scorched sap. This transition from violent floral to
haunting incense haunted by the flowers burned is the whole raison d’être of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vapours of cinders</i> if you fancy. John never once allows his perfume
to lose its key personality of sacrificial <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">syringa
vulgaris</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPpr84zu2ZOpyJUXgO1ULZfVe3JcPYWFcJafB_K3liUYUYfW5QioctBNJ_S7w5LJam71szU2KEGmC84LX8YJm2ybFnzls3yX4Gg2vo3-gwgz08I5ubZeJVJhbpGRlmQCIqZA2p8pzLAk/s1600/lilacDraw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="741" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWPpr84zu2ZOpyJUXgO1ULZfVe3JcPYWFcJafB_K3liUYUYfW5QioctBNJ_S7w5LJam71szU2KEGmC84LX8YJm2ybFnzls3yX4Gg2vo3-gwgz08I5ubZeJVJhbpGRlmQCIqZA2p8pzLAk/s320/lilacDraw.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i> Pilgrim walks a landscape
of abandoned ornamental gardens, their formality scoured by mauve dust storms.
He carries a burning bouquet of tumbling lilac blossom, trailing an odour of
strange and recurrent magnitude. If you are privileged enough to see him, he
will be a creature of mist and grain, barely visible against the rocks,
courtyards, caves and lakes, except for his incandescent bouquet. There are
sparks of charred blossom I just adore, mixed with fresh oily petals and the
rush of finger-rubbing leaves and petals. As the end nears the coffee note
flickers and I like the salted transparency of ambergris in the base. It smells
like the tinctures that Cécile Zarokian uses, which are incredibly beautiful.
She used them in her work for Panouge and the Jacques Fath collection. Any measured
and expert use of ambergris tincture will impart such a velveteen curtain drop
on your scent and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i> is no
exception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As is my want, I
wore <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i> to bed and after
seven hours of fitful sleep I woke to an inner wrist still tinted with traces
of lilac smoke. The Pilgrim reverts back to the ghosts of these addictive
haunting flowers. He sits a table of glass, wearing a veil of palest indigo
that flows onto the floor like water. Beyond him trees flame as lanterns for
the weary, ashes dropping to the ground, building up like banks of snow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">So I completed this
quartet in wonderment, so deeply delighted I have John Biebel’s work in my
collection. I need to add a bottle of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vaporocindro</i>
and I am complete. Each time I return to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose,
Selperniku</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i> I
revel in the innovation, freshness and challenge of the odours. The charred
seashell and damask rose drama of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>
is perhaps the most intriguing effect I have smelled all year. The
claustrophobic lavender-soaked intensity of a secret garden, walls carpeted in
ivy, hands wrecked from tearing at vines to find a door; all this in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eiderantler</i> with dream stags and their
antlers draped in battle greenery. And milky, smeared <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Selperniku</i> I view through old misted glass, an utterly unique
experience of salt, ghostly butter, stone fruit and tobacco; a perfume that
both confronts and entices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Pilgrims in blasted
landscapes, enigmatic, singular and richly imagined. They wander olfactive plane
that will seem unfamiliar and odd to some, emotionally connective to others.
Great perfumery for me is about recognising a creator’s genuine joy, pride and
intelligence in his olfactive world. And beauty, there has to be beauty. We all
have our own markers so we will all wear, react to and interpret John’s work in
different ways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The surrealism of
his olfactive assembly is profoundly beautiful, daring and amusing. This sort
of thoughtful perfume making is rare. I will sign off this late essay saying
how much I enjoyed writing it, despite struggling at times with words to quite
do John’s work justice. So, stained in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Smolderose</i>,
I rest my tired, tattooed fingers and wait for sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>For more information on John Beibel and January Scent Project, please click on the links below:</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://www.johnbiebel.com/">John Biebel - Painter</a></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.januaryscent.com/"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>January Scent Project</i></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">©TheSilverFox <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #444444;">24 December
2017</span><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-41418042981939507822017-11-13T22:43:00.000+00:002017-12-24T18:20:36.895+00:00Lay Me Down in Burning Purple: ‘MEM’ by Bogue Profumo (Interlude IV)<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6QTq9tXHbO3bMwTjHRFxoR3TGm1VCQa2XnfJyBkqsYhjCEdMHPMwE4GdI8i6TOcX_f-jlgnc_Cg2P2hq3MabhIgt2zDksHwyXmzbyxpucC8biaInz5fJh3b3ck_7n7el94Qnm-SViCo/s1600/lavenderbed1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1064" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6QTq9tXHbO3bMwTjHRFxoR3TGm1VCQa2XnfJyBkqsYhjCEdMHPMwE4GdI8i6TOcX_f-jlgnc_Cg2P2hq3MabhIgt2zDksHwyXmzbyxpucC8biaInz5fJh3b3ck_7n7el94Qnm-SViCo/s400/lavenderbed1.JPG" width="265"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">But you, you foolish girl, you have gone home<br>
To a leaky castle across the sea, -<br>
To lie awake in linen smelling of lavender,<br>
And hear the nightingale, and long for me</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">Edna St Vincent Millay<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">For Foxy any launch
by Bogue Profumo and the bearded Maestro Antonio Gardoni is akin to the
completion of a complex and long awaited art installation or the revelation of
a secret building project. All of which is very fitting given Antonio’s day job
as the creative founder of Studio AG an architecture and design studio in
Brescia, Italy where he grew up and went to university. He is currently London-based
but spends a lot of time back and forth to Brescia where he is still a
professor of industrial and interior design. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">(Image©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-size: large;">Everything about
Antonio and Bogue is steeped in alchemical charm. He originally came across a
cache of forty vintage perfumery bases and formulations in the basement of an
Italian property thanks to the timely tip off from an antique dealer. These
redolent recipes had assumed a whiff of dank time and darkness. Antonio
patiently and strategically added modern elements, honing and editing the
results to create workable and intriguing olfaction.</span></span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/11/lay-me-down-in-burning-purple-mem-by.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-11200098423837719122017-10-29T17:09:00.002+00:002018-01-09T18:15:45.950+00:00O Sylvan Sorceress I Know You Walk the Woods At Twilight: ‘Dryad’ by Papillon Perfumery<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTw2suVZHgyiIv_EXAwF1SwL9jDIWu_F3zJjuD6c9Lw6E49NwX-id0wtp-GHl1q0rwvwsvJa9LYjO73UJxoHNmxzf_kGOg-5zAjGa33MLqOAxOyI5rKEbZZckeTlyKKcANQ_4xksiPzFk/s1600/screamingtree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="941" data-original-width="664" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTw2suVZHgyiIv_EXAwF1SwL9jDIWu_F3zJjuD6c9Lw6E49NwX-id0wtp-GHl1q0rwvwsvJa9LYjO73UJxoHNmxzf_kGOg-5zAjGa33MLqOAxOyI5rKEbZZckeTlyKKcANQ_4xksiPzFk/s320/screamingtree.jpg" width="225"></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘Lie still, lie still, O passionate heart,
lie still! <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">O Melancholy, fold thy raven wing! <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">O sobbing Dryad, from thy hollow hill <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Come not with such despondent answering!</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(From ‘The Burden of
Itys’ by Oscar Wilde)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Dryad</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> is a pagan thing, rooty, foliate and spellbound, forged in the
crucible of the New Forest, an ancient hunting ground stained with blood and
druidic oblations, trees splashed with vital fluids offered up for prosperity,
fertility, sex, weather, crop life and safety. This is where you will find Liz
Moores one of the most artistic and talented perfumers currently working in
contemporary perfumery. Like an increasingly small number of independent makers
like Bruno Fazzolari, her good friend Antonio Gardoni, Mandy Aftel, Hans
Hendley, Dawn Spencer Hurwitz and John Biebel, Liz is responsible for
everything in regards to her perfume house Papillon Perfumery, from the sourcing
of materials, tincturing and filtering to filling samples, bottling, packaging
and promotion.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO0zqkj0v52TgXMTCC-q7BqrnaIDmrQnzo_y40pgvAWmbPEyNvKEOywWuD2CNtlr9u4j9W-2VGYgbm8lUzhaDEizGDf2vgNeWO6wuFWu1NgRNwPyWzUgj7IJUpjfVs1QNA50op8L5kdE/s1600/2017-05-01+19.47.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO0zqkj0v52TgXMTCC-q7BqrnaIDmrQnzo_y40pgvAWmbPEyNvKEOywWuD2CNtlr9u4j9W-2VGYgbm8lUzhaDEizGDf2vgNeWO6wuFWu1NgRNwPyWzUgj7IJUpjfVs1QNA50op8L5kdE/s400/2017-05-01+19.47.42.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Beautiful image of Dryad © Thomas Dunckley<br><a href="https://thecandyperfumeboy.com/">@ Candy Perfume Bo</a>y</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I think <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dryad</i> is the closest thing we will get
to a confession from perfumer Liz Moores as to her true desirous state. A
desire perhaps sometimes to walk out into her beloved forest and be swallowed
up, consumed by the foliage, roots and buds. She is many things, sensual forest
dweller, mother, wife, lover, voluptuary, businesswoman, realist, role model,
fierce friend and emotive animal whisperer. Owls, rabbits, cats, dogs, pythons
and I imagine anything really with wings, claws and fangs falls under the
enchantment of Liz Moores. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrQL-iLgWnIZDQlKuOMYWKSY3veM5oaaOUwZZ9fEbIy-B-WyouYKY9d2jal_r_T4QBzjMm5vlu8D-UMs9PCYKS3pQkBk6541FN1HlloiLR_8Ndh0BVELZweruyNBf8o2LwYD_JN0WZfk/s1600/overlay1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="750" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrQL-iLgWnIZDQlKuOMYWKSY3veM5oaaOUwZZ9fEbIy-B-WyouYKY9d2jal_r_T4QBzjMm5vlu8D-UMs9PCYKS3pQkBk6541FN1HlloiLR_8Ndh0BVELZweruyNBf8o2LwYD_JN0WZfk/s320/overlay1.JPG" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Liz 'Dryad' Moores </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have loved Liz’s
work from the first moment I smelled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/2014/02/the-scent-of-wicked-lady-tobacco-rose.html">Tobacco Rose</a></i>, her third Papillon creation launched in 2014. The unfolding of
rosaceous wax and carmine excretions mesmerised me. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Anubis</i> her precious first creation was a startling and passionate
debut, a perfume imbued with something intangible, a purity of intent, yet
oozing oriental sensuality and an aura of hard graft and accomplishment. But
that thrashed rose smelled like bloodstained skies studded with pollen-weary
bee stars. My bottle has simmered in the darkness of my study and has become
more waxen and lipsticked. Not polite glossy lipstick, but that sanguine
overkill dragged off with the back of a hand in the glare of a neon club
bathroom as walls sweat and bounce. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBWP46nYuu0oEmTIG28x5lOrj1pabt7odCo94j6CQbtAPSwKni59R2gaAl4sh_Rb_-uWIgKRjcnUqggE5vDFluc7OFrrXbhx5yX8BDVPMr230c5NcwGPkYikoRQNRkbeYT3AMdejrc-Y/s1600/IMG_8553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1328" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBWP46nYuu0oEmTIG28x5lOrj1pabt7odCo94j6CQbtAPSwKni59R2gaAl4sh_Rb_-uWIgKRjcnUqggE5vDFluc7OFrrXbhx5yX8BDVPMr230c5NcwGPkYikoRQNRkbeYT3AMdejrc-Y/s320/IMG_8553.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's Tobacco Rose (Image©TSF)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Then came <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Salome</i>, the candlelit disturbance,
whispering words of persuasive pornography. A unsettling hit for Liz, redolent
of private, urgent sex and things deemed to too daring to share outside a
shattered bedroom. At times it seemed too too genital, too rutting to flout in
public places. Yet something in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Salome</i>
clicked in so many of us, that animalic sliver of us that always denies
watching porn or potentially cheating on lovers. It is one of the few seriously
erotic perfumes made in the last twenty years. The trick is that each of us
feels immensely special in it, as if Liz had created something bespoke and
confidential that we alone can revel in.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/10/o-sylvan-sorceress-i-know-you-walk.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-75222165122442284752017-10-08T23:30:00.000+01:002017-10-29T17:59:25.048+00:00Wood, Cloth & The Scent of Heritage: Floris X Turnbull & Asser '71/72'<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br></span>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘Masculine exhalations are, as a rule,
stronger, more vivid, more widely differentiated than those of women. In the
odour of young men there is something elemental, as of fire, storm, and salt
sea.</i>’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Helen Keller <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This is the second
time in recent years I have been surprised by a Floris perfume. I’m not saying
there is anything mediocre about the collection but the perfumes and colognes
and Foxy have never quite clicked. Perhaps I have just spent enough time with
them to see or sniff beyond a perceived mantle of traditional respectability
and just a little too vintage heritage that is both its raison d’être and
perhaps too it’s weak point. Interestingly though things are carefully shifting
and altering at Floris, renovations, brave launches, subtle brand and store
edits, tweaks to the PR atmosphere and promotion of the house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">All this is
happening slowly. Slow is good, it allows for adaptation, appreciation and
reconciliation. It also demonstrates an awareness on behalf of Floris that
certain things needs to change but only permissible in a discreet honest way,
nothing outré or misleading. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PFy2iCJby20pQVjaEEcuhB8kOvpnlZ1sbSWyQI004NpWnkQdHdNUSAa1xJC5m7kQqcBrODzyWD2cqbNLhBGCqljiVR808jKtHZhq55JZWkn66p16ixFSCol9t4VR2cVa84J1SNXATEs/s1600/kerchief+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PFy2iCJby20pQVjaEEcuhB8kOvpnlZ1sbSWyQI004NpWnkQdHdNUSAa1xJC5m7kQqcBrODzyWD2cqbNLhBGCqljiVR808jKtHZhq55JZWkn66p16ixFSCol9t4VR2cVa84J1SNXATEs/s320/kerchief+2.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's Floris... <br>(Image ©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is a relief to
see Floris elegantly alive, the other main English perfume house Penhaligon’s
sold its independence a couple of years ago to Puig along with sister-house
L’Artisan Parfumeur and both have been fundamentally altered in the process. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Time is in many ways
fortuitous for another genuinely British perfume house with royal warrant approval
to self-reflect and assiduously, stylishly reasserts itself. It was Floris’
seriously amazing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Honey Oud </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Leather Oud</i> perfumes from the Private
Collection in 2014 that originally alerted to Floris again.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/10/wood-cloth-scent-of-heritage-floris-x.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-21755411527568379792017-09-22T01:08:00.000+01:002017-10-29T18:00:17.661+00:00The Filigree Memory of Loam: Memorhyza, Humus & Pink Wood – The OSA! Outsider Scent Awards 2017<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlROFGDGtV1nMfvHY844ZdZtgV19kgzN2LbfmH_y-VwqoBJZcbe9ZAWH1s1pkd2L8kblk3P2TLRu7ILodaXS32XaW6l0YY6wg_5pB2oxXTAQwnLbbkR8SqmRSjLXqeR_VNeePdPn5o_Y/s1600/sugarbeet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="594" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlROFGDGtV1nMfvHY844ZdZtgV19kgzN2LbfmH_y-VwqoBJZcbe9ZAWH1s1pkd2L8kblk3P2TLRu7ILodaXS32XaW6l0YY6wg_5pB2oxXTAQwnLbbkR8SqmRSjLXqeR_VNeePdPn5o_Y/s400/sugarbeet.jpg" width="300"></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They bought me <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Seven handfuls of soil in seven bags<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">And a blindfold. “Now braggart, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Prove your boast and<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Show us which is the earth that bore you.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">And they paled when <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I murmured “Scotland” and was <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Right…</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scottish Soil</i> by Stuart McGregor<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">On the 25<sup>th</sup>
April this I received an intriguing e-mail from one of my dearest perfume
friends Ermano Picco, writer, fragrance specialist and creator of the
influential blog <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Gardenia nell’Occhiello</i>,
which translates as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gardenia boutonnière</i>.
Ermano asked if I would consider being a judge for the 2017 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSA! Outsider Scent Awards</i>, a
competition he had established in Bologna in collaboration with the Smell
Festival, an already well-known olfactive cultural event in the city. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_y3kt_QC4upIGxjFtViinLkaTG3Cn4VIfTvV_jRoSIUDH6jeBLTVF5jDlsIuuyi6NXQlBeKvr5YVxJiK75-LdzHFauD8duuLY05DiPqh2pzSnvBzLpR55zU5G-Wr9z83rhaWGXgJ2ue0/s1600/Festivale.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_y3kt_QC4upIGxjFtViinLkaTG3Cn4VIfTvV_jRoSIUDH6jeBLTVF5jDlsIuuyi6NXQlBeKvr5YVxJiK75-LdzHFauD8duuLY05DiPqh2pzSnvBzLpR55zU5G-Wr9z83rhaWGXgJ2ue0/s400/Festivale.JPG" width="400"></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Ermano is one of the
few people in the perfume world whose opinion I genuinely value trust. Behind
his expert dandyism is an astutely gathered aromatic intelligence, made all the
more lovely for his modesty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_8V1DGRKSHtcderAlBfZHHZhcw8ce3KPfrurWDdjIv7z70VTuUbKJhHZVGfNxvq8LbijWbsxOlnis7J9geSZlg9UpQVvhfLT9GflfFF7dVpPSz-e9AH6L4F1VqRouh5-e9zP6ZYBYWo/s1600/ermano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="718" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_8V1DGRKSHtcderAlBfZHHZhcw8ce3KPfrurWDdjIv7z70VTuUbKJhHZVGfNxvq8LbijWbsxOlnis7J9geSZlg9UpQVvhfLT9GflfFF7dVpPSz-e9AH6L4F1VqRouh5-e9zP6ZYBYWo/s320/ermano.jpg" width="281"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Ermano Picco </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In 2012 Andrea
Rubini launched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/2015/12/disorderly-wine-fundamental-by-rubini.html">Fundamental</a></i>, one of
the most compelling perfumes in recent years.Strange and enigmatic, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fundamental</i> used beeswax, the Soave
grape, leather, iris, vetiver, Calabrian bergamot and tangerine to create a
perfume of astonishing, dirty, time-worn beauty. It mixed vintage brothel vibes
with modern day chilled down booze to illicit an amazing collision of emotions
and effects.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/09/the-filigree-memory-of-loam-memorhyza.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-6414237884811154172017-08-28T18:36:00.004+01:002017-08-31T07:29:57.935+01:00Loving The Fur You Are In, Forever & Ever, Amen - ‘Chinchilla’ & ‘Foxy’ by DSH Perfumes (American Trilogy II)<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikuQBc0ZjhqwmLaVGWTCbwzy8jvWbrObMKMsbrt87BDSVad7iuw2vB2OqPqljamxd6u0wy_fYosKV_jTG5Gywuf8EJBgTXllaQUNHovLK6cZ1qR6b57MempjoUbE_SWEfgGbvH2PFiJCo/s1600/Chinchilla-fur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="1311" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikuQBc0ZjhqwmLaVGWTCbwzy8jvWbrObMKMsbrt87BDSVad7iuw2vB2OqPqljamxd6u0wy_fYosKV_jTG5Gywuf8EJBgTXllaQUNHovLK6cZ1qR6b57MempjoUbE_SWEfgGbvH2PFiJCo/s400/Chinchilla-fur.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I was
wrapped in black<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">fur and
white fur and<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">you undid
me and then<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">you placed
me in gold light<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">and then
you crowned me,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">while snow
fell outside<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">the door
in diagonal darts.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">From ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Us’</i> by Anne
Sexton<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">...For
Michelyn...<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Do I wear real fur…? Will I tell you about the grey fur jacket
that makes me so wicked and strange when I slip into it come freezing Edinburgh
winter? Maybe. A little. It’s the softest, most beautiful rabbit fur, dyed
steely grey and it matches my silver fox hair. It was second hand from a city
emporium of vintage clothing piled high with tweed, sequins, militaria, tartan,
cashmere, patent leather, Lurex and racks of memories and dreams. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Each time I shrug it on and flick up the lavish collar I feel torn
between guilt and sensual naughtiness; it’s a garment you have to stroke,
nuzzle, caress and lie against. It is decadent and of course melancholy,
created as it is from bunny skins but I’m afraid I can’t help myself. As the
temperatures plunge here in the Athens of the North I search out my silvered
pelt. I took it off once and lay it on the bed… my babyboy black cat flung himself
on it, squeaked like a possessed fool and promptly falling asleep purring like
a muffled road compacter. It is partly the guilt that gives the wearing of it
such a frisson.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEtnC1IKYMHMNc_CRZMdd3UdWPAl9gO049mX6Z83xcYJN04lwAzFHVybqiOonJFIkZ-W4o2-wYCY2cLrWsI8ZH-8mFRAWgpNml6UovhgyAM9xtP5z5EYos4TWvfe0AVNnEo9Hc6mXU5M/s1600/me+fur+fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="996" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEtnC1IKYMHMNc_CRZMdd3UdWPAl9gO049mX6Z83xcYJN04lwAzFHVybqiOonJFIkZ-W4o2-wYCY2cLrWsI8ZH-8mFRAWgpNml6UovhgyAM9xtP5z5EYos4TWvfe0AVNnEo9Hc6mXU5M/s320/me+fur+fox.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When I open my wardrobe to fetch or store, I stroke the grey
silken sleeve; hold the fur to my face. It’s an addictive impulse. I know there
is everything wrong with the world of fur and the global industrialisation of
its farming and manufacturing processes. The wearing of it, support and
criticism of it is riven with bitterness, obfuscation and hypocrisy. Yet for
me, it comes down to question of odiferous suffused texture and my not so
guilty love of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuck you</i> gestures as I
wander the streets, head full of music. Over the years, the fur has garnered an
array of odours like potent daring encounters. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tabac Blond extrait</i> by Caron, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M
Mink </i>by Byredo, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Salome</i> by Papillon,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Muscs Koublai Khan</i> by Serge Lutens,
Antonio Gardoni’s luscious filthy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maai</i>
and Cuir de Russie by Chanel. These faded strata of musks, vanilla, roses,
civet, leather, gaiuaicol, oakmoss, costus, ambrette, iris, woods, honey and
amber fade in and out over time making each time I reach for the fur, pull it
on, disturbing the pile. I inhale ghostly transient echoes of differing moments.
The garment feels somehow inhabited by differing versions of me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Taking it off I feel I flay off the scents, discarding the
strange, compelling animal moods that accompany my silvered fur. Some of us
have deep, growling passions for the world of animalic scents: form the softest
iris-dusted supple suedes, lipsticky luxury bags to the tight, sweat-stained
twists of horse tack, Cossack riding boots and petrol-tainted sex of
motorcycles, seats and jackets, horse-flank, aroused damp groins, armpits,
balls, cunts, soaked hair, post-coital collapse and slumber. Our relationship
with this challenging and erotic hinterland is fraught with taboo, memory,
nature and nurture. Many of us are eroticised by what are perceived by some as
the dirty, unclean and somehow subversive sexual desires that fall outwith the
normal remit of teaching, conversation and adolescent banter. Odours and
sensations we discover in private alone or with likeminded others. Others revel
in the normality of secretions and reeking surface.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgum1V30CTrYZ37TVshbAi5HoZ-Ijt-db4a5nUr2oxosf-x14xtbMTyVmHiKzYvYAdPHTtiRVzZaS8JK2DMxe2T5eHtpgv1dN92YbtL3y56WpGem7hW9gPOcOHH493YoLyLjW_cxdcvJKk/s1600/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="900" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgum1V30CTrYZ37TVshbAi5HoZ-Ijt-db4a5nUr2oxosf-x14xtbMTyVmHiKzYvYAdPHTtiRVzZaS8JK2DMxe2T5eHtpgv1dN92YbtL3y56WpGem7hW9gPOcOHH493YoLyLjW_cxdcvJKk/s320/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">'Happy To See You' by Ivan Kislov</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Now I have two more imagined olfactive pelts to wear and obsess
over: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxy by DSH Perfumes</i>. Both utterly
magical and addictive, I find myself wishing my skin could smell always golden,
feral, sweet and truffled. They are even more precious to me because they
spring from the mind of a devoutly talented artistic perfumer whose work I have
fallen deeply in love with, Colorado-based artisan perfumer Dawn Spencer
Hurwitz. Despite a relatively prolific creation rate and her intensive
application to her beautiful painting and drawing, Dawn’s work is always unique
and awash with emotional intelligence. She only creates work if an idea or
brief moves her and her personal work is innovative, constantly evolving
technically and introspectively. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxl9-N29o11cAidB3GIuZsyTbUM-zSs9XvvSYu6tgI0h3pbxTGMvCiFhhARFQ-3aBKreDpxoMdPZi1UhIqjJbZypxFAZB_mVCjAdPYvosgg5n8Tn8pZJAvG10BNKh_Ov7bXJkJfJsebX0/s1600/IMG_6838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxl9-N29o11cAidB3GIuZsyTbUM-zSs9XvvSYu6tgI0h3pbxTGMvCiFhhARFQ-3aBKreDpxoMdPZi1UhIqjJbZypxFAZB_mVCjAdPYvosgg5n8Tn8pZJAvG10BNKh_Ov7bXJkJfJsebX0/s320/IMG_6838.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy Samples</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I was initially sent a complex and sensual gathering of her work
thanks to my friend and passionate lover of American indie olfaction Michelyn
Camen, the Editor in Chief at influential US perfume blog Cafleurebon who
tirelessly supports the work of US perfumers. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax3IWA6PbbrDEsXWMCVn6mUi8J581S36el6PSv35J1aXT-0glm7rLN7y-vRJxUouVRA6JWR_6rTB_64THfnpqKG02Nk4XrPnK8E5a04DyacSyEGHxnoT4UlobwkPWSVan4HEBajlPcio/s1600/Michelyn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiax3IWA6PbbrDEsXWMCVn6mUi8J581S36el6PSv35J1aXT-0glm7rLN7y-vRJxUouVRA6JWR_6rTB_64THfnpqKG02Nk4XrPnK8E5a04DyacSyEGHxnoT4UlobwkPWSVan4HEBajlPcio/s320/Michelyn.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Michelyn Camen</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I’d like to pause here just for a
moment just to talk a little more about Michelyn and her fearless contribution and
support of some key US indie houses like House of Matriarch, Olympic Orchids, Aroma
M, Shelley Waddington’s En Voyage and Dawn’s own work at DSH amidst a vast
array of others. She recently drew on this reservoir of connective influence
when she decided to commission a limited collection called Cafleurebon Project
Talisman, seven fragrances from some of these closely inter-connected houses of
emotion and artistic charm to celebrate the seventh anniversary of Cafleurebon.
Perfumes to wear like juju in these contentious, dark days. That creators like
Amber Jobin of Aether Arts, Christi Meshell of House of Matriarch, Dr Ellen
Covey of Olympic Orchids Perfumes, Catamara Rosarium of Rosarium Blends,
Shelley Waddington at En Voyage and Patrick Kelly at Sigil Scent would compose
unique inventive formulae for Michelyn speaks olfactive volumes about not just about
her influence, which is considerable but to the esteem in which she is held by
her peers in the industry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4axY3CQCd1O63mO3IPKBnz9cZ7IMjzgNVYugrI9nOKpu2IpjT4YKGb0WgAPpv0VIRNxg4TOGTKxX7dYEG9YK90pIXlYffK5qt6afqkhzuP9VE0ThIEW0pLU5pVQbhwL_Xt2vkUOY3QpM/s1600/7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4axY3CQCd1O63mO3IPKBnz9cZ7IMjzgNVYugrI9nOKpu2IpjT4YKGb0WgAPpv0VIRNxg4TOGTKxX7dYEG9YK90pIXlYffK5qt6afqkhzuP9VE0ThIEW0pLU5pVQbhwL_Xt2vkUOY3QpM/s400/7.png" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Project Talisman Digital Artwork<br />by Dannielle Sergent</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As an esteemed perfume editor and what I like to term as a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">scentpreneur, </i>she has also among other
things collaborated on two perfumes, one with Shelley Waddington at En Voyage
Perfumes, the other with Dawn. She worked as Artistic Director on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zelda</i>, Shelley’s darkening hymn to the
glittering moth and light bulb life of Zelda Fitzgerald. The other one can be
interpreted as a more personal concept, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reveries
de Paris</i>, a collaboration with Dawn at DSH Perfumes, essentially the tale
of a beautiful and slightly naïve young American girl who goes to Paris a la
Sabrina to study and learns to love and appreciate the allure and detailed joy
of living the French slow way, food, fine wine, objets d’art and of course <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">l’Amour</i>. This <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">parfum d’histoire</i> has echoes of Michelyn’s own past experiences and
it demonstrates her innate awareness and understanding of perfumery’s emotional
effect on our psyches. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I worked with her as a writer for Cafleurebon and she allowed me
carte blanche to create my essays the way I wanted to. We disagreed from time
to time; she is a force of nature, driven and demanding, pushing herself and
therefore expecting high standards from others. And I am an emotional writer
and essayist, creating work in a relative wilderness of my own making. Such
sparks are always to be expected with people with concentrated artistic
temperaments, but as grownups we apologise and move on. We have both seen
darkness and to me she is a dear and deep friend, someone I trust implicitly. Although
I now no longer write for Cafleurebon, we are still instinctively, honestly
connected. I don’t think either of us is particularly easy to know or work with
sometimes, but you know what? Meh. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The reason I have diverted for a little while to talk about
Michelyn is that I only got to sample the perfumes of Dawn Spencer Hurwitz
thanks to Michelyn. I had been writing on US indie and niche houses like
D.S.& Durga, Arquiste, Imaginary Authors, Kerosene, Olo and Hans Hendley for
a while and I had worn some lovely work by Shelley Waddington and Mandy Aftel.
But Michelyn asked people to send me samples, not explicitly to review but so I
could familiarise myself with more indie US work that was hard to source in the
UK.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qn6-ZfC1hVWPrMfDtXg_dITjXJvXODaeWC3dV9oLp37Ul9ZdTDjaQY8lONM9JCdxCgR3-Rn7Mm67oK58zOnm2ZLIz4gPk99asN4-E4MNdEDTjSZLfdyOGT4HLIy5Lr-XE8wp_6a4JGk/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qn6-ZfC1hVWPrMfDtXg_dITjXJvXODaeWC3dV9oLp37Ul9ZdTDjaQY8lONM9JCdxCgR3-Rn7Mm67oK58zOnm2ZLIz4gPk99asN4-E4MNdEDTjSZLfdyOGT4HLIy5Lr-XE8wp_6a4JGk/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's Giverny samples ...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Michelyn kindly asked Dawn to send me some samples of her work
and one day out of the blue a box arrived from Boulder, Colorado containing a
bouquet of samples in beautiful tissue and Dawn’s lovely bespoke envelopes. The
perfumes included a variety of exquisite florals and the descriptive work Dawn
created for the exhibition <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In Bloom:
Painting Flowers In The Age Of Impressionism</i> at the Denver Art Museum in
2015. The scents were exuded by hi-tech motion-triggered diffusers allowing
visitors an experience combining hi-res visual stimulation, technology and
sensual encouragement. Three fragrances: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Giverny
In Bloom, L’Opera de Rouges Et Des Roses </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Danse Des Bleues Et Des Violettes</i> were designed to slow waltz
together in the specially created space to suggest the intoxicating ambience of
Claude Monet’s famous garden at Giverny in Northern France. This is one of only
eight (count them…) to date of collaborations with the Denver Art Museum who
are I think are unusual and amazingly generous in their support of these
olfactory projects. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVeD_qOi75YH1LxhrgqCm6-SLXQFbvuDD6yURe53gSqkvjLO_HRxtzsRIdPLtB7qLJaHbBp8byzOqJFu8VcktdubPj9sXQnvBP0Uqd4V2UlKCu7Mrg0ueKM02MuWtmspMjudBcQKuQT5s/s1600/cartier+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVeD_qOi75YH1LxhrgqCm6-SLXQFbvuDD6yURe53gSqkvjLO_HRxtzsRIdPLtB7qLJaHbBp8byzOqJFu8VcktdubPj9sXQnvBP0Uqd4V2UlKCu7Mrg0ueKM02MuWtmspMjudBcQKuQT5s/s320/cartier+2.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">My 1989 <i>L'Art de Cartier</i> catalogue</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Another set of samples was from another collaboration, this
time, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brilliant: Cartier in the 20<sup>th</sup>
Century</i>; Dawn created a quartet of dazzling perfumes to reflect the iconic
gems on display. I was lucky enough in 1989 in my early twenties to see an
exhibition in Paris at the Petit Palais entitled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L’Art de Cartier</i>. The jewels were obscenely lovely, almost surreal,
but one of the most interesting aspects of the exhibition was the wealth of
detailed studio drawings and designs on display, allowing you to see
commissioned piece form start to finish. Some of these drawings, delicate
watercolours and gouaches were works of art in themselves. The cases and jewels
were lit with great skill so the entire echoing space danced with reflections
and flashes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSAxT_4zhrE9qYAeoouDuylkEmS5dA0_utohwlLAXXj8ISkjB42qQeOp5MxA0Dp-IHLSMl9vEcUpOX4NhDbfKlwxaEDEyRoxyEfkd1HQ8AlssXDrzqc0BBxC6KXoTXHEZbs6ddYuMnGY/s1600/cartier1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSAxT_4zhrE9qYAeoouDuylkEmS5dA0_utohwlLAXXj8ISkjB42qQeOp5MxA0Dp-IHLSMl9vEcUpOX4NhDbfKlwxaEDEyRoxyEfkd1HQ8AlssXDrzqc0BBxC6KXoTXHEZbs6ddYuMnGY/s320/cartier1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">My 1989 <i>L'Art de Cartier</i> catalogue</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Three of Dawn’s perfumes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Deco
Diamonds, Rubis Rose</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jacinthe de
Sapphir</i> are olfactory <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">raisings</i> if
you like of key jewels (The Duchess of Windsor Pink Flamingo Brooch clip, a ruby
necklace given with deep love to Liz Taylor by Mike Todd and a flawless blue
sapphire owned by Queen Maria of Romania in 1922.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The fourth part of the quartet is a sultry sfumato imagining of
the metal-threaded leathery air in a goldsmith’s workshop. This perfume, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fumée D’Or</i> is my favourite, a hazy
smudge of sweet smoke over rose, jasmine, shrubby immortelle and mucky civet.
The key is careful aldehydes placed in the top, glittering in the hushed vapour
like glints of worn Rembrandt gold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ly75jkCHABI-8MYnDGttVvp_LOV53n-LauJcBWj89IirQhX3dQRP6XjS5U-cPi5HHl8TW1FtxlQC7LWFMrqdPp2f-ydsFdCnSbtyeFsWfYtlU768CLcMbBOcpCausiBRiNtHJ6vpM6U/s1600/art+bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="750" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ly75jkCHABI-8MYnDGttVvp_LOV53n-LauJcBWj89IirQhX3dQRP6XjS5U-cPi5HHl8TW1FtxlQC7LWFMrqdPp2f-ydsFdCnSbtyeFsWfYtlU768CLcMbBOcpCausiBRiNtHJ6vpM6U/s320/art+bird.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Painting by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I ended up spending over two weeks lost in Dawn’s nuanced
palette; such is the allure and asking of her imagination. This is what she
does, providing aromatic ideas, each one riffing off another her mind ablaze
with perfumed and artistic conflagration. She is a gifted painter, indeed it is
what she trained as, her abstract canvases display an powerful belief in the
dissection of colour and line, creating a world of floating chroma that feels
like dream and solid land. Dawn is a meticulous planner of projects; there is
projected deliberation and odiferous connection in her launches and teasing of
future projects. She mentioned this to me in a message once, she seems as I
guess she is, quite prolific, not that there is anything in the slightest
slapdash or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">churned out</i> concerning
her work. I think when you are as artistically diverse as Dawn, as immersed in
scent and as passionate about your olfactive call of duty, your mind is always
searching for things to settle upon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOlohrUr5ddyTIiPmmnugwxnw7rfGzHDLirabpjbW17hGswK8UYADUUQLSaFP_UQRlhItW3nUrdx8WCYv-4XQoHNpQqG_pWSeRulEH5ytMSreFcKmXfNaHZU9RAWozhfy2jg9b8iPrWEI/s1600/art+green.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOlohrUr5ddyTIiPmmnugwxnw7rfGzHDLirabpjbW17hGswK8UYADUUQLSaFP_UQRlhItW3nUrdx8WCYv-4XQoHNpQqG_pWSeRulEH5ytMSreFcKmXfNaHZU9RAWozhfy2jg9b8iPrWEI/s320/art+green.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Painting by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I understand this fevered flitting, I have notebooks everywhere,
all numbered; I need to be able to write down ideas for blog pieces, essays and
photo shoots whenever I have them. I sketch out plans for photos, save words,
pin magazine images to pages. I find things scrawled out in them come morning that
I just don’t remember and to be honest I’ll be lucky if I can decipher them. I
tend to feel a bit panicked and queasy if I don’t have at least six to eight
essays on the go at once and I return to each of them, uncovering them like
canvases in a studio and start working away, sometimes reworking or starting
from scratch. Sometimes the half-written canvas stalls and I can go no further,
words fail me, the perfume somehow loses it hold and I have to metaphorically
burn the piece in my mind. I carry notebooks and pens with me at all times,
take photos of things that might become images to accompany posts or just form
part of the Foxy Wandering Instagram feed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnhHjrnXt1s0Vt_Srw5o6slnnnH_9ZXhw5-y8v2ApLDSz3SEKUkCJsXBBNc1evCZzcOmmakUyJzJQiIiDpi36ldvT776ub5uT8XQjTbTIumUoN6VAqF1-VQEdSos_ykJfzyDhh4SAi4A/s1600/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFnhHjrnXt1s0Vt_Srw5o6slnnnH_9ZXhw5-y8v2ApLDSz3SEKUkCJsXBBNc1evCZzcOmmakUyJzJQiIiDpi36ldvT776ub5uT8XQjTbTIumUoN6VAqF1-VQEdSos_ykJfzyDhh4SAi4A/s400/FullSizeRender_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy notebooks...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">What fascinates me so much about Dawn is the sheer diversity of
subject matter that roams so beautifully through the landscape of her work.
There is a comforting sincerity to her storytelling. She tells us of painters,
kings, queens, courts, royal gardens, shamans, mysticism, geography, sex,
seasons, blooms, weed, mountains, smoke, marriage, beauty, Zen, chromatics,
ancient Egypt, Versailles and the mysteries of the sea. Fragrantica currently
lists 246 DSH perfumes/creations in its database dating back to 2008. It is an
astonishing level of creativity and always a genuine sense of heartfelt realism,
a kind of bound signature marked out in researched brushstrokes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Dawn is based in Boulder, Colorado at the foot of the iconic
Rocky Mountains, a place she moved to after living in Boston. She studied to be
a painter and this has never gone, the desire to place on canvas in paint and
assorted media the floral abstractions and other dreamscapes that flow from her
imagination. Dawn is not an amateur painter, her canvases are far too beautiful
and enigmatic; I feel she is compelled to paint in the spaces and vacuum of
olfactive hiatus in order to be occupied artistically. I do something similar;
unable to write and words just eluding me I take photographs of flowers, their
multitudinous forms both calm and resurrect my impetus. Artistically speaking,
painting and perfumery will reflect and expose things within the aromatic
processes allowing Dawn to access more intriguing and detailed aspects of her
palette. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichvx_Zfv-BdNIhayGp8LdUnGgDrYkFFwPuSDarKB0uULnM2abdNtES1tZu2p9pB1feOZ2NuY6ffiGyaWbDSILPknctLsN6Sjvnta0WKgDOpKC7gkOPExEYSzI_nf3disBiHiA80yQNuo/s1600/dawn+carnation+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichvx_Zfv-BdNIhayGp8LdUnGgDrYkFFwPuSDarKB0uULnM2abdNtES1tZu2p9pB1feOZ2NuY6ffiGyaWbDSILPknctLsN6Sjvnta0WKgDOpKC7gkOPExEYSzI_nf3disBiHiA80yQNuo/s400/dawn+carnation+2.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Dawn Spencer Hurwitz<br />(Carnation Montage TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In 1991, after graduating she worked in a shop called ESSENCE in
Boston alongside Sarah Horowitz, located on Newbery Street selling custom
blended perfumes and designer fragrance lines. When the owners wanted to sell
up, Sarah and Dawn decided to buy it and ran the business between 1992-1994. The
friends decided to part ways, Sarah heading off to California and eventually
setting up her own eponymous line, focussing on custom blending materials for
clients, a deeply personal operation she refers to as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Fragrance Journey</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Dawn on the other hand moved to Boulder, this was somewhat
health motivated, as an asthma sufferer; she found the clear high Colorado air
a vast improvement on the Boston city atmospherics. I hadn’t realised before
researching to write this piece that there is olfactory-visual synaesthesia in
Dawn, she perceives the perfume materials as shapes; but this actually makes
rather graceful sense in terms of the careful chromatic emotions in her
paintings and the way she approaches collaborations with the Denver Art Museum.
The use of scent in spatial projects is tricky; diffusion, interaction, timing
and impact are difficult concepts to contend with in terms of the perfumery
build and then there are the technical challenges of delivering the fumes into
a gallery or venue. If you view scent and its multitudinous components in a more
offbeat, structural way, line, shape and scented form I feel perhaps the
arching request of a project might be more thrilling and sensual than daunting.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjse0zoAm5SYRtVsL_iuOlkwg5P7Tk27zvUxuyN34SPdnenzwMIJZ5_XEqfpq_7A88kohrT3fkc9zc_pozL7hyphenhyphennM0oZCNNHUAz2jYPn-dHRBM5U6Lsv6iX0qixVz4iimQTJ__yxDltJBBc/s1600/art+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="750" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjse0zoAm5SYRtVsL_iuOlkwg5P7Tk27zvUxuyN34SPdnenzwMIJZ5_XEqfpq_7A88kohrT3fkc9zc_pozL7hyphenhyphennM0oZCNNHUAz2jYPn-dHRBM5U6Lsv6iX0qixVz4iimQTJ__yxDltJBBc/s320/art+blue.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Painting by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Taking some time to look at some of her paintings, there is such
a beautiful sense of line that winds, whiplashes and scrapes through paint
layers. Delicacy is floated on febrile sheets of blotted bruise; flicked lines
and drops suggest flowers or tears. Impressionist ochre and white are used to
present quiet roses, a flower that floods through her social media like a
waterfall of petals. Dawn is emotionally very grounded in family, her marriage
and community; this shines out of her Instagram images. I am lucky enough to be
connected as a friend on Facebook and an image popped up recently of her
marriage twenty-three years ago to deeply committed and loving hubby Edwin. The
two of them embracing outside under green leaves in the sun, flower crowns in
their hair. Dawn looks like a carefree medieval princess. It is such a joyful
photograph, suffused with that quality that you only get with analogue
pictures. She told me they were married in the eye of a hurricane: ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">storming all around us and we got sunburned</i>…’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The more I looked at this image of Dawn Spencer Hurwitz getting married;
I thought how much it presaged the florescent olfaction to come. This complex
woman, wedded to a man she loved deeply and differently, the elegant simplicity
of vows and commitment in a setting that speaks of connections to nature,
flora, trees and weather. If it were a Disney movie the woodland creatures
would be there throwing petals, squealing, bowing furred heads in quiet
respect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Out the maelstrom of Dawn’s immaculate floral imagination
suddenly emerged something quite differently, one of these mammals made
glorious, pelty odiferous flesh if you like. As soon as I read about<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Chinchilla</i>, I thought…if Dawn is
applying the same rigourous detail and sensual imaginative power to fur accords
and animalic petting musks I have to have it. Chinchillas are such freaky,
silky little things; sweet mellow pets and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lightning
strike me</i>…beautiful coats.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">What strikes you first when you apply copious amounts of Dawn’s
remarkable <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i> is the oozing,
almost and I mean almost, (Dawn really isn’t one for smut) porno-generosity of palpable
beeswax and tactile honeyed musks that rise and flow in the air around you. All
is golden, dirty and strikingly animalic. Yet parallel to this startling strain
of perfumed thought runs a quiet ecclesiastical ambience of polished pews,
hymnals; church doors opening onto wild gardens alive bees ravaging roses and
lavender for vital pollen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I find both perceived facets of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i> fascinating, the malleable musk-laden wax vs. the more
austere and rigid tenets of a religious toned olfactory message. This duality
of fur on bold shoulders, under a slash of crimson lipstick and eyes like
mirrors in comparison to quiet fur, caught in candlelight as someone kneels to
pray in a darkened chapel; it is a powerful and alluring feeling and one that
gently reverberates throughout the lifespan of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">During a horrible, mercifully short stint at a brutal
sports-obsessed boarding school, as an unlikely choirboy one of my weekend
tasks was to occasionally polish the pew end finials with pungent tinned wax
before another smug sermon from a man who eventually walked into the ocean
rather than face his demons and impending police charges of paedophilia. The
petrolic scent of the hazy, hivey wax lingering on fingers and embedded in the
small dark green hymnals and religion-loathing woody air is a powerful memory
and one that is hard to shake off once it floats back up. It is this woody,
waxen recollection that I finally realised I could smell in and out of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLthVcX_nfJoghsfvFGgMyJo4lWMoJjoOqK_RKN6mKYuAtLTmOfSujop0OQHWFf3mH9LJ69OvCUrbmD0gCxQ2tnFeZ6OqxedSuy9ItrwViuD5o0GUrMk2yFLa_OuptvKL_tatmM87OuY/s1600/chinchilla+class.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="672" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLthVcX_nfJoghsfvFGgMyJo4lWMoJjoOqK_RKN6mKYuAtLTmOfSujop0OQHWFf3mH9LJ69OvCUrbmD0gCxQ2tnFeZ6OqxedSuy9ItrwViuD5o0GUrMk2yFLa_OuptvKL_tatmM87OuY/s320/chinchilla+class.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Beneath <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla’s</i>
composition is a mix of three key animal signifiers: hyrax, civet and
castoreum, celebrated by a technically subtle assembly of notes demonstrating I
think a push in a more feral and unsettling direction for Dawn. She is not a
sexual perfumer, it is not a vibe she rocks, as a devoted, mother and wife, her
perfumery needs no overt theatrics to be compelling. And while the early feral overture
to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i> is genuinely arresting,
a startling… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Am I really smelling this
fuck-honey moment</i>, the unexpectedly bared flesh is clothed again quickly
enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The descent from this fleetingly uncovered skin is deftly
handled into a state of burnished intensity where the three wild musks rouse
themselves a little more, yelp, paw and pace over the skin before settling
themselves again, exuding heat made flesh and gold. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRbI3edFetAfhvo809fPgHXWOVzY7z4uhVh3feadOWQylOp5uWKAxQKrJubZsl-JDopHbqGczMpjTRcvewQgIXuZqFhoGcM0mKA52ngctavazZ_uhYJieATj75Wr08vBLcfXt1whAK74/s1600/BCDust.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1112" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPRbI3edFetAfhvo809fPgHXWOVzY7z4uhVh3feadOWQylOp5uWKAxQKrJubZsl-JDopHbqGczMpjTRcvewQgIXuZqFhoGcM0mKA52ngctavazZ_uhYJieATj75Wr08vBLcfXt1whAK74/s320/BCDust.JPG" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Ben Cobb,Editor in Chief<br />Another Man Magazine</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">These potentially overt, slutty naturals have been oh so well
handled; their journey calibrated by Dawn with consummate skill, allowing them to
be just impure and sullied enough but tempered beautifully with her beloved
carnation with its weird mix of dental ambience and clove scented dust. There
is a lovely touch of ambrette seed, the haunting musk mallow tone that has an
echo of amber and iris but a sugared vegetal dust all of its own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In the later stages Dawn’s conjured fur accord frissons into
view. The delicious rose de mai and oakmoss have an odour of bruise and
vanishing as the whole arrangement cedes from that guilty bee-porn overture.
The slightly stale rose riff is lovely, maybe I’m the only one who can smell
it, but even so it captures certain roses as they fade. If you can imagine
ragged, weary petals dropping into honey peppered with dead bees, leaves and
windborne scraps of fur; you have some small idea of how strange the
developmental beauty of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i>
is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Why Chinchilla you might ask? That really is for Dawn to answer.
Her description when it launched was:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">At the Grand Hotel, where
the elite and gorgeously tailored meet for soirées, dancing parties, and other
hedonistic meetings, the elegant always wear their chinchilla. Dreamily soft,
sensuously cozy, and yet so chic; only the finest would do</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The animals themselves are crepuscular rodents and currently
listed as an endangered species in the wild due to continued illegal hunting
for the fur trade. They are high maintenance pets, neurotic and susceptible to
upsets, illness and their own form of depression. Their uniquely structured fur
requires careful attention, they need constant exercise and their teeth grow
throughout their little lives. The fur trade has almost wiped them populations
of wild chinchillas whilst domesticated animals are still bred for the morally
dubious purposes of the fur and fashion industries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDL1lZmH5DwJPeueqgW8zf1KV2plJCRUsv8Ot5ZtBUdpieYQ8OFG5dHCiKsu1jK_BX4XlPgoQUStS9dv2RURe_FscTWScX75Li7bCbWklnBs__Fui4y5ThbPQeWza5Xha6kJ0hArEwVVE/s1600/chinchilla+painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDL1lZmH5DwJPeueqgW8zf1KV2plJCRUsv8Ot5ZtBUdpieYQ8OFG5dHCiKsu1jK_BX4XlPgoQUStS9dv2RURe_FscTWScX75Li7bCbWklnBs__Fui4y5ThbPQeWza5Xha6kJ0hArEwVVE/s320/chinchilla+painting.jpg" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Chinchilla by Pavlychev</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Dawn’s description implies a vintage dreaminess and look back I
only perceive in certain places with the structure. I haven’t asked Dawn, I
often don’t ask perfumers. Partly because their inspiration is theirs, end of.
And I prefer to navigate the perfumes within the realms of my own
experience. Inspirations aside, the notes must stand alone. The musky drydown
and Dawn’s faded rose and fur effects produce for me a deeply comforting
honeyed pet aroma; that warm, mammalian, gathered-from-the-cage scent that so
many of us find so addictive. Chinchillas have a funky hay-tinted aroma and of
course the little things feel amazing. Their ultra-dense mega-soft fur has a
particularly silken feel; your fingers glide over it like glass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i> is a
concept scent, allowing Dawn to explore a distinctly more animalic facet. I
think it is one of her finest creations; the tension and moments of calm
between the materials are beautiful. But at the end of the scented day it is a
perfume of tawny honey and waxen animalic nostalgia, just enough to recall a
bygone era of whispered decadence. I adore that slow fall of rose into
exhausted musks. It is an odour for skin. It dies on card. I wear it so often
that even when I not, I smell it everywhere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I was of course utterly delighted by the news of Dawn’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxy</i> eau de parfum. I couldn’t quite
believe she was launching a scent named after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vulpes vulpes;</i> I couldn’t think of anyone more suited to write his
perfumed biography. I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe it had been created
with me in mind but I hoped hoped hoped it would be vulpine beautiful wonderful
and I could make it a signature. And oh it was and is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The original musky, coppered inspiration was Wes Anderson’s
definitive version of Roald Dahl’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fantastic
Mr Fox</i>, where the dapper and decidedly fanciable finger-clicking Mr Fox was
voiced perfectly by gorgeous George Clooney and his long suffering wife by
Meryl Streep. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve watched the movie; I know
people fall over themselves to dissect and fawn over the Cult of Anderson but IMHO,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fantastic Mr Fox </i>is his best film (strictly
speaking it’s a tough call between that and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Royal Tenenbaums</i>…) and the purest expression of his themes, quirks,
preoccupations and human emotions. I think people often forget in the midst of
his colour palettes, humour, archness and style tics he writes and portrays the
complex minutiae of love with often brutal clarity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fantastic
Mr Fox</i> is deliriously funny and heart breaking in places, but always
vibrantly furred, animalic and alive. It is a much loved film chez Hurwitz and
tripped off in Dawn’s mind something of a very particular style of perfume,
something again fur-inspired to compliment <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i>,
but perhaps more autumnal, bountiful, sleek and feral. And so Foxy began to
rummage and scamper in the Hurwitz perfumed imagination. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The careful creation of Foxy and his various inspirations has
been exquisitely rendered. As soon as you start wearing it, you begin to
glimpse flashes of copper fur all around you, fleeting and magical. A nutty,
stained oak CO2 extract stands boldly in the composition for Foxy’s beautiful
tree house and mitti attar, a co-distillation of baked earth and sandalwood
lies deep in the base to literally provide a wondrous and palpable sense of
invaded soil and shifting weather. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuUEfx6RJLDEdhUCy5PqwX_jUQmT862KMXRIXJ-zZwhnjztw848zXD6ZClkUYAAo2AecLaRdgFzy_IrFzUaoxBWplMFH9vbIYct2-POllMKRNgVW2JfDudVrlXXjezqpLu-F3K_A9S9w/s1600/drfdoxfur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuUEfx6RJLDEdhUCy5PqwX_jUQmT862KMXRIXJ-zZwhnjztw848zXD6ZClkUYAAo2AecLaRdgFzy_IrFzUaoxBWplMFH9vbIYct2-POllMKRNgVW2JfDudVrlXXjezqpLu-F3K_A9S9w/s400/drfdoxfur.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Fox fur...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Dawn has created a sable fur accord using amber and this tangibly
suggests Foxy’s burnished pelt, catching soft fire in the autumn light amid
resins, benzoin, musks, castoreum, costus, salty roasted cumin and ruffled
oakmoss. These poignant and undeniably confident materials have been applied
with nimble artistry and calm focus to layer a sweet rut to Foxy’s fur. This
becomes a little more provocative as the perfume develops like spoor on trees
and leaves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The other big sensual theme is a boozy one; Dawn wanting to
reference the apple tree and cider motif from Fantastic Mr Fox and the
rust-toned palette that radiates through the film from bottled cider, through
golden leaves, fox fur, foxy furniture and turned earth to Foxy’s rust-toned
corduroy suit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The top unfolds with this strange mix of liqueur and herbs: cognac,
whisky, apple and thyme simmered together with just a whisper of furred peach
skin. This delicious and controlled formation is supported by a very unique <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ginger snap</i> (ginger biscuit) accord that
smells incredible as it opens on skin. I love this section of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxy</i> and remnants glow on for hours,
spicy, chewy, flesh-warmed and fruity. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I can really smell the beeswax in the middle section, it is a
particular note I am very drawn to and always recognise in scent. Here it
smells a little dirty, mixed as it is with the cigarette ash indole mean girls
of jasmine and orange blossom. Foxy’s ingredients might lead you to think that
the mix should be more floral but Dawn is too gifted a perfumer for that, her
floral materials while blatantly beautiful serve to effloresce and exalt the
aurous fur she has conjoured into wonderful life. Some orris and liatrix or
deer-tongue another material I really love, provide further 3D texture and
vibrancy to the fur as it lies down on skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcNU473ofU_ao-QFqn6fkE6uvWPRXIHGB7SmYLs83i64XpCHgXU6ipTk-NVFuLr0EoclMxgNRI0UMoqHfuF-aXBNbMV5v6B7ICFb65FIY3ILsY6DJD6VAK8yinBxwXoXfjz60FTF9Lk4/s1600/mr+%2526+mrs+fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="624" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcNU473ofU_ao-QFqn6fkE6uvWPRXIHGB7SmYLs83i64XpCHgXU6ipTk-NVFuLr0EoclMxgNRI0UMoqHfuF-aXBNbMV5v6B7ICFb65FIY3ILsY6DJD6VAK8yinBxwXoXfjz60FTF9Lk4/s320/mr+%2526+mrs+fox.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The balancing act Dawn plays with a diverse and exacting palette
is quite a feat of elaborate olfactive tapestry. Nothing is out of place; all
is harmony. It warms and runs on my skins like I was born to wear it and I
adore it to furry foxy pieces. While I doing my usual exhaustive research for
this piece, my name & vulpine nom de plume popped up quite frequently. Foxy
fragrance. Fox fragrance etc… so I’d like to think this was the case for Dawn
and maybe subconsciously there is a tiny silver fox paw print somewhere in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxy</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is a perfume I love. I have fallen hard for its mellow copper
mix of svelte spices, balsamic booziness and diverting fur and woods. It feels
like a private scent. I crave it at night; it is always by my bed in case I
need it, falling asleep with my wrists and forearms foxed. It is different in
style to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i> despite the fur
accord link and the pelty shudder of echoing recognition. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chinchilla</i> is more sensual, in its hot-hay and hyrax in the sun
aura around those cinnamon roses and beeswax. There’s a whiff of sleaze, just a
whisper on the wind, a rumour almost. My skin damn well loves it, soaks it up,
reflects it back up, gauzy, soft and fabulous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhocSswM2g7hQeCKl0UtIPUhQId0FqIj9U3tR7sFCBWJ4np8Gcbd41ZUOyPh0MsQRksXDCo9Pxe6cma0nfKVfIbnxhFRx_stlcmVcj4HU0314DDCXAoR7TvVjc-dxXR0w0WHyOFdEUQyo/s1600/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhocSswM2g7hQeCKl0UtIPUhQId0FqIj9U3tR7sFCBWJ4np8Gcbd41ZUOyPh0MsQRksXDCo9Pxe6cma0nfKVfIbnxhFRx_stlcmVcj4HU0314DDCXAoR7TvVjc-dxXR0w0WHyOFdEUQyo/s320/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's <i>Foxy</i>..</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It has been a wonderful journey, travelling through the creative
and emotive perfumed universe of Dawn Spencer Hurwitz; there is truth, faith
and a real sense of offering in her olfactive work. She is obsessive and
determined in her desire to translate stored perceptions, sketches and ideas
into perfumes that continually surprise and delight us. Earlier this year Dawn
created a perfume called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Become the Shaman</i>
as part of Michelyn Camen’s Project Talisman that I mentioned earlier. Dawn made
a milkweed accord to balance her cleansing fire, smoke of copal, Palo santo,
white sagebrush and bitter swirling tobacco. It is a scent of quiet power; the
skin feels washed in fumes and anointed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Become The
Shaman</i> demonstrates the dexterity, intelligence and power present in
the oeuvre of Dawn. There is fun too though and a sense of the private family
woman, with a loving husband and child. Most of all is the relentless artistic
passion she channels through her drawing, canvases and olfaction. Her
imagination is a wonderful thing and I will be wearing her perfumes for as long
she as continues to make them.. now I’m off to put on more <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxy </i>&<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Chinchilla</i>…. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>For more information on Dawn and DSH Perfumes, please click the link below:</i></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://www.dshperfumes.com/">DSH</a> </i></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">TheSilverFox
27 August 2017</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-83397974985746497532017-07-09T21:12:00.000+01:002017-08-28T21:52:23.805+01:00Hive Mind: ‘Délivre-Moi’ by Technique Indiscrète (Interlude III)<br>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #444444;">‘<i>You bee man, lifting a frame to light, count
only numbers.</i></span></span><br>
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<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">You are human; what bees count must be more
than parts.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>Breathe on them your dream of honey-smeared
taste.</i>’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(From ‘<i>30<sup>th</sup> May: Examining Brood’</i> in
Bee Journal by Sean Borodale<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Honey and beeswax
are notes I love in scent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>Dirtysweet</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>Moltenpour</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>Stickygolden</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Amberdrowning <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>Malleableanimal</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The opulent glow of <i>Honey Oud</i> from Floris, <i>Mamluk</i> from Xerjoff’s Oud Stars, <i>How You Love</i>, the smooth groove sensual
lilt of Dana El Masri’s Sade-inspired scent from Parfums Jazmin Seraï and the erotic
slutty rush of <i>Séville à l’Aube </i>from
L’Artisan Parfumeur are all beautiful oozing, waxen manifestations of animalic
bee work. <o:p></o:p></span><br>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkne6bmkv6tjQ7Z1YTiCHE2qebmYAsm9yZcw0ZWTV6BTaJJoIG0mLWYUA43kfqymbRKTZ3Zfg9croTUaiGCflrHPPg2OTD9PxgsZwX6oUPruNwFggRNwV8SiwegJiaNB-S-nwyC4WWeZQ/s1600/wax1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkne6bmkv6tjQ7Z1YTiCHE2qebmYAsm9yZcw0ZWTV6BTaJJoIG0mLWYUA43kfqymbRKTZ3Zfg9croTUaiGCflrHPPg2OTD9PxgsZwX6oUPruNwFggRNwV8SiwegJiaNB-S-nwyC4WWeZQ/s320/wax1.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy beeswax... ahhh the odour..</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Nothing quite prepared
me however for the shuddering plunge of <i>Délivre-Moi</i>,
a violent collision of bee-porn and mega-wattage vintage sillage. Even opening
the box now seems to release some ghost of a couture-clad dowager sweeping
through dust-filled rooms, a mauve dress of wax and pollen-stained satin with
live bees frothing at the hem and bodice. It is one of the most powerful and
arresting perfumes I own and I find it mesmerising. It is immensely private,
compelling you in secret to scorch the atoms in your immediate vicinity, but in
reality nothing beats wearing it out and watching people swoon, recoil and
flee. <o:p></o:p></span><br>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br></span>
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadREFAmHVFgjRQYj5XKPhTBEvRfIfuxBus0orf4NX5-J_IATeUYUTo6-J6e_8LHjHyANGBn39z93d0XfAr_c5xN26zFh18y_dIMjryJHFs-iQiRo-XSfWA7GooyN4jz2up1HmgY_IEZI/s1600/editorial.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadREFAmHVFgjRQYj5XKPhTBEvRfIfuxBus0orf4NX5-J_IATeUYUTo6-J6e_8LHjHyANGBn39z93d0XfAr_c5xN26zFh18y_dIMjryJHFs-iQiRo-XSfWA7GooyN4jz2up1HmgY_IEZI/s400/editorial.JPG" width="283"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">From 'The Sweetest Thing' editorial for <br>Vogue Australia, lensed by Will Davidson, <br>model Cassi Van Den Dungen</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The smell of you
oscillates between Versailles trollop, 80s Parisian pissoir and vast ballrooms
of fading jasmine. There is a huge sense of decay, dust and anxiety in the mix;
the undeniable power of the floral notes counterpointed by the honey and
almandine and cherry nostalgia of the admittedly huge overdose of heliotrope.
You only have to use very small amounts of heliotropin for a formula to explode
with powdered marzipan intensity.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/07/hive-mind-delivre-moi-by-technique.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-75145701725681381822017-07-03T16:16:00.001+01:002017-11-04T06:59:44.134+00:00Canny Hand & Eldritch Fire: ‘Damn Rebel Witches’ by REEK Perfume<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDaw3segtC11yst75c-dj3jnnTxp8eyUAc31wzs9YcbaB-oW67l9NMO9-12Ek7xpPeg3iQ_nx80DPprtHSyYUUROyBZpvOM6tc4Z5QJvTtandFitIccTOtx63OjmlMd8nnjTsqnDL0kA/s1600/DRW1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1201" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNDaw3segtC11yst75c-dj3jnnTxp8eyUAc31wzs9YcbaB-oW67l9NMO9-12Ek7xpPeg3iQ_nx80DPprtHSyYUUROyBZpvOM6tc4Z5QJvTtandFitIccTOtx63OjmlMd8nnjTsqnDL0kA/s400/DRW1.jpg" width="300"></span></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Witchcraft was hung, in History,<br>
But History and I<br>
Find all the Witchcraft that we need<br>
Around us, every Day —<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Emily Dickinson
(poem 1583)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In 1589, 14-year-old
Princess Anne of Denmark set sail on Danish waters bound for Scotland to marry
King James VI whom she had already married by proxy at Kronborg Castle in
Helsingør, the inspiration for Hamlet’s doom-stained Elsinore. Anne’s fleet was
thwarted by terrible storms and forced back onto the Norwegian coast where Anne
and her retainers travelled overland to Oslo to seek refuge and wait. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XtNG-pMnun4kN6Cq-O9ufI5FHnQrUZyBndTnCpetFwNnnzfCnmT6B9vTwv6rILt4dT3HGa_JvGN9lwcMTQY8SfhAF4OqHoFrf-3Kld7VfNenNeNWJqZ8tmHeKUJQVP4CeC44YJBvfQI/s1600/james%2526anne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XtNG-pMnun4kN6Cq-O9ufI5FHnQrUZyBndTnCpetFwNnnzfCnmT6B9vTwv6rILt4dT3HGa_JvGN9lwcMTQY8SfhAF4OqHoFrf-3Kld7VfNenNeNWJqZ8tmHeKUJQVP4CeC44YJBvfQI/s320/james%2526anne.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">King James VI & Anne of Denmark</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Back in Scotland, an
increasingly anxious King James became concerned that some dreadful incident
had occurred because of the storms. Prayers were said, candles burned, and the anxious
King scanned turbulent waters. A search party was dispatched to look for his
young bride to be accompanied by a letter in French written by James: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: white;">‘</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only
to one who knows me as well as his own reflection in a glass could I express,
my dearest love, the fears which I have experienced because of the contrary
winds and violent storms since you embarked</i>…<span style="background-color: white;">’ <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Eventually word came
from the Danish court that winter was setting in and that any attempt to cross
the seas would have to wait until spring. Undeterred, James set sail with three
hundred retainers to meet Anne and bring her back to Scotland. The royal couple
were luxuriantly betrothed in the Old Bishops Palace in Oslo on 23<sup>rd</sup>
November 1589, the ceremony conducted in French in order that both James and
Anne could understand proceedings.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/07/canny-hand-eldritch-fire-damn-rebel.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-56785552657896843932017-06-13T22:49:00.000+01:002017-06-14T00:41:42.388+01:00 The Addictive Persistence of Studied Musks: Jeroboam Paris<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VaRwQdY2iUOoROmk2WCUtkCp67py2asX0COP4LxJT_DiRzIQL89JWIiUFaGMaEBjULDsvPbQoEXWixIAaVIhsakStMJs1ShZCXLF2icYRfd0_kXFjr_nNo8QTX4q22dnmawqAZWAK6A/s1600/IMG_4082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9VaRwQdY2iUOoROmk2WCUtkCp67py2asX0COP4LxJT_DiRzIQL89JWIiUFaGMaEBjULDsvPbQoEXWixIAaVIhsakStMJs1ShZCXLF2icYRfd0_kXFjr_nNo8QTX4q22dnmawqAZWAK6A/s320/IMG_4082.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘Love
is like musk. It attracts attention.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US">Love is
a tree, and lovers are its shade’</span></i><span lang="EN-US">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Excerpted from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love is a Stranger</i> by Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">...A<i> </i></span></o:p></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>Monsieur F.Hénin, l'homme du monde et entrepeneur elegant...</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have been a loyal devotee of Jovoy
perfumes since purchasing my first bottle of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gardez-Moi</i>, Bertrand Duchaufour’s dazzling and luscious
re-imagining of the house’s cult scent from 1926. It originally appeared in a
Baccarat bottle shaped like a cat, one of four whimsical animal bottles launched
by Jovoy at the time. His diaphanous portrait of gardenia is one of the most
beautiful in the business, the blooms moist and tumbled joyfully with tomato
leaf, lilies, mimosa, jasmine, a raspberry accord, cedar and styrax. It smells
divine on skin, a cool breeze of white floral weather as you idle in the shade
of summer trees hung with heady blossom. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I bought it on a whim, well more of a
craving really; I wanted a quality gardenia for my collection and my instincts
and Bertrand’s track record with white florals sold me. I remember the first
time I tried <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gardez-Moi</i> it felt like
someone switching on a bright white light next to my eyes; the sensation was so
intense. I love its mix of indolic plush and fruity insolence. But there is
great artistry in the floral work, the bouquet of white flowers with that
gorgeous gardenia as the centerpiece is spectacularly assembled, fashioned it
seems from porcelain and snow. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A certain Madame Blanche Antoinette Rose
Reneaux founded Jovoy in 1923, using her nickname Joe and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voy</i> part of her husband Bertie Istvan
Arvoy’s surname, hence the name Jovoy. She became Blanche Arvoy and as well as
Jovoy also founded Corday, a line of perfumes named after the heroine of the
French revolution Charlotte Corday, who was so angered and traumatised by the
ongoing bloody Terror she murdered Marat, one of the regime’s more heinous
architects in his bath, where he often spent whole days soaking due to a
particularly leprous-like skin condition. He would wrap his head in a turban soaked
in vinegar. Sadly Corday’s self-sacrifice (she died on the guillotine) only
served to make Marat into a revolutionary martyr. Anyway, Blanche’s Corday line
was successful; fragrances like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Toujours
Moi, Tzigane</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rue de la Paix</i>
named after Corday’s address in Paris captured a romantic zeitgeist, especially
as the House moved to the United States, selling its romantic, sensual vision
of Parisian olfactive boudoir chic to the booming American luxury market. Both
lines dwindled out and had essentially vanished by the sixties, that particular
style of prewar vintage aromatics had been set in scented stone by Caron,
Chanel and particularly Guerlain and they would come to epitomise this
grandiose, lush tonality form of perfumed storytelling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSl77urdK5SfMLqNe7E4bRg70UeS1AWaN8ZMgPdJKVlexrML9nnWPwmP_HYvddGQyDSdo21ue24mnNmhPlzraReZOmYXXDAztrPU4Zi2Z51xdIcpfOhXJ0v5fLL6vFYonRU8-EB5sghMQ/s1600/FrancoisHenin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1075" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSl77urdK5SfMLqNe7E4bRg70UeS1AWaN8ZMgPdJKVlexrML9nnWPwmP_HYvddGQyDSdo21ue24mnNmhPlzraReZOmYXXDAztrPU4Zi2Z51xdIcpfOhXJ0v5fLL6vFYonRU8-EB5sghMQ/s320/FrancoisHenin.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Monsieur François Hénin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(Thank you Aspects Beauty PR</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">for the image...)</span></td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Then along came the well-travelled and urbane
Monsieur François Hénin who acquired the romantic remains of Maison Jovoy and
decided not only to breathe new life into the house but also to use the
renaissance as a glamorous and vital starting point for an exquisite destination
niche perfume store, one that would stock a curated collection of the finest perfumes
from around the world. While there is some obvious crossover with other
boutiques, there is something special about Jovoy, the brands are beautifully chosen,
a mix of alluring luxurious niche mingled with a decisively personal touch chosen
by Francois who really understands the whims and machinations of this fickle
scented business. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US">He spent time in Asia in a former incarnation
sourcing raw materials for the perfume industry, so he has a particularly expert
knowledge of ingredients. This I think is reflected in Jovoy’s preoccupation
with exceptional, well-judged materials and the quality of the lines being
sold. Brands like Aedes, Indult, Neela Vermeire, MDCI, Masque Milano, Tauer,
Atelier des Ors, Dusita and Fueguia 1833 are all exemplary houses whose
dedication to utilising the best possible materials radiates from their perfumes.
This combination of François’ experience and savoir-faire has crystalised in
the flagship boutique </span>at 4 Rue
Castiglione in the 1<sup>st</sup> Arrondissement in Paris. In a previous review
of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/search?q=jovoy">Sombre Dessins</a></i>, one of the most
beautiful extraits de parfums in Jovoy’s own collection I described the
interior as: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">..<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like a jewel box, the lush lacquer red and
wood interior designed by Géraldine Prieur’s Rouge Absolu agency that
specialises in creating distinctive chromatic dress codes for internal spaces.
It is a red of vampish nails, passion, fever and provocation. This vivid
setting provides a sensual and compelling ground for the retail presentation of
such an eclectic array of maisons et marques</i>.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAqGZ_Dxl9aFu8HgbVj3uiRPBeNukYbhBj4uxn_elYbCfqmqIfEFaSI0mo2_6D2QG403aBaHAnEH_bbxvuqi-0a7dVEW2OinQEXXFoyUH3QhNLlH8gbgVJn47WA5rrw32WoO1CtIUI7U/s1600/jovoyint2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAqGZ_Dxl9aFu8HgbVj3uiRPBeNukYbhBj4uxn_elYbCfqmqIfEFaSI0mo2_6D2QG403aBaHAnEH_bbxvuqi-0a7dVEW2OinQEXXFoyUH3QhNLlH8gbgVJn47WA5rrw32WoO1CtIUI7U/s320/jovoyint2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">So alongside a
moreish library of haute niche and luxury perfumes, François also has a superb
line of his own beautifully rendered perfumes and extraits. As I mentioned
earlier, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Gardez-Moi</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> was my first, but
hardly my last, the samples that accompanied that gorgeous gardenia led me to a
passionate devotion to this most elegant of houses. I have the milky,
opalescent woodiness of </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Sombres Dessins</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">,
created by Amélie Bourgeois, such weird ghostly thing, but so utterly
unbearably lovely and </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Psychédelique</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">,
Jovoy’s deeply, fruity, mulchy huge patchouli that you can almost eat it. The
mix of smoke and vanilla is fabulous. It’s sweet, muddy and sexy. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yle01STJnHd1g5krD6Gcswhru93gYpZUBxTLCEXtXedbWgyiVb66JOm3YplZZPMFATFeTB4ebnu57DZ0dCf27W-LtZtGGKWr3uQiH_PHyrArLjWY6V0NdsMJ_o8ImySyhr1Egi-QW58/s1600/threejovoys.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yle01STJnHd1g5krD6Gcswhru93gYpZUBxTLCEXtXedbWgyiVb66JOm3YplZZPMFATFeTB4ebnu57DZ0dCf27W-LtZtGGKWr3uQiH_PHyrArLjWY6V0NdsMJ_o8ImySyhr1Egi-QW58/s320/threejovoys.png" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's Jovoys...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My other
favourites are Cécile Zarokian’s masterly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Private
Label</i>, a leather scent that François wears as his signature. Cécile credits
François with supporting and taking a huge risk on her when she graduated when
no one else did, allowing her free rein to create what would become <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Private Label</i> and making her mark. It is
one of her finest works. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L’Art de La
Guerre</i> is a beautifully imagined take on the fougère by Vanina Murraciole,
using a piquant crimson rhubarb note to counterpoint a slightly dirty leather
base and scrubby ochre immortelle. The desired clean <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">soapiness</i> note floats like a ghost of fougères past in the heart of
the scent. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rouge Assassin</i> is my final
pick, again another amazing Amélie Bourgeois composition of bruised waxen
lipstick tones and grey mournful iris. It’s not exactly the implied glossy red
of its title, more the lipstick femme fatale in old film noirs dying to redeem
herself for the ambiguous hero. Even though the film is black and white, you
know her lips are red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Jovoy perfumes have
immense presence and sophistication as they journey on the skin. They have
lovely weight and François and his collaborators interpret the classic
perfumery tropes with wit, density and sophistication. In 2015 François
announced the launch of something a little different, a beautiful Art Deco
infused line called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jeroboam</i>, all
housed in sensual opaque smoke-black flask-style 30ml bottles. The perfumer is
Vanina Murraciole and the collection debuted with five: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino, Hauto, Miksado, Insulo</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oriento</i>. They are all extrait strength and two more; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vespero</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ambra</i> have just joined after debuting at Esxence 2017 in Milan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvLn_Dz-we1oWOR57hLl50rp0hUhcyQ9bVN242AYg_DHycvwl6JjpxACKpNOpNGU3HMiehjldn-x_JYmzUiD3lffLaTfGa0X1zUp1RPqgMAIhMEtSunQ2Pfeui0DItfxcOT97ezX458o/s1600/cover1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvLn_Dz-we1oWOR57hLl50rp0hUhcyQ9bVN242AYg_DHycvwl6JjpxACKpNOpNGU3HMiehjldn-x_JYmzUiD3lffLaTfGa0X1zUp1RPqgMAIhMEtSunQ2Pfeui0DItfxcOT97ezX458o/s320/cover1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">The five original Jeroboam perfume extraits</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">There is a gilded
oriental extravagance to the line; a little touch of outré French music hall
meets faded Deco antiquity. The bottles are beautiful and precious in the hand.
I do love a 30ml size and the tactile curves of the Jeroboam bottles are
addictively playful. This elegantly conceived compact size is in converse
contradiction to the name of the line, referring to the classic three-litre
bottle size of champagne. I like the rather cheeky idea of these brazen sensual
perfumes declaring they are may not be jeroboam in size but they very much are
in intent, ambition and aromatic sass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘W<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hat was nothing more than a creative
olfactory exploration, a game between Vanina and me, led to the genesis of a
completely new brand</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">François Hénin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This line is all
about the musks; specifically the ‘ball of musks’ as Francois and Vanina like
to talk about in the base of each and every one of the Jeroboam fragrances. François
was worried he was becoming asnomic to the scent and effect of musks on his
senses. This in turn led to a conversation and perfumed exploration as he says
above with Vanina whom he had already collaborated on with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L’Art de La Guerre</i> for Jovoy. The result was Vanina seeing it as a
gentle challenge, creating a special cocktail of musks for Francois to prove he
could still inhale and appreciate these extraordinary and sometimes divisive molecules.
This in turn segued in the hedonic Jeroboam collection with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> as the name suggests as the
singular source and then the musk cocktail used as a dynamic base and
infrastructure within the others, while building above with vibrant decorations
of perfumery expressions.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8XyGTqjo7OLijUxERA9KK2a0qB1MN8sjVW05TQjvEEzwEiYGq2LJSC-iDrC-H7E1JQ616izGitfTFaKwFHfI5BgQJUZY6HdpXwu19tQcrUYKCGpo4xo-HmJKAYDhDT0I7tVpteRvs-w/s1600/vm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8XyGTqjo7OLijUxERA9KK2a0qB1MN8sjVW05TQjvEEzwEiYGq2LJSC-iDrC-H7E1JQ616izGitfTFaKwFHfI5BgQJUZY6HdpXwu19tQcrUYKCGpo4xo-HmJKAYDhDT0I7tVpteRvs-w/s320/vm.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Perfumer: Vanina Murraciole</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The names of the
perfumes </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Origino, Hauto, Miksado, Insulo</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">,
</span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Oriento</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> and the two new additions </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Vespero</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> and Ambra sound like characters
in some 1950’s pulp sci-fi novella, but the key to the inspiration is the ‘O’
that most of them end in, reflecting their Esperanto origins. </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Origino</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> means origin, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Hauto</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> translates as skin, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Insulo</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> means island, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Miksado</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">, mixing and </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Oriento</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> means East. With the new launches, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Vespero</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> is an Esperanto term derived from Latin meaning evening and
Ambra is self-explanatory.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Ludwik L. Zamenhof</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I’m quite intrigued
by the use of Esperanto for the names; it’s an auxiliary constructed tongue
invented by a Polish Jewish ophthalmologist called Ludwik L. Zamenhof in the
1880s. He lived in Białystok in north eastern Poland, a city brimming with many
nationalities, which prompted Zamenhof to dream of a simple and easy to learn <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Internacia Linguo</i> as he would call it that
everyone could use to communicate with each other. His first and most
influential book <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Unua Libro</i> (First Book) was published on 26<sup>th</sup> July 1887
under the pseudonym of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Doktoro Esperanto</i>,
which translated literally as The Doctor Who Hopes… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is estimated that
today approximately two million people globally speak Esperanto to varying degrees;
it is a language that must be learned in order to be understood. Zamenhof’s
dream of a united world speaking his eccentric mix of roots, declensions and
brutally simple grammar sadly didn’t materialise. I first came across it at
university studying languages taking an extra subject in linguistics and
phonetics. I was fascinated by the idea of an entirely constructed language and
I spent some time researching how Zamenhof had built his linguistic world. His
vision was remarkable, to create a Eurocentric tongue that would have echoes of
other languages while at the same time the basics could realistically be picked
up and learned over a couple of days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4w2LrciSQKwa9KSs23hB7EsZFxB_OD0OKFEziO3MvxDaynzYiaqy1a8vbDjwyK00B3VYoA7qIMJGjmsIIVxClQoNldq3hpUthRi5xFIclcCFZ7lvXnA-q6qKu-JWssrz6_PuEkdI_sw/s1600/Esperanrtoposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="722" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4w2LrciSQKwa9KSs23hB7EsZFxB_OD0OKFEziO3MvxDaynzYiaqy1a8vbDjwyK00B3VYoA7qIMJGjmsIIVxClQoNldq3hpUthRi5xFIclcCFZ7lvXnA-q6qKu-JWssrz6_PuEkdI_sw/s320/Esperanrtoposter.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Discovering the
Jeroboam line and their quirky names is the first time I’ve come across
Esperanto since those uni days and it was quite a surprise. But Zamenhof’s
hopeful dream of a globally communicative tongue is perhaps echoed in the
universality of scent, which is almost a language of its own. So many of us are
connected by skin, scent and memory, entwined across electronic ether via he
addictive allure of perfumery. From South Africa to Argentina, Switzerland,
Portland to New York, Iceland and Malaysia we recognise a binding lingua franca
in the language of notes, accords and compulsive beauty of collecting olfaction
and discussing it. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaygFxuWQbeEJCIVLe8dIPZxeI0899eTncvpBPGzoA-osfcsnapjlC-nrykauN8zbiWW4x7WbpNBMfvx76qccrQ_gx5idVO1kj4ojubPSQKFBM5jWYgqVPTuDQ3psyVbgQ06l0rQSPJeM/s1600/Origino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="657" data-original-width="657" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaygFxuWQbeEJCIVLe8dIPZxeI0899eTncvpBPGzoA-osfcsnapjlC-nrykauN8zbiWW4x7WbpNBMfvx76qccrQ_gx5idVO1kj4ojubPSQKFBM5jWYgqVPTuDQ3psyVbgQ06l0rQSPJeM/s320/Origino.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jeroboam: Origino</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> is the baseline perfume in the line, quite simply the original.
The bracing and herby crush of instantly likeable and rather moreish materials is
assembled in a hazy-addictive airport musk-laden way. The airport reference is
not a criticism; I am one of those people who actually find the buzzy white fug
of department store perfume halls and duty free scent areas oddly reassuring.
So the déja-vu undertones to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i>
and consequently the whole Jeroboam line make me feel happy and cradled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">If you ever crush
pink peppercorns say in a stone mortar you will recognise the spiky oiled flash
in the top of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i>. This has been
mixed with a cold juniper note that smells like nutmeg cough linctus; the whole
thing bright with an effervescent minty fresh bergamot vibe. I always find
anything with juniper in it obviously brings to mind gin and its associative
botanicals, not my favourite thing. I worked for a brand who produced a good
gin scent, crisp, airy and chilled, then ruined it with (denied) reformulation
making it smell thin, like the equivalent of supermarket supersaver gin rather
than a high-end artisan distilled spirit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I remember a
brainstorming session in a trendy London gin bar as the scent was in the
process of being named and the brand was thinking about the marketing and PR
direction. I was poleaxed by migraine after a shitty flight down on Flybe and I
tried very hard to concentrate, but it was very muggy too and all I could smell
was gin, gin, gin, gin, and gin. I don’t drink anyway, so I was only sniffing and
taking part in the chat, but that juniper odour and the assorted botanicals
banter became amplified in the pulsating tidal ebb and flow of the migraine. It
was not one of my best days. That said, I can just about level out my juniper
heebie-jeebies for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> as Vanina
has created something fluid and wearable. It is a pretty linear expression of extrait;
in fact all of these Jeroboam perfumes have similar phantom personas, going
onto the skin with applied simplicity and straightforward purpose. There is a
little manoeuvring in the early stages of each scent, but these elegantly
defined, smooth differences drop each time into Vanina’s enigmatic musks and
you have this really rather addictive Jeroboam signature cling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have worn this
collection every which way, on their own, layered in pairs and trios; sometimes
they harmonise, other times they disconcert depending on how I feel. They
mingle well, powerful enough to survive marriage, but also modest enough to
allow the blurring and feathering of edges that is such a careful feature of
the line. I know the Jeroboam scents are divisive and so be it. You can’t
please everyone, it would be a boring aromatic world if small brands set out
with intent to mollify and delight everyone; what would be the point in that?
You will either like this style of synth-boosted construction or not. My tastes
have always eclectic, perhaps a little less so now after prolonged bout of
illness, but put quite simply if perfumes, whatever they are, work on my skin
and bring me joy, make me muse, I will tarry a while in their company. This
applies to Jeroboam. I also implicitly trust François Hénin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">So as I mentioned
earlier <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> is the baseline scent
in the Jeroboam line up and as such smells deliberately enigmatic. Vanina’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boule de muscs</i> has a persuasive
fuzziness that I happen to love as an effect; it’s rather like the sound of
quietly played lo-fi ambient electronica, white and gelid. I have always loved
the scent of synthetic materials in perfume; it sits quite happily alongside my
burgeoning love of natural perfumery. It tallies with my lifelong passion for
mournful snowy electronic music and sci-fi fiction, anime and cinema. I like
the juxtaposition of manmade things against the natural world. Haters will hate
and I will always accept their right to dislike. It is the way of things. I am
not a huge Guerlain fan, but say this out loud and you would think I had killed
someone’s pet. I prefer to dream of cyberskin soaked in synthetic musks, ambers
and captured floral molecules. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">There is only a
small deviation in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> from it’s
liner intent. As it fades, it takes on the odour of milky white stone, all the
slick pink pepper pop & drang virtually vanishes. Otherwise, it is a
moreish and elegant creation that perhaps takes a few wearings to fully understand
its mechanisms. Linear does not necessarily mean simple, it just means you need
to pay more attention at the beginning as the materials hit skin. I am lucky
enough to have the other perfumes to compare and try alongside <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> as François and Vanina would
like us too, each is obviously different and yet still manages to echo <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> because of the musk template
laid down so adroitly by Vanina. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IebPcFaBL4WRj2HioqEffTwRgp2TAv-dGOq7RxPJq0vY5-WDmqvsWiU_zKXJPwpmlkQ5TClqxgiri4A8h5Scu208ub-jaIqVmgodPtz9pThYHxD03DOV6acE-vpeRIzFCaIWFeywpIY/s1600/Insulo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1509" data-original-width="1600" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IebPcFaBL4WRj2HioqEffTwRgp2TAv-dGOq7RxPJq0vY5-WDmqvsWiU_zKXJPwpmlkQ5TClqxgiri4A8h5Scu208ub-jaIqVmgodPtz9pThYHxD03DOV6acE-vpeRIzFCaIWFeywpIY/s320/Insulo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jeroboam: Insulo</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Insulo</i> was the one on paper I really wanted to try and it didn’t
disappoint at all, lavishly fulfilling my vanilla cravings. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Insulo</i> is Esperanto for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">island</i>, the island in question being
Madagascar, tropical and spiritual home to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vanilla
planifolia</i>, the sensual compulsive and wildly expensive pod. It is a
patisserie jasmine, the petals less indolic, more sugar sculpture, moulded and
marked by the heat of fingers. Amid this sweetness I smell a lovely wafer note,
soft and crumbly, just enough to halt any potential syrupy excess. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I love all sorts of
vanilla fragrances; it is one of the few notes that plays havoc with my
discriminatory self-imposed rules and regulations of scent. I.e.. I will quite
happy indulge in celebrity neon synth vanilla gaudiness as well as extraits
created from meticulously sourced single estate Madagascan or Mexican pods.
Vanilla as gooey moreish spoon licking cake haze or rum-soaked, leathered
sheath I love the gamut, the mix of styles varieties. One day will be the
joyous abandon of Comptoir Sud Pacifique’s vanillic cream and fruit concoctions
and then the next few days, dark and elegant interpretations such as the
feverish <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanille</i> by Mona di Orio and
feral, singed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lune Féline</i> by Atelier
des Ors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Jasmine and vanilla
are almost a clichéd arrangement in perfume, however in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Insulo</i>, they are infiltrated by Vanina’s ball of airy musks that
adds sweet steam and flattens out the queasiness I sometimes get with this
style of custard jasmine. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Insulo</i> is
smart, acidic vanilla on its own but smells great mixed with generous layers of
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hauto</i>. Since I rid myself of a more formal job last year, I have
retuned to my Shia LaBeouf/Kristen Stewart inspired layered grunge wear. Grey
on grey and black, t-shirts ripped, always dark jeans, plus fours worn as board
shorts, my beloved Adidas trainers mixed with handmade pieces I’ve harvested over
the years. This suite of Jeroboam scents can be approached in much the same
way, intermingling effects and themes; they coalesce well but don’t feel
abandoned or overtly thin solo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Insulo</i> has that slightly singed plasticised note I rather like in
certain vanillic formulae, the scent of ethyl vanillin crystals ignited on a
plastic plate, leaving a tacky airborne residue as it starts to fade. I’ve worn
small amounts and it’s dessert-kissed skin and in big indulgent doses you can
really sense the full impact of eye-popping synthetic vanilla and the smoky
nuance of naturalistic pod and seed. It is unashamedly sweet in places and the
vanilla shines up a huge light under the happy jasmine, making <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Insulo</i> a joy to wear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jeroboam: Hauto</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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time tuberose, in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hauto</i>, (the
Esperanto word for skin) mixed with rose, pineapple and bergamot. The tuberose
doesn’t have the usual fatty, waxen bloom but a more detached soapy grain. When
you first spray it the pineapple produces a fruity detergent off-kilter effect
I didn’t care for too much initially. But this slightly abrasive start of pina
colada and bleached floral settles gently into a gentle creamy scent of freshly
minted paper and citrus splashed leaves with just enough echo of that original
tropical headiness to retain interest. There is Rose de Mai in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hauto</i>, I didn’t really pay too much
attention at first, the fruity blanched overture is quite difficult to get past
but they do relax and the rose is picked up by a dash of bergamot in the top.
For a little while the rose note feels like petals in iced water. Once you
smell the rose, you will always notice it and it makes the correct balance to
the needy tuberose and pineapple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hauto</i> doesn’t have the best of drydowns, that delicious fruit and
white flower pairing falls apart a little too quickly for my liking, but while
it lasts it is lovely, a simple yet effective blend of materials, erring on the
synthetic side, floating once again on the Jeroboam musks. As befitting its
name, it stays pretty close to skin and if you want a big effect, you will need
to spray a lot on. I preferred my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hauto</i>
quiet and softly spoken, but I must admit it’s not one from the line I would
wear a lot; there is just something a little juddering for me in the pineapple vs.
floral rendezvous. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcg0QVkKWi7HyfyZk70N_2sdBlsyJYIGNaYc5F_jf0u-vhoF9zJk1gbvrbJzlgUaMrsQjPduWRwQVYyt6DNcrCYZahtNN3KBlnUtMwox5taDiVbid9bsNTl91sRAHIJ-8NJXoXhTpIns/s1600/Miksado.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1266" data-original-width="1600" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcg0QVkKWi7HyfyZk70N_2sdBlsyJYIGNaYc5F_jf0u-vhoF9zJk1gbvrbJzlgUaMrsQjPduWRwQVYyt6DNcrCYZahtNN3KBlnUtMwox5taDiVbid9bsNTl91sRAHIJ-8NJXoXhTpIns/s320/Miksado.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jeroboam: Miksado</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Miksado</i> is quite beautiful and fast became a foxy favourite, a sweet chypré-esque foggy scent of chewy resins and woods. The saffron/Safraleine and cedar combo
smell quite prickly and medicinal as it opens, lending <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Miksado</i> (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mixed</i> in Esperanto)
a distinctive hospital vibe, which I don’t mind and actually find rather
comforting. On the mouillette the bergamot was more pronounced, less so on skin
and the patchouli/guaiac was a blur of bitterness whereas on skin it felt more like
a gourmand facet mixed with a green chilli effect, which could be the geranium
or a vague chypré suggestion of the labdanum and patchouli.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Miksado</i> has a lovely blend of sweet and savoury elements on flesh and a
certain metallic herbiness. It did remind me a little of some of Betrand
Duchaufour’s more transparent work for L’Artisan Parfumeur like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Poivre Piquant</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Piment Brûlant</i> in the rise and fall of delicate notes and its
veiled effect on skin. From time to time to time it just seems to vanish and
then reappear again. As with all the Jeroboams <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Miksado</i> is anchored by Vanina’s musks that polish and blear the
formulae to produce a particularly addictive style. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnSVxQutxV72b5M2605PAC2yXR5_VlK3m8cAxC0dq5TCsfIlFStkpLUSrxXP_qvnGqwlzWH0vfZzeKOSkcl6gGpmhYi_vJAUUlIVFwKrcdLjfWD6_f1hjwcS37wa9z2JC5qw_fuMpBtQ/s1600/Oriento.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1591" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnSVxQutxV72b5M2605PAC2yXR5_VlK3m8cAxC0dq5TCsfIlFStkpLUSrxXP_qvnGqwlzWH0vfZzeKOSkcl6gGpmhYi_vJAUUlIVFwKrcdLjfWD6_f1hjwcS37wa9z2JC5qw_fuMpBtQ/s320/Oriento.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jeroboam: Oriento</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oriento, </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the Jeroboam rose-oud</span> is my other favourite, a lovely mix of Turkish delight tinted
rose, dry oud and saffron rubbed with candied lemon and dried apple. Quite a robust
apple note actually like Calvados being burned off an elegant dessert in a
darkened room. I get a scent of petrol on my skin that must be the styrax and that
basmati rice whiff of the saffron. Overall it suggests a Turkish/Istanbul ambience
you can smell in some of the Nishane perfumes, Keiko Meichiri’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Loukhoum</i> and L’Artisan’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Traversée de Bosphore</i>. The musks provide
powder and dust, cover if you like for the notes to swirl and play in. They
don’t exactly settle; it’s more a case of synthetic collision and rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I really like the
metal rose over singed apple effect; a certain reluctant sweetness sneaks in
towards the end, just enough to offset any cloying potential from the jellied rose
and aphrodisiac ylang. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oriento</i> is great
layered with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Insulo</i>; a jammy piquancy
meets white patisserie charm. I think though it works best layered under <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i>, the musks in both fragrances
seem to swell the upper notes, the apple and scattered rose heads of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oriento</i> and the more masculine barbershop
edge of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Origino</i>. It is an interesting
and moreish hybrid scent mix that showcases the expert skills of Vanina and
François and the studied simplicity of these Jeroboam musks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I like the fact I
can pick up any one of the current collection, apply liberally and enjoy each
moment of its fizzy elegant lifespan. But I can also layer, mingle and play
with the fragrances, find my own recipe if you like and still smell wonderful,
the musk bases providing a kind of reference point across the line. They are
elegantly easy to like, these Jeroboam extraits, super concentrated juice in sublime
compact flacons that ooze class and more than a little touch of personal
decadence. I know this style of scent is not for everyone, the synthetic musk
bases that Vanina has created for François are an acquired taste, but one that
is worth sampling and wearing as skin often surprises you with its embracing of
such unexpected things. I personally find them a set of perfumes with delicious
and joyful ease, the constructs a pleasure to explore; Jeroboam is a
fascinating collection of stylish and wearable adaptability. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Disclosure: A huge personal
thank you to Sharon Whiting at Aspects Beauty PR for kindness, friendship &
samples. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></o:p></div>
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<i><o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">For more </span></o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">information on Jeroboam and Jovoy, please follow the link below:</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.jovoyparis.com/en/"><i>JOVOY PARIS</i></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">©TheSilverFox June 2017</span><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-29870331063381445342017-05-12T23:09:00.000+01:002017-05-25T13:28:28.378+01:00Poetics of Olfaction: The Divine Homage of Pissara Umavijani & Parfums Dusita<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-PWJVoTreOxXEoxP_KWpOWnyPHCV6CF0h7erppHTg3tUzECufF_haCwY9WXiiVmPL0Dy8ASdVLcuBtMl-t099TMcRMobhZKj4WSosXcgDhZQKUuiFiqncTNcc9e1otNA-BvqSx7oThw/s1600/poems2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-PWJVoTreOxXEoxP_KWpOWnyPHCV6CF0h7erppHTg3tUzECufF_haCwY9WXiiVmPL0Dy8ASdVLcuBtMl-t099TMcRMobhZKj4WSosXcgDhZQKUuiFiqncTNcc9e1otNA-BvqSx7oThw/s400/poems2.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘Somehow, that dark corner out there<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">will never cease to fill me<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">with mysteries<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">of the forest that was, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">sending in one whiff after another <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">the enticing aroma<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">of ripe guava<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">hidden<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in the heart of the night</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(‘At The Hotel’</i> by Montri Umavijani, 1991) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The story of Pissara
Umavijani is a seductive narrative of almost fairytale proportions, blending
oriental perfume traditions with classic French majesty, dreams, poetry, and dislocation.
The story is one of devout daughterly love and most vitally of all, joyfully
alive at the centre of this perfumed scenario is Pissara herself, a startlingly
beautiful Thai woman who it seems can charm leaves from trees, flowers from
frozen ground, smiles from a jaded world, awards from peers and lovestruck words
from a myriad of keyboard scribes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">2016 was a very
auspicious year for Pissara and her trio of debut scents from Parfums Dusita. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oudh Infini, Issara</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie de L’Amour </i>originally launched
in March 2016 at Jovoy, 4 Rue de Castiglione, Paris at the haute luxe perfume
showroom and boutique owned and run by the wonderful François Hénin. Jovoy are
Pissara’s distributer and interestingly in a previous life François worked
across Asia sourcing essential oils and raw materials for the perfumery
industry so I can imagine he must have been deeply impressed by the creamy beauty
and lavish standards of Pissara’s olfactive materials. Two more perfumes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sillage Blanc</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Douceur de Siam</i> are new for 2017, taking her line to a quintet
of maddeningly lovely quality. Her recent feted appearance at Esxence 2017 in
Milan and the universally positive reaction to her line only confirmed to the
world what so many of us already knew, that Pissara is someone determined to do
things her own way and that way is humble, harmonious and generous. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11ijtPz9gGm7m5w1Tf4IkIMAcNfnx8rwtyrPtKOMvLGoCjTqiMOClauVzlLzc4AlhQujCN6Ycu3dvOR0TpQGYO3jZ-nXeRU_glZnwqKyiG5dWtjB_JWyoOtyTSlbq_go8QNWpr-tWXfk/s1600/bottles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11ijtPz9gGm7m5w1Tf4IkIMAcNfnx8rwtyrPtKOMvLGoCjTqiMOClauVzlLzc4AlhQujCN6Ycu3dvOR0TpQGYO3jZ-nXeRU_glZnwqKyiG5dWtjB_JWyoOtyTSlbq_go8QNWpr-tWXfk/s320/bottles.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Oudh Infini, Issara & <br />Mélodie de L'Amour </i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Pissara <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> Dusita; she embodies the spirit of
the materials, the provenance and emotional content of the line. She is the
light behind the fragrances, the one who dreamed the original concepts, working
with a Grasse-based team to hone and realise her profoundly personal vison. You
only have to listen to the various video snippets of her on social media or
read interviews to comprehend how deeply entwined she is with her perfumed
stories. A few gossips have
sniped about whether or not she is the actual nose, but she undoubtedly is the creator, her heart, soul and heritage flow out in and out of these extraordinary
compositions. The original thoughts, concepts and incarnations of Parfums
Dusita are Pissara Umavijani. They are her powerful, travelled and nurtured
hymns of filial love and this alone makes them real enough. How much polishing,
assistance etc has gone on I’m not sure is really relevant. She uses a excellent source of high-end materials in Grasse; this counts hugely toward the final result of the work and at the end of the
day, the five perfumes are gorgeously conceived, with love and extraordinary
technical skill. The result as so many reviews have pointed out are perfumes of
uncommon beauty and emotional content, reflecting a woman of gentle nature,
wisdom and generosity of spirit who has set out to use olfaction like music or
poetry, to pay obeisance to a loved one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uFNNwumofOEkbb_mooAQjNRXGlrA9496orL5wX_98KqNhAw2BFzL7V6MDGTCvl4eo20m5QjlH5St1tEUgpi91yqEv0JYYBi02Y1vr-thmWANVVd8PMyeW4Ix183IfyMxGO_kSr6YZ3g/s1600/pissara2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6uFNNwumofOEkbb_mooAQjNRXGlrA9496orL5wX_98KqNhAw2BFzL7V6MDGTCvl4eo20m5QjlH5St1tEUgpi91yqEv0JYYBi02Y1vr-thmWANVVd8PMyeW4Ix183IfyMxGO_kSr6YZ3g/s400/pissara2.JPG" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Pissara Umavijani <br />of Parfums Dusita</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Dusita perfumes
are Pissara’s olfactory homage to her beloved father Montri Umavijani, a much-revered
Thai poet whose precise and evocative cadences x-ray love, commitment, the details
of life, devotion and the eternal rumination of the ties that bind. She has
chosen to use the ephemeral medium of perfumery to communicate her feelings but
also to suggest much deeper and wider resonances of heritage, culture, identity
and complexities of devotion.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJXIyTTw90SV_K8PVSg9LtBNgXxAiRBb9sxfzHWJTYs1xpWTUh6FbUdqO1iXOArmeY2nwbipxGS1UXMYdnjmmmpWewsZM47_WJEz_WudnOg2_kUI8pNXei3Yoxvf7dJvlaKJIq1JJw3Y/s1600/poemsthailand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiJXIyTTw90SV_K8PVSg9LtBNgXxAiRBb9sxfzHWJTYs1xpWTUh6FbUdqO1iXOArmeY2nwbipxGS1UXMYdnjmmmpWewsZM47_WJEz_WudnOg2_kUI8pNXei3Yoxvf7dJvlaKJIq1JJw3Y/s320/poemsthailand.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The fragrances are love
letters to a beloved father, rich with expression and respect using exquisite
materials, forged from Pissara’s Siamese heritage and her love of classical
French perfumery. The mix is both intoxicating and haunting; the undeniable </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">haute luxe</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> quality of the materials hums
and glows like glittering fire. While the perfumes are dazzling in flowering execution,
they have a sense of otherness, a seductive awareness of self. While the notes
and accords bloom and settle, a voice talks softly of love in a room, the words
just out of reach, but you are aware nonetheless they are meant for you.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As my essays take time
to collate I often have weeks and months to really live in the fragrances I’m
writing on, immersing myself in every aspect of their personalities. This is
important to me; I don’t choose lightly the work I cover, it needs to catch
something within me, ignite a flame, cast a flurry of associative words and
thoughts across the flickering screens of my senses. Each time I have returned
to Pissara’s symphonic aromas I find myself lost again to their beauty. Whilst
there are recognisble olfactive tropes within the collection, they have been
rendered with such distinctive and considered brio as to be liquid art. Patience
is required to absorb the nuanced flavours and slow dance of notes and dynamically
entwined structures. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29mrLOlgoA4yfDxyFIQYNtyhOd9ypV15hDYVQUx32kw-g3k5_NCUwXmQqJ372z3sfgTLGLB9DVWotuAicWA5zMxkToOujW6hJqlCenYo0oMC7MtwAX6lHI1UxKhIbxEZGYfZ1ZCHY0VQ/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29mrLOlgoA4yfDxyFIQYNtyhOd9ypV15hDYVQUx32kw-g3k5_NCUwXmQqJ372z3sfgTLGLB9DVWotuAicWA5zMxkToOujW6hJqlCenYo0oMC7MtwAX6lHI1UxKhIbxEZGYfZ1ZCHY0VQ/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Duista samples, Background art:<br /><i>She, Serene</i> by Vichit Nongnual</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Above all though, it
is important never to forget that while each one of these Parfums Dusita
fragrances holds its own, it is as a gathering of poetic ambrosia that they
truly dazzle. Pissara envisaged them as an anthology of scented poems, offered
up as aromatic, sacred vapour to her father, molecules as words, accords as
verse. Like so much poetry, the perfumes invite re-reading and reinterpretation.
I found that each time I returned to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oudh
Infini</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Douceur de Siam</i>, my
skin and nose had different things to say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Pissara wanted a
perfumed narrative not only to reflect her love and respect for her poet father
but also to echo her own movement in life, travelling with her mother, a
philosophy teacher, from Thailand to Paris and the influence that both cultures
has had over her and her journey to Dusita. A profoundly personal mix of
Siamese heritage, French culture and haute Parfumerie traditions. She was
raised in Bangkok and moved to Paris in 2011, already with perfumes on her
mind. They really coalesced when she found a Grasse-based perfumer who
encouraged and supported her ideas and helped the formulae blossom.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ba2_IM3cxvxGV4bzOVLlPqSnLWdxla_BKSnLjMwBTQX2AoTLdRKHA_7nTOIqjXMTbXrKFBz2XSWocZH_f0RJGC_OO3FMVoDq9RpgjVU0yZLcIJhXtozQYpPKkvi-_nrTuiAA0-QQbtM/s1600/pissara+mum+%2526+dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ba2_IM3cxvxGV4bzOVLlPqSnLWdxla_BKSnLjMwBTQX2AoTLdRKHA_7nTOIqjXMTbXrKFBz2XSWocZH_f0RJGC_OO3FMVoDq9RpgjVU0yZLcIJhXtozQYpPKkvi-_nrTuiAA0-QQbtM/s320/pissara+mum+%2526+dad.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">A young Pissara with her mother on the left<br />& Montri on the right...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I watched an absorbing
series recently on the BBC about the flora and fauna of Thailand and the
intrinsic way this has been woven into the Buddhist belief system practised by
over ninety per cent of the population. I now think this plays an interesting
and emotive part in Pissara’s Dusita collection. Thai Buddhism is quite unique,
imported originally from Sri Lanka, mingling over centuries with the country’s
own entrenched and animist folk religion, which incorporates the use of
talismans and charms to invocate gods and spirits. Now I am no Buddhist
scholar, so you will have to forgive any doctrinal faux pas but Dharma or
Buddhist teachings ask us to live ethically and not cause harm to others. The
key to happiness comes from within, through personal practice not through
personal enjoyment. A seemingly simple message that should be glaringly easy to
live by, but how many of us do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPsZhjJ7Nf0DAH0FqFufU1zngTajQZWKJ4-V6w7xHM2ks0KVcMYN88bwXxdLIUuZ-izja4K3CdvHUO4rkwkRmJJMWaCBQZD8MKt773wNLX6QCSfp2GvBLcVRullVY9jTB5UktQK5Ix40c/s1600/buddha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPsZhjJ7Nf0DAH0FqFufU1zngTajQZWKJ4-V6w7xHM2ks0KVcMYN88bwXxdLIUuZ-izja4K3CdvHUO4rkwkRmJJMWaCBQZD8MKt773wNLX6QCSfp2GvBLcVRullVY9jTB5UktQK5Ix40c/s320/buddha.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">While I was watching
the documentary I marvelled at the deep-rooted and astonishing harmony of man,
petal, tree, root, bird, insect and animal life in Thailand. So much mutual
respect for cellular existence. I knew it was very much a part of Thai culture
but seeing it played out in respect and love for elephants, ants, flowers,
crops and sacred trees was immensely moving. It is often referred to as a </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">religion of nature</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There is no spot on the ground where men had
not died and therefore every part of nature will be endowed with a spirit,
these will be the spirits of the trees, the mountains and the weather.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Buddha)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Pissara’s collection
feels rooted in her Thai heritage and the powerful spiritual respect the Thai
people have for all living things. Marrying this to a determined longing to
respect her father and his poignant words has coalesced into an aromatic
assembly of intensely poetic juice. A number of people have told me they have
connected to Pissara’s work in a way they haven’t connected to perfumes before;
they seem to have an emotional resonance rare for contemporary perfume. I find
them immensely beautiful, sometimes overwhelmingly so; they have affecting and subtle
moods created by memory, attention to detail and those high quality materials
delivering a persuasive and immersive experience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dusita</i> is an old Siamese word for paradise, a concept important to
Pissara’s father Montri in his travels and poetry and now to Pissara herself in
the exploration of scented self in her collection. Each of the perfumes has a
distinctive character, built around particular materials and yet as a
collection, like family members, there is DNA and genetics at play with echoes
of each other flickering through the reflective facets. As individuals they are
persuasively, magically lovely, but as a collection they are outstanding. It is
unusual for a debut collection to have this kind of artistic cohesion and
thematic elegance. This is reflective of Pissara herself and her glowing
kindness and the obvious passion and emotion imbued into each formula. The
collaborative process that has allowed her to assemble her ideas and hone her
unique vision has only served to enhance the delicacy of her work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The initial shock of
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i> is the sweet shudder of
terpenic pine that explodes off the skin when you first spray it. This is
mingled with a clinging animalic sage that makes the opening salvo of this,
Pissara’s first-born scent feel like wrenching open the windows in a moss-clad
cabin in a glittering night wood. The darkness is inhaled as it floods over the
moist, crumbling sill, traces of towering tree and star-lit soil in the damp
air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCf5ExLHC61kCSMqV4WxYh-yLMtLoIWNO6Tnqgi8LocbMxUQWbCPfSKPBb3XdGlkF21ZJzgA1z5323Jd1h3U4vQ_bDuqkxZ1h1gb-PhGMxUjLF3k79rHrCQFJoAonrvj0cL7kXN5-4xgM/s1600/thai+forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCf5ExLHC61kCSMqV4WxYh-yLMtLoIWNO6Tnqgi8LocbMxUQWbCPfSKPBb3XdGlkF21ZJzgA1z5323Jd1h3U4vQ_bDuqkxZ1h1gb-PhGMxUjLF3k79rHrCQFJoAonrvj0cL7kXN5-4xgM/s320/thai+forest.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Thai forest... </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is described
politely as an aromatic fougère. I’m not entirely convinced by that. This is
not to do </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Issara</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> a disservice, it is
sensational perfumery, but all these Dusita fragrances seem to do their own
gentle daring thing. They may lean towards styles for those who desire such
easy classifications but the bravura execution of notes and accords in
Pissara’s work suggests a more inherently abstract approach to olfactive
tapestry. After all, as it is with all art, one must be fully versed in the
rules in order to break and re-write them.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As that beautiful
overture settles the true hypnotic nature of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i> manifests itself into a compelling blend of tobacco, vanillic
coumarin and almost briny vetiver that for a glorious still moment conjure up
an image of umber tobacco leaves edges edged in salt crystals. I felt if I licked
my skin I would taste a mix of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fleur de
sel</i> and cigarettes. The tobacco note is quite vivid, oscillating between
finger-damp henna and air-dried blond leaves then deepening into a mantis-green
hay note that rolls back up over the opening pine needles and hangs sinuously
like a sweet stolen fag break in quiet forest air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">There is delicious
quietude in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i>; the basenotes of
musk, oakmoss and ambergris provide an earthy bed for the perfume to root
itself in. The ambergris is a noticeable presence, a narcotic, oceanic, coaxing
thing, acting as fixative and olfactive CGI, laying down a gauzy filter of
waxen oddity over these later stages. I would hesitate to call <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i> a tobacco fragrance, despite the
strong presence of the leaf in the formula; it is too simplistic a description.
It is not really a question of copying the heady inhale of perfumery tobacco,
beautiful though it is, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i> is
more concerned with herbal wanderings, a tranquil afternoon of emotions in the
trailed imaginings of smoke dreams. As if entering rooms or spaces to catch
mixed traces of someone gone before and thinking… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know that scent…I know that skin</i>…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I love the gentle
haunt of fruit as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i> finally
begins to fall away. This takes an age; Pissara’s materials have beautifully
contoured longevity on skin, thanks to their quality and assembly. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i> is so well blended, communicating
its allure so well that you are drawn over and over to inhale its curved life
and demise on your flesh. It is quite impossible to resist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElfwafV_Y2Kz3z3WAD1o6TX3pVCY989TQ7gpYjAQDUYrOfpTT37NV0YWonhtUA-ovqJtTelCxzPCTLml57r0cW8ZfYslOTLb2VuM9xgeTiuapiioqRbZ-vQPypAi8MsENoKHoEa_98C8/s1600/P%2526M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiElfwafV_Y2Kz3z3WAD1o6TX3pVCY989TQ7gpYjAQDUYrOfpTT37NV0YWonhtUA-ovqJtTelCxzPCTLml57r0cW8ZfYslOTLb2VuM9xgeTiuapiioqRbZ-vQPypAi8MsENoKHoEa_98C8/s320/P%2526M.jpg" width="221" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Pissara & Montri</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The final moments
are molecules of vintage memorial lying in an old empty cigar box found tucked
away in an attic cupboard. Once opened, it is discovered to be full of old
photographs of a man and his daughter, poems he has written, flowers she has
pressed. An odour of paper, petals, wood and distant tobacco rises, words float
like smoke and memories fall like tears. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i>
is a magical anamnesis scent that begins in a night forest of pine trees
exuding sad odour into the darkness and ends in this box of recollection, love
and treasured images imbued with ghosted smoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My feeling for you is like a flower blooming
in a empty room.’</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Montri Umavijani)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Each of Pissara’s
compositions is prefaced by a poetic excerpt of her father’s work. She very
kindly sent me an edition of Montri’s poetry, which I have by the bed and dip
into all the time. It is an anthology of poetic observation, Montri’s
autobiography in a way, noting his delicate musings and perceptions on life’s
sights, sounds, time, love and mortality. There is a tranquillity and ease to
his writing underpinned by a melancholic yearning for peace and personal
completion. The quote above is one that Pissara has used to introduce <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie De L’Amour</i>, her shockingly
beautiful showcase floral. While this charismatic indolic scent may seem like the
lush definition of swooning tropical floral, as it starts to project its potent
petal-form radiation it is in fact quite strange. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Everything stops for
a moment when you first inhale it off skin, molecules, eyes in the forest, sap
on the bark, drops of nectar on pistils and stamens, pollen on insect wing. It
is a fever dream of flowers exalted by the erotic tension of oozing honey and
overripe peach, not the coy fuzziness of Guerlain, but the trail of dropped
juice on a lover’s skin in the heat of the night and the tongue that
follows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The opening of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie De L’Amour</i> is a startling proem
of indoles, those marvellous knife-edge sexy-faecal molecules radiated by
certain narcotic white blooms and one of the loveliest I have experienced in
years. Up there with that jade wasabi flash in Olfactive Studio’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Panorama</i>, the smashed yeasty champagne
recklessness in Masque Milano’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L’Attesa</i>
and that brutal dancefloor biker jacket assault of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Tattoo</i> by covert Swiss house Ys Uzac. What ties these scents
together is singular scene setting that actually follows through with
imaginative and compelling olfactive development.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The head notes
dispense with any of the obvious herbal or citric enhancements instead offering
up a resolutely opulent and narcotic bestowal. Such a powerful yet exquisitely
gauged duo of gardenia and succulent tuberose. They are augmented by an elegantly
realised hay note and a molten amber ooze of feral honey that reeks of bee fur,
wing and saturated drones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The night blooming
Indian Jasmine rolls quite suddenly off flesh with an unctuous lick of custard
and cigarettes, reaching out from that huge shock of indoles. The hit is so
acute it feels as if you have tripped some cached aromatic wire. Many
contemporary perfumers pay lip service to white floral motifs, using them as
mere decoration and a ground for other themes and events. For a few like
Francis Kurkdjian, Dominique Ropion, Cécile Zarokian, Cristiano Canali and
Rodrigo Flores-Roux the white flower is so much more: thread, cloth <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> story. They know how to reinvent the
bloom, burn light through a multitude of imagined petals, guide us through
rooms of drifting pallidity. There are flashes of those irresistible porno
indoles in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie de L’Amour</i> but
also the revered and sacred stillness of lilies, the rubbered frisson of ylang
and the haunting fall of jasmine as evening drops like sadness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is always
tempting just to push the florality for a more grandiose tropical experience,
but by doing so the individual personas of these distinctive blooms just merge
and vanish into one another. Pissara has not shied away from the defiant
sensual intimations of the jasmine, gardenia and tuberose in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie De L’Amour</i>; she has understood
that in order to accept their dangerous eroticism one must bow down and submit
to their dangerous beauty. Two keynotes in this campaign of deference are the
peach and broom or gorse. Broom or genet absolute is a gorgeous fragrance
material with naturally occurring hay, chlorophyll and vanillic tobacco facets.
I was a big fan of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Furze</i>, a dreamy,
comforting broom and ice-creamy vanilla scent from the second edition of
Gorilla/Lush scents in 2013. In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Furze</i>
Simon Constantine used coconut and neroli to suggest sunshine on the xanthous
flowers. Pissara’s broom is paler, caressed by hay and rose, echoing that
delicious honey at the top and also the unsettling ashtray vibe of night
jasmine in the heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkl2NK4hdm1GvaY_ESzov6Dr35XQH_GbLzYovlGNWtFrzE54N5vUkStuplpKhihR6rhk9xt8dQaIpodzMS9inlEsociwetIjpn5SzRDizjsAHjysHpgO-1zjavHD_chI1xBEJykwmiCQ/s1600/singlepoem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkl2NK4hdm1GvaY_ESzov6Dr35XQH_GbLzYovlGNWtFrzE54N5vUkStuplpKhihR6rhk9xt8dQaIpodzMS9inlEsociwetIjpn5SzRDizjsAHjysHpgO-1zjavHD_chI1xBEJykwmiCQ/s320/singlepoem.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">'Waiting' <br />by Montri Umavijani</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I wasn’t sure what
to expect when I saw peach listed in the materials; I’ve smelled a number of
faux <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mitsouko</i> things in the past few
years, whether or not they were intended to be or not, it is a problem for
anything that uses a quality peach effect, such is the legacy of the Guerlain
masterpiece. Just because you have formulae laced with gamma-decalactone does
not imply you have a natural successor to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mitsouko</i>.
There have been very few exceptions to this, talented perfumers using that
potentially strange furred flesh vs. juice dynamic of peaches to create
something unique. Mandy Aftel’s astonishing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Palimpsest</i>
that I reviewed earlier this year combined peach, honey, tobacco and her
precious feral Firetree essence to such a beautiful addictive effect I will
love it forever. The peach/apricot facet of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/01/if-you-look-closely-it-is-written-over.html">Palimpsest</a></i>
glows like a candle at a night window. The other one is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/2014/09/the-desolation-of-vigil-foxglove-by.html">Foxglove</a></i>, the dry, carroty iris-peach combo created by David Moltz
for HYLNDS, the Celtic mist and myth inspired line that runs parallel to his
DS&Durga collection. Both fragrances expertly use an overused effect to
offset and exalt a palette of carefully calibrated and evocative materials. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie de L’Amour</i> the peach feels
overripe and quietly disturbing. As if you entered a room and found a blushing
furred fruit before you on a old wooden table; you know the colour is just too
rubicund, the flesh will give too much if pressed, the skin will split and
juice ooze and flow like blood over the scarred surface of the table. This note
of abstracted ripe peach adds a plush drip of fairytale decadence to Pissara’s
mix, the suggested odour of pulpy fruit only serving to enhance the eroticism
of indolic expanse gestured by that artfully arranged triptych of gardenia,
tuberose and dizzying night jasmine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Basenotes of cedar
and musks are slightly nondescript but nonetheless add a snug milkiness to the
scent, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie de l’Amour</i> is
heartfelt to its very core. It is a powerful message of floral love. The poetic
quote Pissara has chosen to preface this scent is simple and elegant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My feeling for you is like a flower blooming
in an empty room’</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Montri Umavijani) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Yet if this scent is
the flower blooming in that empty room, the love is utterly overwhelming. Some
will celebrate and revel in the hedonistic excess; others will drown in the
reality and be swept away. It is unusual in that initially it increases in
intensity very suddenly, the indolic floral flood rising so rapidly like so
much white erotic music you feel dazzled and silenced, your personal sky stops
scrolling and for a frozen moment, petals fall in a shimmering room of memory. The
mouillette I scented with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie de
L’Amour</i> stood in its clip like a tiny white gesturing arm and stubbornly
held its fragrance for over seven days. I had it perched by my bedside and as I
woke from fractured sleep I caught molecular whiffs in the air of fading blooms.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Be warned, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie de l’Amour</i> is outrageously
floral, yet as a man wearing it, I felt only wonderment at its beauty and
construction. I loved its radiance and flattering flirtation. I think it smells
at its most beautiful at mellow night on tired skin, loved skin, skin held
close and worshipped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Note</i>: As I was editing this on the night of Saturday 6<sup>th</sup>
May, Pissara won an Art & Olfaction Award for best Artisan Perfume for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mélodie de L’Amour </i>at the ceremony held
in Berlin. So huge congratulations to her and Parfums Dusita<i>. </i>I love this image below<i> </i>taken by<i> </i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Michael Haußmann at </span></span><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Art & Olfaction Awards in Berlin of Pissara with her glowing golden pear award snapped with the lovely Victor Wong of Zoologist Perfumes on the left, a former A&O winner for Bat and Tomi Tagscherer on the right, the CEO and Founder of J.F.Schwarzlose who won in the Independent Category in Berlin for <i>Altruist</i>. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlV1jTh53_9YlAPM8hGjT3c__mQ-XWPXUQct8WHFj7-Uh5VJVxSjRhlW5x41AhC9UNt5icOVflCCdV5GcVQQc_up93DyQa8YH6TK9sdvz5JDXYzkpZtLM2wE03HQ5pfOYcoc0NNQMIpM/s1600/FullSizeRender-60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlV1jTh53_9YlAPM8hGjT3c__mQ-XWPXUQct8WHFj7-Uh5VJVxSjRhlW5x41AhC9UNt5icOVflCCdV5GcVQQc_up93DyQa8YH6TK9sdvz5JDXYzkpZtLM2wE03HQ5pfOYcoc0NNQMIpM/s400/FullSizeRender-60.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">On paper, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'courier new', courier, monospace;">Oud Infini</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> with its blend of Laotian
oud, rose de mai and vanilla appears overtly déja-vu, a dance of simple steps,
but factor in dancing partners of exceptional quality like Mysore sandalwood, sparkling
Tunisian orange blossom and Siamese benzoin and the dance becomes more
dangerous, edgy and craven. Pissara’s powerful interpretation smells like nothing
else and actually brought me to a complete halt in my day when I first smelled
it. It feels like walking the same route every day and then one day noticing a
building you’ve never seen before, something simple and elegant, constructed
from stone and metal with large expanses of glass. It’s morning and as the sun
hits it you are awestruck by the play of light and simplicity of structure. Why
haven’t you noticed this building before? Is it new? Was it always there and
you just didn’t bother to see it?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This is how I felt
on sniffing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud Infini</i>; it made me
re-see oud, the essence and way of it, the facets of it radiating their usual
effects and habits but in a different olfactive light. Instead of walking past
it indifferent and potentially asnomic, I was caught by difference, quality and
Pissara’s ability to weave personal history alongside the luxurious Laotian oud
and other materials she has used.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnXFhdiKjx147N6uPbzCpqOHb-f7qIeyqO_tUvSacoOAQzY7qlHJiE1w6DVhSmytWPEbKxnOB6W6J7xhIS0Lmlr-gC6ZhdCW1iKESN70OsVeOrp-cJHgACuofua9erQjx-ljZe1dGZ_g/s1600/laotian+oud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnXFhdiKjx147N6uPbzCpqOHb-f7qIeyqO_tUvSacoOAQzY7qlHJiE1w6DVhSmytWPEbKxnOB6W6J7xhIS0Lmlr-gC6ZhdCW1iKESN70OsVeOrp-cJHgACuofua9erQjx-ljZe1dGZ_g/s320/laotian+oud.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Laotian Oud wood</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It goes without
saying that Oud scents are ubiquitous these days, every fragrance house from
the haute-est luxe names to high street favourites like Dior and YSL have oud
perfumes among their collections. Partly because the sexy, skanky fumes are
sold as glamourous personifications of today’s burnished metrosexuals but also
blatantly to appeal to the ever-increasing numbers of mega-rich Arab clients that
swell western cities looking for the latest interpretations of oud mixed with
European olfactive tropes. It is the scent of the Middle East; I was born in
Bahrain and travelled in Iran, Jordan and Saudi Arabia as a child. It is a
scent that jolts me shockingly. I remember it being burned in houses I visited,
clothes smelled of sweet smoke and a family friend had incredible hair scented
with oud, frankincense and cinnamon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When it started
appearing so vociferously as a perfume note, I found it odd, I wasn’t sure how
I felt about it to be honest, I guess because personally it tripped switches. Tom
Ford is the glossy, porno-lite airport king of oud. Tiresome though his
repetitive Private Blend line is now, there is no denying the impact he has had
on bringing oud into a pretty mainstream vocabulary, even with the outrageous
price tag. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M7, </i>the scent he conjoured
up for YSL back in 2002 as Creative Director, (the juice itself created by
Alberto Morillas and Jacques Cavallier) was ground-breaking in its use of
hirsute woods, spices and a fabulously calibrated and integrated oud heart. I
wore it obsessively for a while and then just fell out of love, keeping a full
bottle in the dark like an imprisoned lover. The rebooted <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M7 Oud Absolu</i> in 2011 was disappointing, harsh, splintering apart
too quickly with none of that warm, sensual club surround heat that the
original had. YSL it seemed had been spooked by the looming shadow of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M7’s</i> progenitor and failed to retain any
of the original’s lovely, sexual mystique and genuine masculine eroticism in
favour of a bland market-pleasing facsimile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8ESJs0vGbaO38ah_iwQBlynF5NgfsEwZfP-QWRv2cGshWEUVv7fjOHDzck_5Pffv1YQgJhqaWYeXcA9O3MUTXhoYPaarrG8XPwDKNm2T_TcMIiIBs5EyNQ4cNa5Xs98wUMJzUvd2Vck/s1600/poems1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8ESJs0vGbaO38ah_iwQBlynF5NgfsEwZfP-QWRv2cGshWEUVv7fjOHDzck_5Pffv1YQgJhqaWYeXcA9O3MUTXhoYPaarrG8XPwDKNm2T_TcMIiIBs5EyNQ4cNa5Xs98wUMJzUvd2Vck/s320/poems1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy montage...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Oud is now a stand-alone
clan of scents such is its diffusive impact. There exists every permutation of
oud possible: leathered, gourmand, oriental, chypré, floral, aquatic… Brands
seem intent on treating oud like a cocktail mixer, adding it to anything and
seeing what happens. You only have to take a glance at a Montale’s list of
Oud-themed scents to see the range that one house is offering. Pine, lime,
honey, chocolate, saffron, vanilla and mango… nothing escapes the relentless
oud trend. The business is now by necessity awash with synth ouds, some good,
some screeching and migrainous. The real deal is sensational, not always well
handled mind you. The Sultan Pasha attars are superb examples of how to set oud
in a traditional yet sleek and resonant, respectful ways. </span><a href="http://www.kafkaesqueblog.com/2016/02/15/sultan-pasha-attars-an-overview/" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Kafka</a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> has written
beautifully in minute detail on this line, so do check out the number of
reviews posted on the collection and you will learn something. The oud used
throughout the Sultan Pasha line comes from Ensar Oud, one of the world’s
leading suppliers, who specialise in creating luxurious and high impact blends
of the finest quality oud.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A major problem for
the industry is that the oud is a naturally occurring virus in the Aquilaria
tree and takes many years to naturally infect the heart of the wood, creating
the distinctive dark oud/agarwood effect. Stocks are harvested so brutally, the
prices of oud have become exorbitant in key places such as Cambodia and Laos. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Up until now I have
worn and loved two (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M7</i> accepted as a
historical document), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Al Oudh</i> from
L’Artisan Parfumeur by master perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour and Francis
Kurkdjian’s original <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud</i> from his
eponymous line. Both fill me with immense joy when I wear them. I am not a
massive oud fan as I mentioned earlier, but occasionally as these two did,
something about the setting of oud moved me hugely and my skin fell abruptly in
love. Betrand’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Al Oudh</i> is pretty
mucky, the oud mixed with dried sticky fruit, cumin and a sweat-stained leather
note that is massively sexy. When I first smelled it I was like, jeez are you
kidding me? Nope. Then two hours later I was like …<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right give me a bottle, right now. Now. Anybody</i>? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My affair with the
Kurkdjian <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud</i> was more subtle, slow
and drawn out. I have said in previous posts that as much as I admire the
technique and elegance of his own line (and undoubtedly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lumière Noire Pour Femme</i> is an outstanding scent…) at the end of
the day I prefer his white floral work for brands like Lanvin, Elie Saab,
Burberry, Carven and Indult. They seem more ephemeral and abstract; it seems
working within these high gloss briefs somehow forces a control of vision that
produces honed, crystalline work. His FK fragrances are lovely, but overpriced
and the recent acquisition by LVMH speaks volumes about the intended market for
the line. When I first tried the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud</i>
in Liberty with an FK sales girl in a wonderful sampling session of the line it
was that rich, plummy velveteen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lumière
Noire</i> that impressed me the most. I bought that but on the flight back to
Edinburgh the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud</i> on my skin was softly
persistent and nudged away at my senses in the droning darkness of the aircraft
cabin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The perfume
equivalent of vicuna wool scarves, ultra soft and just that little bit obscene
in its luxury, FK’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud</i> floated
through my mind until I submitted and purchased a bottle, running through it at
an alarming rate. My wardrobe oozed a warm tenderness for months, fibres
saturated with FK’s generous techniques. But generally speaking I avert my
senses from the oud side of things, they are rarely that impressive and the
market is drowning in sub-standard copies of Tom Ford and Amouage. The last
original interpretation I tried was the truly faecal <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud Ankaa</i> from Ys Uzac created by maverick musical nose Vincent
Micotti, oh lordy…just one barnyard too far for this fragile Fox but what an
oud. It smells ill and dangerous, utterly overwhelming. Like the opening of an unsealed
tomb and death rolling out. The pungency is extraordinary. I actually dislike
it intensely, it creeps me out and hypnotises me at the same time, but there is
no denying the quality of the oud and the originality of the formula. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dawn in the sky: a tiny stream of gold glows
and explodes, imperceptivity, until it covers the whole sky and turns itself
into silver</i>.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Montri Umavijani)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Then there is
Pissara’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud Infini</i>. I had a massive
olfactory memory shock with this, so beautiful when I realised what it was. This
is oud as art, retrospection and devilment. I love all the Dusita perfumes but
this oud, this oud seems destined to haunt me. At first as always with anything
oudy I struggle, that black-hearted dying wood appals me, but then the decay
and dirty death corrupts me, digging deeply into my brain. I was wearing it
obsessively and when I wasn’t I could smell it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQPAO7sT9BKt3uTlHDVzzRzoS5tECRvaNGzbIvsSiCyafhjIQjQ94-UUPPwkWLoRlkMKQYdtq2fs1qYHGLiEy8OpnvGUtJ32WHo66hM9CqNXaGZ8KEaAAdTb2knV3TukJWVCPIVHZ1_k/s1600/montage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNQPAO7sT9BKt3uTlHDVzzRzoS5tECRvaNGzbIvsSiCyafhjIQjQ94-UUPPwkWLoRlkMKQYdtq2fs1qYHGLiEy8OpnvGUtJ32WHo66hM9CqNXaGZ8KEaAAdTb2knV3TukJWVCPIVHZ1_k/s400/montage.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy montage...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Oud Infini</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> opens with a dazzling swirl of Oud Palao mixed with a plush
Rose de Mai that smells crimson and heady. Indolic Tunisian orange blossom adds
a strange patisserie facet to this as it begins. This is a risky trio to open
any scent with, but the quality of the materials and confidence in blending
succeeds beautifully. The three materials are gatekeepers for the temple-soft Siamese
(Thai) benzoin and soulful Mysore sandalwood that swell a remarkable heart.
Like roses, vetiver, vanilla etc ouds smell different depending where they are
grown globally; climate, </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">terroir</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> if
you like, imparts flavour and character. Laos in southeastern Asian, bordering
Myanmar and Thailand produces a very distinctive oud, a little macabre,
pungently aromatic material with a desiccated, catacomb quality that develops
alongside a seemingly contradictory creamy vanillic tone and speckles of citric
wood. Geographically it is a perfect oud for Pissara to use, its complex aroma
profile and ambiguous dirty/beautiful persona make it an alluring and haunting
choice. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The niggling memory
suddenly came to me as I walking along the Water of Leith in the late afternoon.
A sudden recollection of rosewood, metal foil work, a studded skin of eroded brass
pins belonging to two Omani marriage chests my parents bought in Bahrain in
1968/69 where I was born. They are robustly made from rose wood now almost tar
black in places. Spirals and lines of brass studs green with verdigris patina cover
the boxes like animal scales. They both have huge locking mechanisms designed
to alert you if anyone tried to break into the kists if you were travelling.
After my parents’ divorce and the heart-breaking sale of the family home, my
mother kept one and gave the other kist to my brother, my apartment is too
small for them, they are imposing pieces of furniture. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3pCRtC8FQdZNWiCKZUD1DDoxOc-0SwECHVQMy1m7y-3eo3YW8kEQumYYexsHUDIAWRCiDKp9kn9o0JKdcCcIx84_1BYiKaxyoB5N-qkNkfblhv1sH5uW9pshKxZQyK4GDDzePa7WAGg/s1600/kist1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih3pCRtC8FQdZNWiCKZUD1DDoxOc-0SwECHVQMy1m7y-3eo3YW8kEQumYYexsHUDIAWRCiDKp9kn9o0JKdcCcIx84_1BYiKaxyoB5N-qkNkfblhv1sH5uW9pshKxZQyK4GDDzePa7WAGg/s320/kist1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Family Omani wedding kist</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is the heritage
odour of these amazing <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>chests that suddenly
resonated with Pissara’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud Infini</i>.
When you lift the creaking lids you inhale gusts of dry rosewood, dust,
oxidising brass, brittle iron hinges and memories of textiles, books and
assorted antique objets that my mother has stored in them over the years. This
strong note of metallic, cindered wood, sweet rosewood and the malachite
creaminess of the brass decay is how I connected to this funky oud. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6hEAC0lI2j7-J5j00avZMGq8n9Zk0rER5G8zyF0ZKreS1UrU5UxJhEeBH0bdzhyphenhyphen8ZGCib_wPKXoE-tvVd2tztEtLiOGA9J5UGiILs39X-4NFAOwcgc-RfobOteK3gZl1b-_ncwq-240/s1600/kist2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6hEAC0lI2j7-J5j00avZMGq8n9Zk0rER5G8zyF0ZKreS1UrU5UxJhEeBH0bdzhyphenhyphen8ZGCib_wPKXoE-tvVd2tztEtLiOGA9J5UGiILs39X-4NFAOwcgc-RfobOteK3gZl1b-_ncwq-240/s320/kist2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Family Omani wedding kist</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The longevity of the
formula is impressive not just because the notes are big and pungent but
because they have been woven together with thoughtful process and intent. That
eerie Oud Palao opens the perfume and leads you like a flickering spirit guide
through a terrain of uncommon beauty. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oud
Infini</i> feels the most spiritual of the five Dusita perfumes; I’m not sure
exactly why I think this, just an instinctual vibe I get each time I wear it.
There is an impression of votive duty and sanctuary in the evaporation curve
and fuming. It is a perfume of grace and meditative power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The twilight hour comes:<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Even my grief<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Is swept away by<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The anonymity of life</i>.’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Montri Umavijani)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Douceur De Siam</i> is one of two 2017 launches from Pissara and
Dusita, the other one being <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage
Blanc</i>. It is a scent of sensational subtle dissonance; three beautiful
blooms, Rose de Mai, Champaca and a sensual frangipani ring out like glass
bells in a moss-covered temple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">These heavenly
flowers are wrapped in a distinctive <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chai
carnation</i> effect created by Thai Chalood bark, a vanillic dry spice accord
conjured up from Siamese oud; it smells remarkable and serves as the perfect
counterpoint to that trio of glowing blooms. Despite what you might expect from
rose, Champaca and frangipani, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Douceur
De Siam</i> is in fact the most reverential and muted of the Dusita quintet,
with a contemplative and emotive personality that suggests veiled priestesses
carrying armfuls of white flowers through a misted green forest morning, voices
singing barely audible hymns of devotion as they walk ancient pathways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I’m besotted with
this carnation/Chalood bark combo and its luminously dry cinnamon and clove
feel on skin; it just works so well with the lunar ambience of the creamy
frangipani. It is a note I always register in perfume and samples, but rarely
does it smell this good. I used to wear Chantecaille’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Frangipane, </i>the frangipani mixed with jasmine, amber, vanilla and a
lovely raft of musks. It had a rich amandine, custard feel. Then it was
reformulated and all the loveliness was destroyed. It smelled like someone
playing celebrity dress up and no one being able to tell who they are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfhR9JZ-gEewxtmi3oyB1cCVS_Uh9yoIdoZReOitx-J7br-k0ToDvJpmY2ft6lE96zZt_jljL465fZxqEVe-dByppCnZz0UDoiuaZAB-Jl3kTbnOHpW0EqLDJ9g317R4c_PXHswVhM_w/s1600/frangipane2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdfhR9JZ-gEewxtmi3oyB1cCVS_Uh9yoIdoZReOitx-J7br-k0ToDvJpmY2ft6lE96zZt_jljL465fZxqEVe-dByppCnZz0UDoiuaZAB-Jl3kTbnOHpW0EqLDJ9g317R4c_PXHswVhM_w/s320/frangipane2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Thai frangipani blossom</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In <i>La</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Douceur de Siam,</i> the frangipani note is
unctuous and sweet yet also a little raw-edged and disturbing, not quite the
overtly tropical slick it can be and all the better for it. Tumbling it with
the boudoir invitation of rose de mai and anisic Soave nuances of Champaca makes
for skin of lush private hedonism. This really is the essence of La Douceur;
tenderness, quietude, a murmuring of blooms held superbly in check by an
adroitly positioned vanilla accord that while sweet enough to echo the solar
aspect of the white flowers, it has the kindness to impart a caramel smokiness
to this immaculately rendered floral essay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I wore this one day in
Edinburgh when we had an aberrational spike in temps and the heat did make a
difference to my skin perception of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La
Douceur De Siam</i>. Nothing drastic, I just noticed a few things I hadn’t
picked up on before. The sweaty flush on my skin as I lay half in, half out of
the sun in the botanic gardens really amplified the Mysore sandalwood and that
fabulous Chalood bark accord a lot, rolling them up over the blooms carrying
traces of the strangely granular ambergris from the base. I noticed this in the
list of materials but didn’t perceive it much at first in my initial wearings,
it just waxed and waned in the perfume’s later stages but on heated prickly
skin the ambergris seemed to crystallise like salt on the surface of my humid
senses. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">For me personally
the key aspect of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Douceur De Siam</i>
despite that initial show-stopping triptych of rose de mai, Champaca and
frangipani is the carnation facet. As it settles, the Chalood bark accord
provides this much-maligned olfactive floral character with peppered aromatic
fumes and a dusted woodiness I find beautiful to wear. The formulation of
persuasive carnation perfumes seems a dying art; consumers perhaps perceiving
it as an old-fashioned note or even worse associating the complex aromas
possible in scent with the sad decline in the public’s perception of this once
revered flower. I’ve worked in places over the years where they were banned
from floral displays, considered too vulgar for public view. I have always
loved the true perfume of spicy scented carnation varieties, the weirdly damp,
clovey, nutmeg buzz is unique and after a while they smell like porcelain
feels, delicate and aloof. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In the past I’ve adored Caron’s (vintage) </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Bellodgia</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> and Evelyn Boulanger’s rather
warped facsimile </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Red: Carnation </i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">for
Commes des Garçons from 2001. A special place in my foxy heart is reserved for
Mona di Orio’s 2006 </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Carnation</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">, a
parfum d’art built from styrax, bourbon geranium, violet, amber and jasmine. No
actual carnation per se. Yet Mona created a profound </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">held</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> illusion of a bruised pink carnation the colour of an evening
sky and it made me weep for its beauty. In </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">La
Douceur de Siam</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> the carnation is a little crushed and wild, a scented
corsage for a punk prom, the odour that radiates softly of peppered sweet
night.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Light fell on us<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A discreet light<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Making its paved way<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Through the chill and dusty air<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As I reading your love’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Montri Umavijani)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have saved <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i>, the final devastating
part of Pissara’s quintet until last, I wasn‘t really sure why until I returned
to the first set of notes I wrote late one night during a bout of insomnia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…Unlike other full-throttle verdant chypré
scents – LSB smells fiercely personal + arid – opening with a blast of what 2 to
my night-warped nose smells like fresh paint, - claustrophobic jade on walls of
a long corridor leading eventually into a forest lit by lanterns</i>… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Re-reading these
words and inhaling once again that shock opening of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i> off my inside arm I find it overwhelming, not in a
big molecular way but emotionally; perhaps because I have saved it till last
and I have spent so much time in Pissara’s poetic personal world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The start is a
sudden golden thing; I don’t think I was quite ready for it. I have been
reading Montri’s poems nearly every day, there are so many to choose from, and
I’d like to think that perhaps I have by now some small measure of his
relentless poetic minutiae. I like to imagine that reading the book of poems
Pissara so kindly sent me is akin to spending time in his company listening to
him tell you of travelling details and hushed observations that escape so many
of us. The role of poets is to interpret the complexities of ourselves, our
roles within worlds and the gamut of emotions that inevitably arise as we live,
love and hate. They are granted second sight to see beyond veils that blind so
many of us. I’m not making any similar perceptive claims for perfumery, but
Pissara set up Parfums Dusita both to honour the memory of her poet father and
celebrate various states of love. It’s not a huge stretch to feel that perhaps
she has inherited her father’s insight and sensibilities. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QdBoCtZeCqdS0XI0L2saVrLv-ZpMXEcveTYaxvaVJXlFXDnT89fZ9z__j7jsuvfiYh3NNLF0TuJIrxa6dG5PRUDBd4v7HOJZlIWQ2NTqiRQF2vbyldOD_077ingu1Pi1aW3Eb919Ado/s1600/bottles2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QdBoCtZeCqdS0XI0L2saVrLv-ZpMXEcveTYaxvaVJXlFXDnT89fZ9z__j7jsuvfiYh3NNLF0TuJIrxa6dG5PRUDBd4v7HOJZlIWQ2NTqiRQF2vbyldOD_077ingu1Pi1aW3Eb919Ado/s320/bottles2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>La Douceur de Siam & <br />Le Sillage Blanc</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Of the Dusita
quintet there is a an unabashed masculine lushness to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i>, a genuine sense of glorious passing man who
perhaps lives in dreams as a lost father or embellished lover. A pungent duet
of nectarous orange blossom and soapy waxen neroli at the top feels like a
shaft of dazzling morning light cutting through the motes of hovering dust and
gentle shadows in a private study as the sun eases past heavy curtains. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_eUj5C8o2P9iTcG6FaV4E8yAjOMlD8Y3hMgMDco8m-Z7CgBWDsCNfuxQCZ93YfAMcJDzeHqlDjach438QU30epnAQfexZ_YnbTeRsrKlopHlRwSsn5gUkIrJJrr72SyHXH-WwXLBy30/s1600/sunlight3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_eUj5C8o2P9iTcG6FaV4E8yAjOMlD8Y3hMgMDco8m-Z7CgBWDsCNfuxQCZ93YfAMcJDzeHqlDjach438QU30epnAQfexZ_YnbTeRsrKlopHlRwSsn5gUkIrJJrr72SyHXH-WwXLBy30/s320/sunlight3.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy montage of curtain & smoke</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Underpinning this
vibrant duo is a steadfast and serious green tobacco leaf that smells
caramalised around the edges and romantically scorched. But it is potent enough
to cast an impression of haze amid that glorious overture. It is quite the
scene-setting start, this sunlit room, tendrils of memory-tobacco, a scent of
burnished leather from a ruined chesterfield chair near the window and the
unmistakable odour of wet earth, pollen and mulch in Pissara’s choice of
galbanum and patchouli rolling in on the morning air amid the molten sun.
Wormwood (artemisia) and ambrette seed add a bittersweet and musky dimension to
this portrait of time and place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The more time I
spent in the atmospheric company of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le
Sillage Blanc</i>, I realised that for me it derives a huge sense of its power from
the fact it feels like a portrait either consciously or subconsciously of Montri
Umavijani, a fantasy if you like of smoke-wreathed scribe and poet in a
leather-tinted room creating impeccable words in strange weathers. The notes of
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i> and their blending
echo a legacy of literature, bindings, thumbed pages, the romanticism of empty
rooms, the urgent impact of homecoming and how light in its many guises both
illuminates our lives and exposes clandestine flaws.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It has been much
noted on the net and in other reviews how much reverence Pissara has for Germaine
Cellier’s legendary <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bandit</i> created
for a collection by couturier Robert Piguet in 1944 inspired by robbers and
pirates. Piguet sent models down the runway brandishing mock guns, knives and
cutlasses. Cellier was noted for used pre-made bases in her famous formulae
such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fracas</i>, also for Piguet and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jolie Madame </i>and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Vent Vert </i>for Balmain. This has always made the actual recreation
and content of her work both contentious and mysterious. What is not a mystery
though is how revolutionary and influential <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bandit</i>
was to become, along with Caron’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tabac
Blond</i> (1919) and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Diorling</i> in 1965
giving women fragrances with a certain butch ambiguity that subverted gender
and declared thrilling olfactory war on stereotypes. The key to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bandit</i> is the high level of iso-butyl-quinoline,
an inky sexual substance that gives the perfume it’s flayed, green rawness. I
have the molecule inked on my arm in homage to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bandit’s</i> visceral thrill. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sK-yZpaHSQMq643KnqWbi5OueC1oslH43DXWZEDsEEBfijsaFgBFtY2d3A_j66Rrco-3EonU2wZKUEVMpGQKwlkZiatJG2A1yd52U5qI7Uti9cuNCE-lz-uxVE5WJtFfKlu1HF5RXSA/s1600/Bandit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sK-yZpaHSQMq643KnqWbi5OueC1oslH43DXWZEDsEEBfijsaFgBFtY2d3A_j66Rrco-3EonU2wZKUEVMpGQKwlkZiatJG2A1yd52U5qI7Uti9cuNCE-lz-uxVE5WJtFfKlu1HF5RXSA/s320/Bandit.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Vintage Bandit advertising </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Pissara has spoken
about how influential smelling the perfume was in her life and how the
dangerous beauty of it has become part of her Dusita journey. If you look at
the notes of the original Bandit and Pissara’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i> side by side, there are a lot of similarities but
the IFRA restrictions on oakmoss and those Cellier bases mean that Pissara’s
version is exquisite homage and elegant memory-echo rather than over-reaching
pastiche. Both have galbanum, neroli, orange, leather, oakmoss, artemisia, musk
and patchouli. The main difference is the distinctive lack of floral
arrangements in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i>; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bandit</i> has ylang, jasmine, rose,
carnation and tuberose weighed against the bitter leather accord. This I think
creates a glint of angled virility in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le
Sillage Blanc</i> that smells incredibly sexy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Montri has been never
far from Pissara’s mind as she set about the long and emotional task of
creating the Parfums Dusita line and while her noted love of Cellier’s
celebrated rebelsex classic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bandit</i>
has definitely affected her it is really only a part of her complex memories of
Montri, her childhood, travel, photography, friends, love, Paris, Thailand and
its unique flora, climate and traditions. This olfactory tapestry is scented
with Pissara’s unerring sensitivity in creating resonant odours that speak
movingly of accumulated memory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0Uu1H1Hao6EMXGZvBk0rfCioY9ocUVff0OqHJ8ZcZYOknnqZjbz8wua5wL1oNrBL0Zr5UrKXyyiLGZwr-GMuZPJqlP2AZv15p_jpx0XinrbLMwlo1cPl5MHRiMX9cW6IWErF1EC984k/s1600/bookonfur2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw0Uu1H1Hao6EMXGZvBk0rfCioY9ocUVff0OqHJ8ZcZYOknnqZjbz8wua5wL1oNrBL0Zr5UrKXyyiLGZwr-GMuZPJqlP2AZv15p_jpx0XinrbLMwlo1cPl5MHRiMX9cW6IWErF1EC984k/s320/bookonfur2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Samples & the beautiful <br />anthology of Montri's poems...</span></td></tr>
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<i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Le Sillage Blanc</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> is such a representation of the lost chypré style
perfume, I swooned uncharacteristically over the arrangement of the English
leather accord, oakmoss and galbanum all swathed in the light of that wonderful
neroli/orange blossom lighting. I am not usually a huge chypré fan at all, they
are my mother’s genre, not that I think they are traditionally old lady or
anything, my mother is far from conventional, but the classics of the genus
rarely suit me. I grew up amid the dry green buzzing hazes of </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Paloma, Miss Dior</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> and </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Dioressence</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> – </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Opium</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> was her oriental exception – brutally tailored masterpieces
that remind me still of hairspray, singed grass and green and black tweed. It
is a bold scent style and one I admire at arm’s length.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Recent years have
seen the restrictions coerce inventive and artistic perfumers into creating
olfactory works of near chypré brilliance. They may not be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bandit</i>, but they are spiritual equals. Antonio Gardoni’s lavishly
dirty <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maai</i> for Bogue is a wondrous
thing, shuddering sexy and demanding of the senses. I feel in the presence of
something truly feral and thrillingly alive when I wear it. Last year, Rodrigo
Flores-Roux produced two astonishing perfumes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">EL</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ELLA</i> for his close
friend and collaborator Carlos Huber at Arquiste inspired by the decadent,
glistening poolside disco life of 70s Acapulco. ELLA for women is a savagely
narcotic white floral with a masterly undertone of cigarette smoke and tanned
skin. Oh lord, it is so beautiful, you can almost hear the Giorgio Moroder and
smell the chlorine in the sunlit Helmut Newton pool. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDyVh0XDrmZ4ucTgea7ZA-MiZrLREMvUoj1wFqURvjNXuaeVBaRUfQ1DQg1lLqrGRShuQqpsjQLwmObTmBiHWgZP-pGFuByewbf4RgMgELS3AAzCs9M6EH0OfumUTNePeIjCi18IwATE/s1600/green+chypre+x+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDyVh0XDrmZ4ucTgea7ZA-MiZrLREMvUoj1wFqURvjNXuaeVBaRUfQ1DQg1lLqrGRShuQqpsjQLwmObTmBiHWgZP-pGFuByewbf4RgMgELS3AAzCs9M6EH0OfumUTNePeIjCi18IwATE/s400/green+chypre+x+5.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy chypré montage...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Hiram Green’s second
perfume <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shangri-La</i> is a gorgeous
peach-toned chypré with deliciously bright floral notes that smell both cinematically
now and vintage at the same time. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Onda</i>
by Vero Kern is one of my favourite perfumes of all time and is a warped modern
reflection of the chypré; filthy fruit musks courtesy of passion fruit and an
uneasy sense of post-coital linger about the mix of spices, ylang-ylang and
honey. More brothel chypré than anything aristocratic or bourgeois. Liz Moore’s
imminent launch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dryad</i> will add a
dark, pagan chypré style scent into her collection; I’m reviewing this soon so
less is Moore right now. So the chypré can be done, it just needs skill and a
fuck-off dose of artistic bravery. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Pissara’s
interpretation of the green-leathered chypré is soaked in memory as are all her
perfumes, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i> is a
little different in that it really asks of you time and commitment to allow its
beauty to deepen and reveal itself. After about an hour or so it loses the initial
sense of early sunlit animation and becomes harder, more aloof. As I was
wearing it and thinking of verdant things I realised it glowed in my mind like
a facetted emerald in the night, lying on honeyed warm skin. If you look
carefully into beautiful high-end emerald stones, it is akin to staring into
mysterious eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i> may
be a green scent but not the chthonic hidebound kiss of tweed-woven emotion,
but eventually amid the memories and homage it is something more elusive and
glinted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I set out writing
this essay with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Issara</i> as my chosen
Dusita scent, I was head over heels for it; but I didn’t foresee my disturbing
love for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Sillage Blanc</i>, a near
obsessive preoccupation for the perfume details and the constant shift and
change on my skin, inciting me to confusion, love and irritation. During a weeklong
turbulence with the perfume I spent nights drifting off to sleep, inner arms
lacquered in the complex Sillage… Sporadically I struggle with shards of broken
sleep and I kept waking and catching sweet, green forested pieces of skin,
shades of dusky ambrette and the dying embers of patchouli. In the mornings I
could still smell the graceful vestiges of the perfume’s woody shadows. I am
obsessed by it; the kind of obsession you have with a beautiful stranger you
see only once on a train but just cannot forget. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have taken a lot
of time to write this essay on Parfums Dusita and Pissara Umavijani; it has felt
like a special piece of prose for me. I love all the writing I do because I do it
for selfish, personal and luxuriant reasons; the odours move me and I am
compelled to write. There are some houses though, Vero Profumo, Arquiste,
Menditterosa and Talismans, Mona di Orio, Masque Milano, Imaginary Authors and
Slumberhouse to name a few that seem to stir words and images deep in the foxy
brain and spark fevered dream prose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I’m not a reviewer
per se and therefore have no real pressure to always have essays completed for
deadlines or launch dates; sometimes I work with brands to publish at certain
times by mutual agreement, but these are personal arrangements borne out of
hard earned relationships with artistic directors, noses and trusted PR folk. I
usually focus on one perfume in a collection and mention others in the line for
context, so it is quite an undertaking to take on a detailed overview like this
and as it turns out, this is now the longest piece I have written. That
accolade used to belong to another brand biography, that of Carlos Huber’s
inventive Arquiste line. Mind you, if you add my original piece to my essay on
their glorious sea-soaked myrrh fest <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nanban</i>
and last year’s pungently sexy 70’s Acapulco disco juices <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">EL</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ELLA</i> my wordage on
Arquiste is pretty considerable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I know some people
don’t care all that much for my long detailed style of writing; I don’t care in
return. I know a lot of you do care however, you tell me so. You message and
e-mail me, leave comments, tell me in person if I meet you. In this clickbait
age as our attention span is eroded by a relentless and aggressive ad-based
social media, tempting us from page to page, tab to tab, skimming, barely
registering information, I feel it is somehow important to remind people that slow
reading matters. Some of my foxy followers like to print off the blog pieces
and read them from paper. I love this; I write all my notes, research and first
drafts longhand in numbered notebooks with a Lamy fountain pen and then I also
do the first set of edits on print outs with red pens, highlighters and pencil.
It makes the editing process more real and forces me to concentrate more
closely on what I have created, picking up on contrary repetition, garbled
syntax and over poetic nonsense. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbYdEmsAPGP5cT9rB1lrYArqxlZ55rt2m1DEnW0S1t9vWuLfotRjYiAoFMnB6SKJdquPZs76eWivJkCqzPMuEnndf3BeTKDDYgm1ErCOxkj8SZGJUi_kcrtgfgq8EiniBffIVJzr1jb8/s1600/PissaraEx1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbYdEmsAPGP5cT9rB1lrYArqxlZ55rt2m1DEnW0S1t9vWuLfotRjYiAoFMnB6SKJdquPZs76eWivJkCqzPMuEnndf3BeTKDDYgm1ErCOxkj8SZGJUi_kcrtgfgq8EiniBffIVJzr1jb8/s320/PissaraEx1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Pissara at Esxence with her creations...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">So, five months in
the writing. I was struck immediately by the emotional ambience and structural
beauty of Pissara’s work. It is hard to separate her from the compositions and
to be honest from a writing point of view I don’t think I care to. This
remarkably erudite, generous, worldly and beautiful woman has produced a
complex and emotionally resonant assembly of perfumes that thread together
elements vital to her and her affecting journey from Siamese Bangkok childhood
to where she is now. Thailand to Paris, the deeply felt loss of her poet father
Montri, her Siamese heritage, the surround of Thai Buddhist doctrines, love of
literature and the written word, travel, the sensuality of nature; these things
flicker like so many watchfires along Pissara’s personal migration. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The perfumes are
described as celebrating varied states of love, but they are infinitely more
profound than that. By setting out to create a legacy of love in olfactory form
for her beloved father, inspired by her memories of him and the poems he left
behind, Pissara has composed her own distinctive balmy and compelling estate of
scented recollections. Parfums Dusita is a heart-breaking and glorious
demonstration of Pissara Umavijani as daughter and creative being whose radiant
talents glow like fire in the night of a dark emerald forest. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>For more information on Parfums Dusita, please click on the link below:</i></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.parfumsdusita.com/"><span style="color: #444444;"><i>Parfums Dusita</i></span></a></span></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">©TheSilverFox 12 May
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-35829812096606970132017-03-25T22:07:00.001+00:002017-05-14T23:39:04.707+01:00The Accumulation of Longing: ‘Stash’ by Sarah Jessica Parker Perfumes (Interlude 2)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-T7jE28pSklYFJlwAyGiWUjHah-ykYNdqNjQhAzqEnCJrBgvW78ZKAwcktIjWqQbtfUbkkYXgyhBJ6cdnB96yI3XybPtOsmODrRr1vCtariDsPXQ66x2j6wSqECkx7G0ctxNZE4ajGlk/s1600/stash1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-T7jE28pSklYFJlwAyGiWUjHah-ykYNdqNjQhAzqEnCJrBgvW78ZKAwcktIjWqQbtfUbkkYXgyhBJ6cdnB96yI3XybPtOsmODrRr1vCtariDsPXQ66x2j6wSqECkx7G0ctxNZE4ajGlk/s320/stash1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i>The bright air hangs freely near your newly cut hair <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is so easy now to see gravity at work in
your face <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Easy to understand time, that dark process <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">To accept it as a beautiful process, your face’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘Lines Depicting Simple Happiness’ </i>by Peter Gizzi)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">What do you think about when
you hear the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stash</i> I wonder?
Secretive hiding places, drugs, hidden money, valuables, recreational drugs? A
shockingly good scent launched by one of the most iconic television actresses
of all time? I thought not.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A really interesting addition
to my perfume collection is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash SJP</i>
the latest perfume endeavour by well-noted scent lover Sarah Jessica Parker. Her
involved adventures in perfume were more than adequately documented by Chandler
Burr in his breathlessly detailed book ‘The Perfect Scent’ that followed the
creation of Parker’s hugely successful <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lovely</i>
in collaboration with Coty and Jean-Claude Ellena’s work on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jardin Sur Le Nil</i> for Hermès. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHmo9XzJiPNCziI_06vASnI064UpWFDabhK0XtPz-G0nxC43l9QhyWUmDl-JdB_64FsudJG29Y0ij5EVWG7MJdTR2P3bh2BHNPApCXoGZFwxr6zDS_0Ew_uFlHzHoXlbntPHkeqO2LFE/s1600/IMG_1673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkHmo9XzJiPNCziI_06vASnI064UpWFDabhK0XtPz-G0nxC43l9QhyWUmDl-JdB_64FsudJG29Y0ij5EVWG7MJdTR2P3bh2BHNPApCXoGZFwxr6zDS_0Ew_uFlHzHoXlbntPHkeqO2LFE/s320/IMG_1673.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's copy of A Perfect Scent<br />by Chandler Burr</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I loathe the term
celebuniche, it’s an ugly word for a category of olfaction that bloggers &
vloggers (another ugly word) seem to find fascinating. Celebrity perfumes are
either good or bad just like any other, perhaps a tad more cynical but no less
brazen than the majority of most high street fare. Occasionally there are
exceptions. Some actors and models are more involved in the process, more muse
than just a PR face and body. They take an active interest in the creation of
the juice, desiring a final product that will have (hopefully) a reasonable
life reflecting a more personal and intimate facet of them.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Etat Libre d’Orange are launching an
offbeat variation of this with Mr Burr, launching a scent called </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">You Or Someone Like You</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> inspired by
Burr’s somewhat lacklustre LA based novel published in 2009.</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">They have form, creating the sensational </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Like This</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">, a pumpkin, immortelle and
ginger-tinted perfume inspired by Tilda Swinton and her alien, golden glow. </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Eau de Protection </i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">was a blood-stained
rose and chocolate hymn to the angular sensual power of Spanish actress Rossy
de Palma. Alan Cumming worked closely with Christopher Brosius to achieve the
peaty, whisky come hither nostalgia of </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Cumming</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">
and although I didn’t really like it very much it was obvious how much Richard
E. Grant relished being part of the creation of his smartly arranged </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Jack</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> and </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Covent Garden</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> perfumes. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Catherine Deneuve’s bold blonde chypré </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Denueve</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> originally launched in 1986 was
a fragrance I wore and loved lavishly during my Paris years in ‘89/’90; it
echoed the aloof demeanour of Deneuve mixed with her love of Chanel with a beautiful
use of civetty musks, rose, hyacinth and the dry grace of oakmoss. Deneuve’s
involvement in the composition, packaging and ad campaign of the perfume with
Avon was well advertised at the time. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">One of the big surprises
recently was how beautiful <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Original by Anja
Rubik</i> was; a gorgeous amber-spiced white lily composition made with creamy skill
and subtlety. I will admit to a HUGE crush on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Adam Levine for Women</i> made by the wonderful Yann Vasnier, I’m four
bottles down, the microphone-shaped bottle is fabulously fun but the perfume is
seriously good. Indian jasmine, marigold, benzoin, vanilla and rose. It’s so
addictive; I could drown in it. The men’s is good too, but the vanillic veil of
cashmere soft woods and balms in the women’s version just gets me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFq2dsAzj1t8xuAXmKsb2erqqqER9RGQdGJnsyg5Wrj0_d4R_yCb-eIpDTTtaV4dbQ6xmq7jP1Uyk7-k2GOfBF25LiBAzPN3cvDhSfTARHPh03FRDe4ZCxcMmXCOqvSAfNbG8PXMaqo4s/s1600/sjpdress2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFq2dsAzj1t8xuAXmKsb2erqqqER9RGQdGJnsyg5Wrj0_d4R_yCb-eIpDTTtaV4dbQ6xmq7jP1Uyk7-k2GOfBF25LiBAzPN3cvDhSfTARHPh03FRDe4ZCxcMmXCOqvSAfNbG8PXMaqo4s/s320/sjpdress2.JPG" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">SJP montage by TSF<br />Original images HBO <br />& Mario Testino</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Now, arguably many of the
above and the astonishing amount of neon, tooth achingly sweet and frankly egotistical
and forgettable celebrity juice that has been spilled, sprayed, over-promoted
and vanished would not really exist if not for the enormous success and
credibility afforded to Sarah Jessica Parker’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lovely</i>. In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Perfect Scent</i>
she revealed how she used her skin as an olfactory palette, mixing Bertrand
Duchaufour’s mournful <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Avignon</i> for
Commes de Garçons with Bonne Bell Skin Musk a cheap as chips drugstore skin oil
and Egyptian Musk oil to create her own unique aroma. What was interesting in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Perfect Scent</i> was the revelation
that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lovely</i> was the polar opposite of
this mix and in many ways Parker was guided to launch a scent that was
infinitely more commercial and in keeping with her public persona as Carrie
Bradshaw and the glossy, often thankless roles she played in Hollywood movies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was always much more than this; an
erudite intensely private woman with a lovely successful marriage to fellow
actor Mathew Broderick and super cute twins. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lovely</i> was
made with Laurent Le Guernec and Clément Gavarry, both gifted perfumers; Clément
made the amazingly leftfield <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Panorama</i>
for Olfactive Studio. That wasabi note made for one of the most beautiful
openings in any scents I’ve smelled recently. Next came <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Covet</i> with Frank Voelkl, who masterminded many of the culty La Labo
perfume including <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Limette 19 San
Francisco</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Benjoin 37 Moscow, Ylang
49, Santal 33 and Iris 39. Covet</i> didn’t perform quite so well, it’s a pity
really, it is a weird and thrilling lichen chocolate fougère thing with a
compelling teak wood & amber base. Ann Gottlieb co-designed it, which I
think may again have led to its slightly odd commercial vs. idiosyncratic
collision. I loved it though, flaws and all. Lots of people didn’t. I don’t
think the bottle helped, an absinthe-green, squashed floral-faucet hybrid. I
feel too that perhaps <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Covet</i> was ahead
of it’s time as SJP started flexing at the walls of what might be possible in
her olfactory world. The woods were meaty and that spiky-herbal mint cocoa
hybrid note in the top smelled perhaps a little too personal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-4pQ3R3NT2pLncjZiA8emdbydHLs7-L-FJHDDo-VcOSEl1O1-nVzwUbTVC-TZy6-kWlpZDWcvwtzyJg-6DGpdyaTaleQwEDn7CJieAjO1bqhNnMg_FBxCJ4WC63zzu5vdhWY6pk_yUA/s1600/SJPStash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-4pQ3R3NT2pLncjZiA8emdbydHLs7-L-FJHDDo-VcOSEl1O1-nVzwUbTVC-TZy6-kWlpZDWcvwtzyJg-6DGpdyaTaleQwEDn7CJieAjO1bqhNnMg_FBxCJ4WC63zzu5vdhWY6pk_yUA/s320/SJPStash.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Stash SJP (Image ©TSF)<br />by Sarah Jessica Parker</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> finally launched last year she freed herself to talk about
the long gestation of this deeply personal scent that predated <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lovely</i> in her mind it seemed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> was that fusion of memory,
pungency, skin and sensuality she had been looking for but had been deemed too
risky and ‘unisex’ for the time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">“Lovely is, precisely, what I hoped for, “ she
said calmly. “If I get the opportunity, my next scent will be will be
genderless. Fuller. Riskier..”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(From ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Perfect Scent’</i> by Chandler Burr) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is intriguing to imagine
all this time since <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lovely</i>, via <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Covet</i> and the rather lightweight NYC
line that SJP has been pondering the creation of this quite fascinating
fragrance that with or without her name attached is just beautiful piece of mucky
moreish olfaction. I have given it blind to ten people and asked opinions. One
hated the overt woodiness and what he called the ‘forest weight’ of it.
Everyone else was overwhelmingly positive about the strangeness, sexiness,
sweatiness, repeatedly returning to tester strip or skin to inhale some more.
On being told it was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> by SJP
nearly everyone was delighted, two or three not really surprised how good it
was as her reputation as someone who understands scent is quite well
documented.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My close friend Mr E of Jorum
Laboratories loved it and he’s a tough scented nut to crack these days; but
even he was really impressed by the assembly of notes and unusual erosion on
skin and fabric. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I love <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i>; it really wowed me when I first tried it. I bought it blind;
it’s reasonably priced and I had birthday money to use. There’s lovely
attention to detail in the bottle and packaging. SJP is no longer with Coty and
it kinda shows; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> feels more
feral. The bottle is quite heavyweight, like an old-style apothecary flacon,
the juice cognac-tinted and according to <a href="http://www3.rodpub.com/issues/2016-12-01/view_columns/stash-sjp-delivering-on-the-packaging-concept/">Jon Dinapolis</a>, Creative
Director of SJP, the cap is based on old-fashioned cork stoppers. My favourite
part of the overall design is the rather odd gaffer tape style label that slashes
diagonally across the bottle like a Goth prom sash. Dinapolis said that due to
the nature of the project and the look SJP wanted each piece of tape was hand
ripped and hand applied. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In an interview for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Coveteur</i> by Emily Ramshaw, SJP said:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I knew that I wanted a teeny bit of cognac, a teeny bit of leather, a
teeny bit of body odour</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Well, these are not
technically listed notes in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> but
they haunt its edges like the memories of past indiscretions. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The main effect in the scent is massoia, such
an addictive weird facet, used magnificently in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Santal Massoia</i> by Jean-Claude Ellena in the Hermessence series for
Hermès.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Massoia wood is actually
completely prohibited in perfumery as it so allergenic on skin in even the
smallest amounts, but the smell is a cocooning lacteous wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jean-Claude Ellena achieved his glorious
creamy effects with a variety of sandalwood materials, fascinated by the linear
quality of the massoia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, even though
it listed as a note in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> it is
likely to be an accord unless IFF has a stable and workable captive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it is, it’s gorgeously milky and
pheronomic with a metallic, lived in quality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The body odour thing SJP has discussed in interviews is not the cumin
bangs oud in the dark thing you get with a lot of modern so-called skank stuff,
but a really moving, impression of a wearing the essence of someone else’s skin
and truffly odour they have left behind on sweaters, nightwear and rumpled
t-shirts. There is longing in the tactile grubby drawl of the fade. Massoia
accords always smell like coconut to me, but slightly oily and queasy, not the
fresh tropical buzz one might expect. This exalts the borrowed skin facet as
well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIjQVqL5ly-ySiy3FChbDnQz_xfxkyvbTJEk77fhLSqflixBxIOdoEtwiBHf6Q97MGu1O2XsE8wWMvUsFyWKj2Zsevxjp58YElP-nby4cjj69q_w-eps-u_kCaBBn1Tkh88aA0Rkx4x8/s1600/sjpveil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDIjQVqL5ly-ySiy3FChbDnQz_xfxkyvbTJEk77fhLSqflixBxIOdoEtwiBHf6Q97MGu1O2XsE8wWMvUsFyWKj2Zsevxjp58YElP-nby4cjj69q_w-eps-u_kCaBBn1Tkh88aA0Rkx4x8/s320/sjpveil.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">SJP (lensed by Testino)<br />Montage by TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Black pepper, sage and a
quiet patchouli note also bolster SJP’s vision of her unisex riskiness and enveloping
fever. There is a very elegant frankincense note in the base, a reference to
her beloved </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Avignon</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> that plumes over
a deeply sexy Atlas cedar note. Mr E. told me that he thinks of cedar as a
feminine wood and men are drawn to the scent on skin and likewise sandalwood is
a masculine wood and women find the scent of it very sensual on men’s skin. The
massoia in </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Stash</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> may have been
created out of sandalwood materials so mixing it with Atlas cedar; a wood with
a sweet balsamic personality makes for a giddy, sexy brew. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The constant shift of gender
in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> as opposed to the
mundaneness of dullard unisex concoctions is what makes the perfume so
arresting to wear. It is very hard not to overdose, I find myself looping the
bottle around my neck and over my hair several times as I spray. The top notes
are wonderfully brisk, huge grinds of black pepper over acerbic grapefruit and
that humming swell of sage leading into the languid bed stretch between
truffled patchouli and SJP’s fetish frankincense smoke. Slippery musks and just
enough oily nuttiness from a suggested pistachio effect only serve to enhance
that lived in, morning after skin thing that SJP seemed to desire in this strange
autobiographical juice. It is this slow decent into a lived in sensual and
plaintive funk that demonstrates how expertly composed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> is; mixing a woman’s desire to be louche and aroused whilst
losing herself in her own closely guarded stash of memories. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As long as they make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i> I will wear it; it is wonderful to
find something unique and personal made by a collective of noses and
actor/writer/model etc who has genuinely immersed themselves in the olfactive
process with such intimate commitment and joy. In the case of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stash</i>, like fine wine or deep amber malt
whisky, the idea has been macerating for years. It was worth the wait, it would
have very sad for SJP to have pushed through the launch of this instead of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lovely </i>all those years ago, for it would
have surely been met with puzzlement and commercial failure. Now however her
status as an icon of elemental statement style and the ever widening distance
from SATC have allowed Sarah Jessica Parker to launch a fascinating and
beguiling perfume that succeeds in surprising, seducing and shocking just a
little each time you wear it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LISemdggHR-KBWxviXGSPJx6fiyr7omJlrJpMwq9WKYvLEAlVf3FDORwVoa1d3KT1pzu2AgefgR5wNYnRNxyfG5LCC0VUnMSAnFXRIWWCppbwEig0icwXlD6niKuHvP17rb_5EK6ljk/s1600/stash1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LISemdggHR-KBWxviXGSPJx6fiyr7omJlrJpMwq9WKYvLEAlVf3FDORwVoa1d3KT1pzu2AgefgR5wNYnRNxyfG5LCC0VUnMSAnFXRIWWCppbwEig0icwXlD6niKuHvP17rb_5EK6ljk/s320/stash1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>For more information on Sarah Jessica Parker fragrances, please click on the link below:</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.sjpbeauty.com/"><i>SJP Beauty</i></a> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">©The Silver Fox March 2017 </span><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-77317560675972501582017-03-16T00:25:00.000+00:002017-07-01T11:49:40.089+01:00City of Blood, City of Prayer: OSANG by Talismans Collezione Preziosa<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-T_s7Z7zbqYBUFOs4VjhcJvJq3UgxHVp138Qsw_Aedg8IlEKq0AZwa6BDI1JyQbltavLEBGM7L5sGYwTsfWuoa55NP8dfDKAbX-qSnRzjTWkdqGilWhCNk2wwsdFRiLgtP4ysg46WfI/s1600/blood+prayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-T_s7Z7zbqYBUFOs4VjhcJvJq3UgxHVp138Qsw_Aedg8IlEKq0AZwa6BDI1JyQbltavLEBGM7L5sGYwTsfWuoa55NP8dfDKAbX-qSnRzjTWkdqGilWhCNk2wwsdFRiLgtP4ysg46WfI/s320/blood+prayer.jpg" width="292" /></span></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘To me every hour of the light and dark is a
miracle’<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(From ‘Miracles’ by
Walt Whitman)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In Naples, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">urs sanguinium</i>, 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tvaQ9fJOpDDQFXTMSTnJjimdHDs1InLXTLBTAfWEuLrq4JcvG5_cvJC8SEyWPAnpn3u5nKueGa9cAhN0yAbLrCZcv5ysOJG2BjGVNmFeIqCMOinYO6jDuRCRWdUgfJ5sNmUMe72yCIg/s1600/blood1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tvaQ9fJOpDDQFXTMSTnJjimdHDs1InLXTLBTAfWEuLrq4JcvG5_cvJC8SEyWPAnpn3u5nKueGa9cAhN0yAbLrCZcv5ysOJG2BjGVNmFeIqCMOinYO6jDuRCRWdUgfJ5sNmUMe72yCIg/s320/blood1.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">The blood of San Gennaro</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Succorpo</i>
beneath the cathedral. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The first documented
accounts of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Liquefazione</i> 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 17<sup>th</sup>
century. This in turn is zealously guarded under lock and key by city officials
in a bank vault. On September 19<sup>th</sup>, St. Januarius Day, the day of
his Martyrdom, December 16<sup>th</sup>, 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.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNYR0WCyfDzE-lUUSnCkL1bZruFHLwrVm78BGZ9DDW82zR5B8KfFR_XTBsw2gM2JUA8VxxoBQ92Ky2aSbbMxBV9snEA4SeZEB9945qWK7Q1v9RrJ8qo9mTpB0n6QpAPpqMElIKy-luj4/s1600/vesuvio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNYR0WCyfDzE-lUUSnCkL1bZruFHLwrVm78BGZ9DDW82zR5B8KfFR_XTBsw2gM2JUA8VxxoBQ92Ky2aSbbMxBV9snEA4SeZEB9945qWK7Q1v9RrJ8qo9mTpB0n6QpAPpqMElIKy-luj4/s320/vesuvio.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Vesuvio from above & side..<br />bloodstained by TSF</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Ever present too is
Vesuvius, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monte</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vesuvio</i>, 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. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le
Mat</i> and the beguiling sea-dream leather <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sogno
Reale</i>. I have been wearing the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">extraits</i>
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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEw5RAZb9cvqiHjr8zmFnM1WmaGgHAj5gvoaQ-IKD5EEQEz6FrBz9FIhibn7NufgFVcMulO2PWG5gWfJOcrVTs_0JpjnxBYDhSFAsrqVCSCwvY0VbEwzznxGOKbKtHotppndoXjxTtgdA/s1600/nettuno1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEw5RAZb9cvqiHjr8zmFnM1WmaGgHAj5gvoaQ-IKD5EEQEz6FrBz9FIhibn7NufgFVcMulO2PWG5gWfJOcrVTs_0JpjnxBYDhSFAsrqVCSCwvY0VbEwzznxGOKbKtHotppndoXjxTtgdA/s320/nettuno1.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Nettuno by Talismans<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i>, 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">South</i> and bleak, volcanic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Id</i> from the line but I always felt the
more avant-garde jewels of the line <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le
Mat</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sogno Reale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i> should either be contained
within their own descriptive category in the line or have their own dazzling
life outside Menditterosa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> by house favourite Amélie
Bourgeois and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Archetipo</i> signed off by
Italian wunderkind Luca Maffei. This contrasting and revelatory duo (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m not doing big reveals here…more on them
to come perhaps in a separate piece</i>) will join <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alfa, Omega, North, South</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Id</i>.
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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Mat, Sogno Reale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i>
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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Malocchio</i>,
the evil eye, dispel malaise and guard against uncertainty and misfortune. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Talismans Collezione Preziosa</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">can be traced to the
Arabic word </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">tilsam</i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">, apparently from
an alteration of the Greek</span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> telesma</i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">,
itself referring to the Ancient Greek verb </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">telein</i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">,
which means to initiate into the mysteries, complete, perform a rite, from </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">telos</i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> meaning result, end.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Talisman, juju,
fetish, amulet, charm, totem and periapt. Things imbued with power and promise
of safety. This new brand concept will present the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">extrait</i> strength perfumes as powerful olfactive invocations, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Prayer as perfume, Perfume as prayer</i> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i>,
but this in no way influenced my opinions when it came to write reviews. If I
hadn’t liked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i>, 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> painted on the side in white
marker. Somehow it seemed intrinsically appropriate, artistic even. Black
glass, obscuring <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIAVKKl4o_yMEw8PFMwmcLHVbWtfTO0nYPOWLaYeJc9vNr1gsgqEaC7rfNRwkzbZ8b3FQLpTvi8cTVm21mumJEPU1iIzyTL1d88kC2x9HULjKluiwCqiN0HsDfUKNz0FZfMzX6rHm8hI/s1600/osang+sample+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIAVKKl4o_yMEw8PFMwmcLHVbWtfTO0nYPOWLaYeJc9vNr1gsgqEaC7rfNRwkzbZ8b3FQLpTvi8cTVm21mumJEPU1iIzyTL1d88kC2x9HULjKluiwCqiN0HsDfUKNz0FZfMzX6rHm8hI/s320/osang+sample+.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I reviewed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/search?q=nettuno">Nettuno</a></i> last year in July, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.ascentofelegance.com/2015/12/soulfood-for-dreamersle-mat-sogno-reale.html">Sogno Reale</a></i> in December 2015 and reviewed
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.cafleurebon.com/new-fragrance-review-mendittorosa-odori-danima-le-mat-perfume-as-soulfood-draw/">Le Mat</a></i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> flacon is quite a departure from
previous Menditterosa bottles, not so much the glass container itself but the
dramatic white Capodimonte porcelain <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hooded</i>
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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="http://www.nadafornada.it/">Nada for Nada</a> run by sisters Dafne
and Ivana</i>. Each purchased edition of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i>
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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">OSANG<br />image ©Ramy Leon Lorenco</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Talismans Le Mat<br />Image ©TSF</span><br /><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le
Mat</i> is a moody patchouli scent with echoes of vintage Caron for those that
have that association; in my Cafleurebon review, I said: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘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</i>.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Mat </i>is a rich and heady brew of
spices, roses and implied sweet earthen metaphor; traveling into the unknown,
taking chances, embracing the uncharted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdbbB_1nqLV7SOi3LDVUzEqjP3QJMscazMbzztyGtJyB8k1K1UJ395xm5oN2MZL_yPCY7FRZHnC5BFb5RXMeBMsH3PR35a0pvqgDtYFtHLETD21TG2-Me5iqFhFh3heRrJGWbn7bb4Cs/s1600/sognoreale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdbbB_1nqLV7SOi3LDVUzEqjP3QJMscazMbzztyGtJyB8k1K1UJ395xm5oN2MZL_yPCY7FRZHnC5BFb5RXMeBMsH3PR35a0pvqgDtYFtHLETD21TG2-Me5iqFhFh3heRrJGWbn7bb4Cs/s320/sognoreale.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Talisman's Sogno Reale<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sogno Reale</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Flight of Neptune</i>, everything seemed weightier, more layered and elaborate.
The talismanic theme for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTRmAoWUUx9Uhqo3fhYqcFVjDW5mwyh3uGr1vVp7w3_SwgXNu7aAy0peKUkilgYnrcbZ6zLc5wfvkRjrBPwGG60_jBpWxiZFHwiDKOz0VQ5sHFaqXv6dblGHs67JYDwfKYpdc2zr_Xj8/s1600/ss1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTRmAoWUUx9Uhqo3fhYqcFVjDW5mwyh3uGr1vVp7w3_SwgXNu7aAy0peKUkilgYnrcbZ6zLc5wfvkRjrBPwGG60_jBpWxiZFHwiDKOz0VQ5sHFaqXv6dblGHs67JYDwfKYpdc2zr_Xj8/s320/ss1.jpg" width="289" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Stefania Squeglia <br />(Vesuvio) portrait..<br />Image manipulated by TSF</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i> review last year I wrote:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">…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>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I was very aware
then of the burgeoning relevance this triptych of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Mat</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sogno Reale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i> had for Stefania and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">la famiglia Menditterosa. </i>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> will be the fourth Talisman,
officially launching at Esxence in March alongside <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rituale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Architepo</i>,
the two new members of the Menditterosa Odori d’Anima clan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Everything about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfume as prayer, prayer as perfume</i>.
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.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Napoli and Its Huge Hope</i>, 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i>,
pagan totem worship, surging religiosity, protection, miracles, supplication,
spirit and a sense of uncertainly made odiferous and wonderful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">OSANG<br />A miracle of love</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">the faithful await the miracle.. </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">the blood.. the skull..</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">OSANG</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> 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.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As the San Gennaro
spectacle is about miracle and light from darkness, as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i>; 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; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i>
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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> is quite different in tone from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le Mat, Sogno Reale</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nettuno</i>;
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> per fumum</i>, through smoke, sending supplication and prayers to gods
and skies above. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Talismans box text..</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">image ©Ramy Leon Lorenco</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"> </span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">OSANG</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><i><o:p><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">For more information on </span></o:p><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Talismans & Menditterosa Odori d'Anima please click on the link below:</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.mendittorosa.com/mendittorosa-shop/"><i><span style="color: #444444;">Talismans & Menditterosa</span></i></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">©TheSilverFox March 2017</span><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Disclosure: Sample kindly sent by Talismans and all opinions very much my own</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-38702747656919157492017-03-12T15:35:00.001+00:002017-03-12T22:05:08.170+00:00A Dream Of Berti: A Fleur de Piel – Macerations, Distillations & Enfleurage (Interlude I)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDbVmlcKzTCyio6m9BkQ0TcuKWd8JCJvbcS61daojtLiaGSCO70BZgJ88uwPTtE68OAm-jfA9u0lHF3SxvtHqVOZdgML7XuvBrFR2kDKBAS5YOSARrOWUJ4JzL4402IkivD9M7SewNus/s1600/IMG_1110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDbVmlcKzTCyio6m9BkQ0TcuKWd8JCJvbcS61daojtLiaGSCO70BZgJ88uwPTtE68OAm-jfA9u0lHF3SxvtHqVOZdgML7XuvBrFR2kDKBAS5YOSARrOWUJ4JzL4402IkivD9M7SewNus/s320/IMG_1110.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘I would choose the
tulips reckless way of going; <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Whose petals answer
light, altering by fractions <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">From closed to wide,
from one through many perfections, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Til wreched,
flamboyant, strayed beyond recall, <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Like flakes of fire
they piecemeal fall</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(From ‘Deaths of Flowers’ by Edith Joy Scovell)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This is the first I hope in a series of slightly different
fragrance focussed essays shorter in length called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Interludes</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I would also like to use <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Interludes</i>
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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Berti<br />Image courtesy <br />A Fleur de Piel Instagram</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enfleurage
pomade</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">The phantom joy of enfleurage</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Image courtesy </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">A Fleur de Piel Instagram</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seems</i>
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…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UZmvG4jQ_JPJ3WAz60I901kznlIHOpc18ENe_GtSvzmyeUSXLMFa8Qiu_Rq6k_NDtkz1yDptS6mbVFqlINK6kSNLhF4x_MaAC1pn-KefAAIARFUqeFIw1BHzXh69Lm1T62Ot2McOZzM/s1600/FullSizeRender_1+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9UZmvG4jQ_JPJ3WAz60I901kznlIHOpc18ENe_GtSvzmyeUSXLMFa8Qiu_Rq6k_NDtkz1yDptS6mbVFqlINK6kSNLhF4x_MaAC1pn-KefAAIARFUqeFIw1BHzXh69Lm1T62Ot2McOZzM/s320/FullSizeRender_1+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jasmine traces</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Image courtesy </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">A Fleur de Piel Instagram</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">On Berti’s beautifully curated Instagram there are a number
of enfleurage images, his blooms slumbering to their quiet deaths in aromatic
chassis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii6hLPOcjLdI0zim_-FplRanKZGjNHBmTldV7qmsii6A9ms3OIi1zLTjHBAZxlDpK_x6zcVhj8_OlavoK2oO4w_n9KMF8kdkQWAUOjqkcTEmdoW-mKDCRRaywAGdJ5yER3R4hMXtPyFhw/s1600/enfbw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii6hLPOcjLdI0zim_-FplRanKZGjNHBmTldV7qmsii6A9ms3OIi1zLTjHBAZxlDpK_x6zcVhj8_OlavoK2oO4w_n9KMF8kdkQWAUOjqkcTEmdoW-mKDCRRaywAGdJ5yER3R4hMXtPyFhw/s320/enfbw.jpg" width="244" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Woman preparing the enfleurage chassis<br />Image - Courtesy of Fritzache Bothers Inc, New York</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years ago it was
carried out on quite the scale, flowers laid on specially prepared sheets of
glass or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chassis</i> as they were known,
the heads carefully monitored and changed at regular intervals usually by women.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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 ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the perfect medium between art and science’</i>.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Loaded enfleurage chassis</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Al Zahir,
Ola, Tardor</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E Lys</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As soon as I posted that I returned to Berti.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ola</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rose image ©TFS</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I always think boys smell delicious in roses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite being made for one of Berti’s
girlfriends and being undeniably feminine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ola</i>
has a bitter jamminess and nuzzle-plush muskiness that are defiantly ambiguous
on my skin as the notes settle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure I worry about this actually;
roses have always seemed to me a blessing, imbuing my flesh with desire and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ola</i> is beautiful delicate wearing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like a friend has visited and
departed, never to return but the scent of their skin seems to linger in the
air.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Al Zahir</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have slowly come to like a
more full-bodied indolic orange blossom scent, Bertrand Duchaufour’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Séville à l’Aube </i>for example, costus,
beeswax, Luisieri lavender and a glittering golden orange blossom note or
Daniela Andrier-Roche’s beautiful <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Knot</i>
for Bottega Veneta, lush citrus notes thrown over the orange blossom and white
rose. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Séville..</i> is erotic
recollection and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Knot</i> is wistful wondering.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Bitter Orange Image (stock apped by TSF)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When orange blossom is used well and with intelligence it
seems to have an ability to arouse the senses. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Al Zahir</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can almost smell the transparency and
ghostliness of the absolutes and concretes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The method gives the materials a vital echo of actual nature.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">His Instagram for A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fleur
de Piel</i> 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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was always artistic and questioning but his
dreamy account provides a lush and personal window into his heartfelt and
painstaking machinations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Al Zahir</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the blotter and on fabric actually, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Al Zahir </i>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Lily (image ©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Berti knows how much I love the scent of white lilies, so he
included a sample of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E Lys</i> in the
vials he sent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E Lys</i>
is a gorgeous rush of achromic bloom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
many years Penhaligon’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lily & Spice</i>
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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Tra La La, Sartorial, Orange Blossom </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ostara</i> (also axed), noticeably all Bertrand Duchaufour fragrances. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Baiser Volé by Cartier<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">My other beloved lily soliflore is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Baiser Volé</i>, Mathilde Laurent’s sublime essay in crystalline
ikebana for Maison Cartier. I have gone through umpteen bottles of this and the
unctuous <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Baiser Volé Essence De Parfum</i>
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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fleshy,
curvilinear petals emit their controversial reek of erotic allure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will never tire of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Baiser</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Volé</i> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Berti’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E Lys </i>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. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E Lys</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Too many lily formulae flirt with that camphor/mothball
effect I mentioned earlier or overdo the supporting cast of jasmine, ylang and
vanilla. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E Lys</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The final perfume in the quartet Berti sent me was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tardor</i>, his take on the floral chypré
genre with a ghostly leather shadow cast across it, tinged with slightly damp
regret. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a sudden rush of
classic Dior, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dioressence</i> especially
in the mossy verdancy and I assume (along with the visual proof from images on
his Instagram) some distilled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">evernia
prunastri</i> 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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On card and skin, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tardor</i> develops a soapy, rosemary-like intensity that was pretty
strong, more so on skin that I found quite difficult to handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my least favourite of the four Berti
sent, but that oakmoss start is super. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV04sjJssCJt5Dbk2f-DLx0YyvjVGCRmNtuyBsZrktF9oXzKoFw87V4Wm2KrAHzwbJcaEX5A7kxxaWGISQRQEhgYtqlYV0jWd7yW7_BKv6TJ72pr7brSAmbmA-Rg_cDWomi3cN9GqsjLU/s1600/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV04sjJssCJt5Dbk2f-DLx0YyvjVGCRmNtuyBsZrktF9oXzKoFw87V4Wm2KrAHzwbJcaEX5A7kxxaWGISQRQEhgYtqlYV0jWd7yW7_BKv6TJ72pr7brSAmbmA-Rg_cDWomi3cN9GqsjLU/s320/FullSizeRender_2.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Raw materials<br />Beeswax, oakmoss, orris root</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Image courtesy </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">A Fleur de Piel Instagram</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">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</i>.
‘<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This Interlude piece is my way of introducing you all to
Berti and his processes; you should follow progress on his A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fleur de Piel</i> Instagram page. He has
plans to consolidate and clarify his fragrance formulae and create a website,
something he doesn’t have just now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Cgx0LvW0ITxSQLQMK2ecO0bkLphqRTLZdacbT-BlsjouqOFwmhxEu4oLq8iuft3yhnQEzlUO9Y14zaW7x6ihl9E3s9iN0nKkPs94HdJvVEfN1_yMVY1569gf6DakJOIuvbPDr4kUelY/s1600/FullSizeRender_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Cgx0LvW0ITxSQLQMK2ecO0bkLphqRTLZdacbT-BlsjouqOFwmhxEu4oLq8iuft3yhnQEzlUO9Y14zaW7x6ihl9E3s9iN0nKkPs94HdJvVEfN1_yMVY1569gf6DakJOIuvbPDr4kUelY/s320/FullSizeRender_3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">One of Berti's distillation classes (lavender...)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Image courtesy </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">A Fleur de Piel Instagram</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have been sampling so much since last summer, making up I
guess for all the time I lost to illness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">E Lys</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ola</i> in particular demonstrate the sheer beauty of enfleurage; the ways the materials
produced have such vital force and movement in air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rose in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ola</i> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhGCXZEgZ69FBPqBxj8SOC2X_jAIcVvVREc5dhH1NmC6_UQooNagDHvJIvYDe3JByIIVYQ26JkU-47tpNTt8hZVH9QQGf-OfPe-PZy6G2RCzgEd9zdVgSyD0vUUyJu4SUOMyzSjt_vkU/s1600/ENF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhGCXZEgZ69FBPqBxj8SOC2X_jAIcVvVREc5dhH1NmC6_UQooNagDHvJIvYDe3JByIIVYQ26JkU-47tpNTt8hZVH9QQGf-OfPe-PZy6G2RCzgEd9zdVgSyD0vUUyJu4SUOMyzSjt_vkU/s320/ENF.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Hyacinth enfleurage (image apped TFS)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Image courtesy </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">A Fleur de Piel Instagram</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> perfumer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really? I
don’t think so. It depends on what you want from your perfume.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Instagram: </span></o:p><br />
<o:p><br /></o:p>
<o:p><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/a_fleurdepiel/">https://www.instagram.com/a_fleurdepiel/</a> </span></o:p><br />
<o:p><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span></o:p>
<o:p><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">E: <a href="mailto:perfumeafleurdepiel@gmail.com">perfumeafleurdepiel@gmail.com</a></span></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">©TheSilverFox March 2017</span></div>
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-52096815103620644772017-01-29T23:52:00.000+00:002017-03-30T14:12:57.793+01:00If You Look Closely It Is Written Over And Over Upon My Body - ‘Palimpsest’ by Mandy Aftel (American Trilogy I)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7JqMCA2XzongdgcNARKm4bRedTy5CskNwUtxdIqn7yqqxJJmTctnR_lhy_1AcxbTB9JTb-Aox_BaTrYHBbvc7NbVanRuABPFOHTksKAgu1oinRj9kwGEKBE5NEkxNPSaRekEWA2c574/s1600/melayered2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7JqMCA2XzongdgcNARKm4bRedTy5CskNwUtxdIqn7yqqxJJmTctnR_lhy_1AcxbTB9JTb-Aox_BaTrYHBbvc7NbVanRuABPFOHTksKAgu1oinRj9kwGEKBE5NEkxNPSaRekEWA2c574/s400/melayered2.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">‘What’s left is palimpsest – one memory
bleeding into another, overwriting it.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Natasha Trethewewy<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">My recent months on
a continual diet of opiates have seemed at times like a kind of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Traumnovelle</i>, my nights a woozy roaming of
page upon page of my fears, past and coruscating anxieties. My memories erase
and rewrite themselves in a seemingly endless shadowed vellum of curative
process. So many friends and lovers rise and talk, touch and vanish during
these unnervingly inscribed hours. One of my meds seems to grant a particularly
heightened creation of olfactive recollections; I wake from fraught tangled
dreams with blurred and fading catches of perfumes, rooms, skin, hair, kisses
and sexual echo. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">To be honest, I
dislike reverie but interestingly such sonorous cathartic dreaming is a form of
psychic palimpsest, partially erasing vintage recollections and meanderings,
musing over them in the hinterlands of sleep. I have become so much more aware
of odour in dreams, waking with imagined traces on skin, fabric and sheets like
phantom love, vanishing as the light dissolves darkness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLs3cLyCWykzq4DUxz6oChb8gUFsMgKiOtKxe-9Dyrf90m7Ls73NJUuMTLVpcSs4W82ydXL2IF-PUytoXnMd6T0MMeQi982p4dGeiN1IcmSznaCglcAWVXZdTZ15fb3hz_DZAcrcCSerE/s1600/bluearm1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLs3cLyCWykzq4DUxz6oChb8gUFsMgKiOtKxe-9Dyrf90m7Ls73NJUuMTLVpcSs4W82ydXL2IF-PUytoXnMd6T0MMeQi982p4dGeiN1IcmSznaCglcAWVXZdTZ15fb3hz_DZAcrcCSerE/s320/bluearm1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Foxy Hospital I (2016)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">As long as I can
remember I have been fascinated by the concept of paintings and drawings created
over erstwhile work. In my own artworks I use a lot of mixed media on tough
cartridge paper; it takes quite a battering and I think I’m aware when I’m
working of how the pigments, textures and effects adhere and conversely fall
out and fade if I choose to reuse or force the paintings through a palimpsest
process. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">It is an oddly
satisfying process, the removal of one’s carefully applied techniques, hues,
observations and imagination. I wash the work in a bright white bath until they
have almost dissolved, watching the colours bleed away down the drain and then
I re-stretch them on battered, savaged boards that have absorbed everything
over the years from ink, wax and watercolour to spots of blood, soot and plant
matter. Each work inherits genetic material from previous work from the
embedded shadows, lines and scarification of paper to the absorption of
detritus from the boards. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">As the papers slowly
dry, tightening in their gum paper surrounds, ghostly lines, blooms and phantom
chromatics reveal themselves. I work over these, sometimes ghosting them too,
creating more histories. Photographing over lightboxes and then using these
images to create further work just deepens the strata. I write on everything,
use collage, magazine text, pieces of old sketchbooks and found photographs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Our skin is a
manifestation of memory-paper, absorbing odours and stimulating the limbic
system in the brain to recall the filmic moments, good or bad associated with
certain notes, accords, odours and fragmentations of jolted aromatic
perception. Throughout our lifetimes we write and overwrite upon ourselves a
manifold and intricate anthology of aromas; perfumes, oils, blood, mud, rain, saliva,
semen, lipsticks, sweat, pets, tobacco, grass, ink and soaps. These layers
become virtually erased over time but there are faint indelible psychological
traces that are triggered occasionally and the skin comes alive with bursts of
remembrance flaring like watchfires in the night. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">If perfumes were
coloured in some strange dye and visible only under special luminescent viewing
conditions most of us would glow spectacularly like splashed and graffitied
letters of love and obsession, lines, doodles, jottings and equations of
desires scrawled across us in mingled, multi-traced olfactive missives. We are
our private perfumed palimpsests. This is important to remember. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha_N0x8iu-CTxe_VVd9j2P10FZawens3lHFvJfFXPskhBXY81R33PPqUThcuTQbrDuvc1XPVLZDevka5UiGStoFO7CbbC17Xn1ImL9A50mI85Zm1KCooHEQ4muhxiuWcOv2AXjfdkLNEs/s1600/MAPalimpsest1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha_N0x8iu-CTxe_VVd9j2P10FZawens3lHFvJfFXPskhBXY81R33PPqUThcuTQbrDuvc1XPVLZDevka5UiGStoFO7CbbC17Xn1ImL9A50mI85Zm1KCooHEQ4muhxiuWcOv2AXjfdkLNEs/s320/MAPalimpsest1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Palimpsest</i> by Aftelier Perfumes </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Image created by TSF</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: large;">Spraying Mandy
Aftel’s </span><i style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Courier New';">Palimpsest</i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: large;"> onto my skin each
time is utter bliss, the creamy indolic rapture of ylang and jasmine exploding
beautifully, throwing the most enticing light upwards, illuminating the
shimmering, blanched florality of the cedrat-blessed yuzu in the skylight of
the scent. Mandy has created a superlative overture of glistening, demanding
intricacy, laying down the archaeology and suggestion of memory archives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Added to this
complex top are Phenylacetic acid and Gamma dodecalactone a natural isolate
derived from apricots. This gorgeous unique material is an amazing and transformative
addition to the perfumer’s palette, lending compositions a distinctive smeared
and luscious fatty peach/apricot facet. It can be overused and dominate, but
used judiciously it provides a sense of unparalleled beauty, an enticing orchard
quality of stone fruit, fuzzy skin and ripe juice. The original majesty of
Guerlain’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mitsouko</i> before the
soulless reformulation lies in a luminous central peach core wrapped in ylang,
rose and jasmine on a dangerously beautiful chypré infused base. Mandy has handled
the Gamma dodecalactone with incredible finesse; it has all the required
peachiness and blush of its regular lactonic personality but there is an
undeniable edge to it, a metallic oddity under the ripeness like lime rubbed
along rusted iron. It is a clever conjuring that removes any potential overt fruitiness
that might have occurred. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1fS_yoDhkYWjquALP-UiOkSB4_DtcgehjsXPIH_bcPRIe7WBSXzZhAgf0jAbHhp-qUolO7B38aiOuYhruPLZkzuUvXnhwiK1pD7LA0Lq66N9o0ILVXNwbO_b7IeOfXWLNDu42ntBwHqc/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1fS_yoDhkYWjquALP-UiOkSB4_DtcgehjsXPIH_bcPRIe7WBSXzZhAgf0jAbHhp-qUolO7B38aiOuYhruPLZkzuUvXnhwiK1pD7LA0Lq66N9o0ILVXNwbO_b7IeOfXWLNDu42ntBwHqc/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Aftelier sample set..<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">This edginess is due
I think to the delicate calibration with Phenylacetic acid, a striking material
usually found in a white solid (or crystal) form that generally has an
attractively disturbing odour that perturbs and entices simultaneously. It has
a reputation as a particularly tenacious material. I have sampled it on
mouillettes and it remained alive and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">calling</i>
as it were for days. In lower more controlled concentrations Phenylacetic acid
suggests the odour of warmed, civetty-suffused honey with spikes of snarly cat
amid the eccentric smoulder. It brings with it just enough dirtiness; nothing
obscene or confrontational, instead a kind of sweet purring animalism, a hidebound
nearness that smells increasingly </span></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: large;">compulsive as </span><i style="color: #666666; font-family: 'Courier New';">Palimpsest</i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: large;"> heats up on skin. There is a
seductive corrupted narcissus facet at play in the background and this works so
well with the ylang and jasmine that Mandy has utilised in the heart of the construction.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufKpZBpJ-_OG9rFoIgCQxKlJsND8Paxaf2SK3bI6ViKOozei4TtgvRR8pKSnfH2t37FmQX8F-JjiGk33LSdACSY8Dp4vzs494iQLptT65B-L0gF2PwiDKGYZwEUlpQUjOHalo9mactW0/s1600/peach2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgufKpZBpJ-_OG9rFoIgCQxKlJsND8Paxaf2SK3bI6ViKOozei4TtgvRR8pKSnfH2t37FmQX8F-JjiGk33LSdACSY8Dp4vzs494iQLptT65B-L0gF2PwiDKGYZwEUlpQUjOHalo9mactW0/s320/peach2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">pretty peachy...</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Peach, while very
pretty and instantly recognisable in fragrances, is a tough fruitball to keep
aloft in the perfumed air. Yet despite its fleshly quirks and flagrant over use
in recent years in cheaper high street wares (Beyoncé <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Heat</i> I’m looking at you…), it remains one of the most atmospheric
and delicious notes in perfumery, partly I think because peaches seem like our
own skin, plush, delicately furred and cosily erotic. The original <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mitsouko</i> by Guerlain is the obvious
benchmark for any discussion of peach-toned aromatics but there are other
exceptional fragrances that use the peachy/apricot milkiness and lactonic stone
fruit booziness to beckon and seduce the senses. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SDdM605Yyig_yK2uyaxUWvkcPNPBVuF6ws7ywyhIsi4Fw3n3pe9RqvvMjEh1bG45umeuCcuwX1MVg35BqPgJrjNAbIFif72jBloeKowZb67_2VYlCHMD7wH219l1jRxJc1xSawclk7I/s1600/rush2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SDdM605Yyig_yK2uyaxUWvkcPNPBVuF6ws7ywyhIsi4Fw3n3pe9RqvvMjEh1bG45umeuCcuwX1MVg35BqPgJrjNAbIFif72jBloeKowZb67_2VYlCHMD7wH219l1jRxJc1xSawclk7I/s320/rush2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy Rush...<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">I would always
mention the neon hooker scream of Gucci’s 1999 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rush</i> made by the quixotically talented Michel Almairic when Tom
Ford was lashing his über-successful porno gloss over what had been up until
then a relatively straight-laced and rather dull euro jet set brand. The
plasticised clatter of shrieking abstract florals and overexposed druggy
peachiness is more grenade than perfume; but I have always loved it. The weird
collision of hairspray and ripe, glaring fruit is stunning. So many haters
hate. Boys smell divine in this by the way, like filthy sugared androids. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qpUvDF6fkRO6g-XyYbd-_FlZGTFpp96Hr8z3LqbuYzP_pNjciEdqLy_n4_EMN_EQMNZ2j8N3NwgSmpVgUtTDVQi__-VjHrLRzkjJEFATsQz12WBJmS4ynLikqcxu1Wh-OUu_o_2Lx-Y/s1600/FullSizeRender-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5qpUvDF6fkRO6g-XyYbd-_FlZGTFpp96Hr8z3LqbuYzP_pNjciEdqLy_n4_EMN_EQMNZ2j8N3NwgSmpVgUtTDVQi__-VjHrLRzkjJEFATsQz12WBJmS4ynLikqcxu1Wh-OUu_o_2Lx-Y/s320/FullSizeRender-36.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxglove by HYLNDS/DS & Durga<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";">The other one, which
couldn’t more different in tone to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rush</i>
is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxglove</i> by HYLNDS composed by
Brooklyn wunderkind David Seth Moltz of DS & Durga. HYLNDS is David and
wife Kavi’s more spiritual, mythical line set in the hinterlands of Celtic
storytelling. Influences include poetry, bardic utterances, grey stone, rivers,
beaten iron, mist, blood, battles and the pale thin veil between our world and
the darkness of gathered phantoms. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxglove</i>
is</span><span style="font-family: "courier new"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> inspired by the story of Oisin, the Irish
warrior poet, his lover Niamh and the mystical land of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tir Na Nog</i>, the tempting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Land
Of Youth</i> and a gorgeous mix of wild carrot, bone-dry iris, immortelle and a
sensational peach skin note than smells so real you imagine for a moment your
skin has transformed into golden furred fruit. The key to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Foxglove</i> actually lies in the top, a sublime citron note that
explodes the top notes like fingernails in the flesh of the knobbly fruit
itself. It seems to illuminate the rest of the materials like fireworks. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "courier new"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Mandy has used the </span><span style="font-family: "courier new";">Gamma dodecalactone at the very edge of
respectability, barely fresh, there is something perhaps a little unsettling in
her portrayal of bruised, over-pressed flesh. It adds just the right dosage of
porno-sap to edgily lacquer the timbre of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Palimpsest’s</i>
enigmatic proceedings. Other perfumers would have been a lot more careless, but
when you have trained yourself the way Mandy has and have an instinctual
understanding of raw materials and their personalities you will always know how
they love, live and play within formulations. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0F_n7Emqj9Wgw-yt2AG3_Ox2rV28T0y2ZndFtAn9DeA3Mj4qbN5a4rqLbaxEs2_zd2X2ykCq8HHiel5Wm1qvqgerO5rT9dhj8vaOrz61uAvVmR4KkmlbRFjhwiH1AaphdVx0RKuVcWY/s1600/firetreemontage1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0F_n7Emqj9Wgw-yt2AG3_Ox2rV28T0y2ZndFtAn9DeA3Mj4qbN5a4rqLbaxEs2_zd2X2ykCq8HHiel5Wm1qvqgerO5rT9dhj8vaOrz61uAvVmR4KkmlbRFjhwiH1AaphdVx0RKuVcWY/s400/firetreemontage1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Firetree montage ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">All of this lush,
dexterous complexity is scene setting and sensual prep for Mandy’s
extraordinary (and unique) Firetree essence that glows in the base with her
trademark smoky vanilla absolutes and poignantly wrought ambergris notes. It
starts low and inexorably rises to effloresce like aurous fire reflecting in
many ways the flaming foliage of this iconic native Australian tree when the
vital essence originated from. Mandy thinks and she’s probably correct that’s
she is the only perfumer to be using the Firetree essence in this intense and
undiluted form. And I for one am very glad.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">She originally came
across it during one of her insatiable and intensive global forays for raw
materials; always looking for the best, the highest quality and the most
textured and gourmet if you like, materials that speak to her years of intuition,
experimentation and personal interaction with repeated variants of ingredients.
The batch she found was diluted with DPG something she doesn’t use in her line
so she contacted the supplier who kindly put her in touch with the original
source of the Firetree essence. She told me it took a year of asking (begging
would be a more accurate term I think..)before they finally relented and sold
her a kilo of pure unadulterated glowing essence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">It was absolutely
worth the persistence, the material is unique and multi-layered appropriately
enough and extremely complex as befitting such a strange and perplexing tree.
The odour is described variously as milky-rose with hits of bitter green
leafiness. Others mention a soft warm boozy quality as it warms through, a kind
of bush amber with wooded aspects that melt with skin. The only trusted word on
this really belongs to Mandy; I wrote and asked her what the raw material
smelled like and she replied:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">‘.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.the essential oil is harvested under
special permit form dead or fallen trees. It has a complex aroma, highly
diffusive with lilac/rose notes and milky undertones that give way to a floral
sweet spiciness. This morphs into a more woody, earthy, slightly leathery note..
ending finally in a smoky oud-like drydown</i>.’ <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">With that in mind I
want to talk about the Australian Firetree (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nuytsia
floribunda</i>) that is particularly native to South Western Australia and is
actually classified as a large mistletoe. It lives a strange semi-parasitic
existence, its odd white roots reaching out underground in the moist darkness
for other root systems to tap into. It is sometimes known as The Christmas Tree
as between October and January it produces a spectacular efflorescence of vivid
orange and yellow flame tinted blooms. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3zO0uN4d6Py4YvoLTRSIUNeBABiALlQvTTVfJHaQFZScf0SfHdH3wiHs0KACXOqTzAlSFBkyNH0tLJR_kuKYrFbdn1LAeNy6wjD_U119YzYilnHGGr_M_MgNctnDMEwDWCvsIK3UKHs/s1600/firetreesplit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3zO0uN4d6Py4YvoLTRSIUNeBABiALlQvTTVfJHaQFZScf0SfHdH3wiHs0KACXOqTzAlSFBkyNH0tLJR_kuKYrFbdn1LAeNy6wjD_U119YzYilnHGGr_M_MgNctnDMEwDWCvsIK3UKHs/s320/firetreesplit.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Nuytsia floribunda
is a sacred tree to the Noongar (or Nyungar) people of the South Western
Australian territories; there are several sacred and folk medicinal
associations with the tree and parts are in fact edible. The tree <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gives</i>. The flowers can be eaten; the
leaves are sharp enough to cut and slice through meat and the flower stems can
be fashioned into spears. Beliefs have sprung up around the flowers; using the
blooms in wedding bouquets will only bring misfortune to the bride and
harvesting the flowers before Christmas supposedly brings bad luck. I think
it’s interesting that the exhilarating clouds of flame-blooms seem like a
portend or echo of the deadly bushfires as their shocking colour often stands
out so vividly against the flat brush landscape around them. They are such amazing
trees above the ground and then you must remember the unnerving rooty vampirism
taking place in the soil for hundreds of yards from the original tree.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">In a letter to
Captain James Mangles a Royal naval officer and dedicated early botanist,
Georgiana Molloy (1805-1845) an early Australian settler, keen amateur botanist
and seed collector wrote:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have been out four times in quest of
Nuytsia and send you the very small harvest. They are difficult to obtain, if
not there the very day they ripen.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">(From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Portrait with Background: A Life of
Georgiana Molloy</i> by A. Hasluck, Oxford University Press, Melbourne)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Mangles asked
Georgiana to collect seeds on his behalf, something she did assiduously despite
the evident hardship of settler life and the traumatic death of her son. I came
across a poem entitled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nuytsia Floribunda</i>
by Alan Alexander that inspired by and celebrating Georgiana’s memory and work.
This excerpt is quite shattering. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">The parasite Floribunda for <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">My drowned son.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">How delicate they are, these<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";">Stars at random</span></i><span style="font-family: "courier new";">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">It is the
strangeness of this haunting arboreal essence that adds such beauteous layer of
meaning in Mandy’s profound gathering of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Palimpsest</i>.
She can undoubtedly create aromatic images of stained glass brilliance but for
me it is this unerring sense of narrative that sets her apart from so many of
her peers. Her learned alchemy, her fingers and mind of honed craft and almost
wiccan, application and practice have laid down a powerful body of olfactive
text for us to read. Her experiences, memories and erudition are given freely
in order for us to decode our own senses and odours. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">The strength and
vitality of Mandy’s materials on skin causes us to revaluate our perceptions of
how aroma evolves; the shards, curlicues and spills drop deep and re-emerge,
re-writing themselves on our bodies. There is truth and bare-face honesty
inscribed in repeated odours that when inhaled reveal voices, places, lovers,
joy, loss and shadow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Skin as canvas,
paper and vellum is hardly a novel concept, however skin as palimpsest, the
repeated act of erasure of past olfactive memories, cadences, touches, fucking,
gifting, transgression and epiphany; layering under years of other odours, this
perhaps is more complex, melancholy and dangerous. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Mandy was originally
inspired to create <i>Palimpsest</i> while doing research for her book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fragrant: The Secret Life of Scent</i>,
which looks at key materials such as mint, jasmine, cinnamon, frankincense and
ambergris and places them in powerful historical, social and aromatic
timelines. The chapter on jasmine is a dazzling read.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">At once voluptuous and delicate, earthy and
ethereal and elusive to those who would render these qualities immortal,
flowers are not only beautiful, but embody the paradoxes of Beauty that we
embrace when we are drawn into her arms.</i>’ <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">(From Fragrant: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Secret Life of Scent by Mandy Aftel</i>,
Chapter 6, Seduced by Beauty - Jasmine) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUa2QVldVAab-h7HyeUCBLg-UDzjCJuWIdSzLcpVFHJ3JHf7PogXhF3qekvcBRdZeHHUc7hf__9BquHpmLS1OssBCwt_icJLqiTvPJ8Blt6TixNPzhYd5UG6ZxQXPI51UDwN0lfdS5NM/s1600/Palimp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbUa2QVldVAab-h7HyeUCBLg-UDzjCJuWIdSzLcpVFHJ3JHf7PogXhF3qekvcBRdZeHHUc7hf__9BquHpmLS1OssBCwt_icJLqiTvPJ8Blt6TixNPzhYd5UG6ZxQXPI51UDwN0lfdS5NM/s400/Palimp1.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><i>Fragrant: The Secret Life of Scent</i><br />by Mandy Aftel </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">When she decided to
pursue this life of obsessive scented pathways and scented alchemy Mandy
carefully amassed a detailed and eclectic collection of books on the subject of
perfumery through the ages. These tomes seemed like recipe books, not as we
recognise them now but guidance to medicinal preparations, simple elixirs,
lovecraft, poisons, animal husbandry, midwifery, poultices, herbal remedies,
but all demonstrating an instinctual awareness of odour and its effects on
spirit and miasma. Noticing a variety of repetition in many cases, an essence
of hand-me-down telling of herbal lore and craft, Mandy realised that ONLY by
practicing, following and echoing this powerful layered set of histories was
she able to make sense of her own place in the continuum. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I wanted to capture the feeling of how the
past is alive in the present but transferred into beautiful, shadowed feeling
of layered richness and sensuality</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Mandy Aftel<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">The word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">palimpsest</i> comes to us from Greek via
Latin; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">palin</i>, meaning again and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">psēstos</i>, rubbed smooth. In the middle
ages manuscripts, parchment, vellum etc were immensely valuable, time-consuming
and costly to fabricate, involving the repeated straining of various pulped
plant fibres into fine layers, dried, ground smooth and treated with various
gums and unguents. Papermaking was an art form. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Today’s throwaway
culture would have had no place in medieval monasteries, courts and
apothecaries. If pages were to be used again, the texts and any illumination
and inking would be carefully scraped or washed off until the pages could be
realistically used again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course,
traces and shadows of the previous words and imagery might linger, remaining
defiantly ghostlike under new prayers, gospels, edicts, tithes, laws and
recipes, thus creating the palimpsest. In other cases the church would order
Christian texts to be overwritten onto what it considered be pagan or
blasphemous writings, thus rendering the words cleansed and sanctified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUuL2GKBoxLGQwYsHaxDa9uNCU9KlOoEDyLnWQmT7Pk0HjAt0rdF16XbhyphenhyphenAOycGIcnkmOwO8KkTIMuwI2KDN4BX89gZAQH6FxsImJY8x2K5VPr7qBkmeRxM35OiSLfw9b9GHWl13iSBRA/s1600/aftelierlayered2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUuL2GKBoxLGQwYsHaxDa9uNCU9KlOoEDyLnWQmT7Pk0HjAt0rdF16XbhyphenhyphenAOycGIcnkmOwO8KkTIMuwI2KDN4BX89gZAQH6FxsImJY8x2K5VPr7qBkmeRxM35OiSLfw9b9GHWl13iSBRA/s320/aftelierlayered2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">prepping...notes...<br />Image ©TSF</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">I have always
considered a life of scent an act of palimpsest. As with the discussions on the
merits of pop music and classic repertoires, jazz and opera, some might argue
that in terms of memory that scent should be stunning, iconic and classic. This
is rubbish, people always want to be thought of as better educated, more
stylish, more esoteric; that’s why given time to think they tend to edit and
curate their favourite books, movies, designers, songs etc to give the world an
outward appearance of erudition and oddity. Essentially it is one-upmanship and
covert snobbery. The bulk of our most immediate memory triggers are populist in
tone or directly connected to family and lovers. This applies equally to scent;
first perfumes bought (we are not all led by plush bourgeois mothers to
Guerlain counters…), spritzing in department store beauty halls, the smell of
kissing crushes, wearing a lover’s scent, break up scent. All these things
layered on our skin, replaced and veiled, remain in our memory, carefully
stored, the odours mingling in the shadows of time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">During this last
year of illness and on-going recovery, I have become increasingly enamoured
with natural perfumery and the complex aroma-therapeutic effects on my spirit
and senses, it is these emotive essences, oils and recipes that for me embody
the palimpsest ideal. They seem to suggest an arcane awareness of things done
and things to come; connecting to sky, water, flesh and being alive. And that
it is undeniably, profoundly moving. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Mandy’s background
steeped in honest self-regard, fearless accumulation of knowledge, weaving,
collecting natural ingredients to dye her own threads, in essence, imparting
herself in processes. This allied with her training as a therapist has enriched
her ability to understand our studious, recondite intellect who has achieved a
very particular sense of personal status and worth by understanding the
lessons, words and fugitive layers of the past. If you read her books and I
urge you to do so, you will realise how connected she is to flesh, spirit and
mind and our place in this increasingly fucked up surreal world. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">She does not shy
away from sex and its pungent moreishness and the role that odour and perfumery
play in the carnal dance of desire. We are all too aware, whether we like to
admit it or not of a certain lascivious fleshly palimpsest, an underpinning of
phantom depravity, ghostly sex acts, loving, random, brutal, desired, desperate
and craved, played out on beds of stained, reeking sheets that rock with
laughter and grappled love. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Over this is written
the alchemy of Mandy Aftel, never forget this is what she does, transmuting
memory, essence into experience. Her received and practiced knowledge; handling
and illuminated biographies of materials are exquisite. She instinctively
comprehends the syncs, loops, shifts, nuances and seasons of her palette. Dilution,
mood, profanity, sensuality and behaviour; all instinctually calibrated. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">When Mandy
originally contacted me and asked me to choose samples she could send me I knew
the ones I wanted alongside her latest wonder, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Amber Tapestry</i>, a hymn to her love of time spent among woven
threads and chthonic yarns. I chose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cocoa</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanilla Smoke</i> to complete my
quartet with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Palimpsest</i>. I have worn
Cè<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pes and Tuberose </i>in the past and
the haunting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cuir Gardenia</i>, a perfume
that really obsessed me when I discovered it. It felt like Mandy was
hybridizing flora and creating sci-fi petals and brave new stems. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XTSeJFUIHVSYA0Xn1HAaBNY2E9MHMNCK3uz_Pfsf_QN7xelZ8qLm9H7W4CI7GsPAVVGobrWj-JXJpVKxwjIz2keXlcy_9Wve0Yv6GK_j-bS1X-2xu8tqQt30D5bFISgS0GvPV1OaJhk/s1600/MACocoa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_XTSeJFUIHVSYA0Xn1HAaBNY2E9MHMNCK3uz_Pfsf_QN7xelZ8qLm9H7W4CI7GsPAVVGobrWj-JXJpVKxwjIz2keXlcy_9Wve0Yv6GK_j-bS1X-2xu8tqQt30D5bFISgS0GvPV1OaJhk/s320/MACocoa.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">cocoa montage... Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">In a now distant and
bitter job, I needed cocoa bean nibs.. to be honest I can’t quite remember what
for now.. I think it was to tincture gin for cocktails. My friend Ali Gower
runs the Chocolate Tree, one of the few certified bean to bar chocolatier
enterprises in the country. He travels to South America and the West Indies to
source his cocoa beans, importing them to roast and grind at his wonderful set
up outside Edinburgh. Ali dropped off a bag of shucked and shattered cocoa bean
nibs and I opened the bag… OMG, the scent was astonishing. Sweet earth and
jungle dust, an arid booze aroma poured over torn, splintered woods. Not chocolate
as such but the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">roots</i> of chocolate,
mucky and moreish. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHK4dPmUTnmfrsj0aNaEDb-ILGbdaApMNV7dp-b1SGMYWu5qh7aXuwhGIOK-NVigs8TaPAgnbnscZEWrRYrNFbSKgtzZQAd3KMfUXYdnjJYJmgGDgpTrlbEJ6S5uqfQq15_0QvibIcV2I/s1600/cocoa+nibs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHK4dPmUTnmfrsj0aNaEDb-ILGbdaApMNV7dp-b1SGMYWu5qh7aXuwhGIOK-NVigs8TaPAgnbnscZEWrRYrNFbSKgtzZQAd3KMfUXYdnjJYJmgGDgpTrlbEJ6S5uqfQq15_0QvibIcV2I/s320/cocoa+nibs.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Cocoa nibs... (image ©TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">Mandy created her
own chocolate alcohol for the indulgent and distinctive base of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cocoa</i>, tincturing organic Costa Rican
cocoa beans with high-grade Tahitian vanilla. Now I love my chocolate scents,
the Foxy collection has quite a few, like the stuff itself, some sweet and
milky, others darker, mulchier. The best for me are Pierre Guillaume’s creamy
bold <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Musc Maori</i>, Sarah McCartney and
4160 Tuesday’s limited edition <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Over The
Chocolate Shop</i>, smooth and oozing with warm comforting choccy fumes and
hazelnut. Mandy’s has more in common I think with Il Profumo’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chocolate Amère</i>, which mixes nutmeg,
ginger and a thrilling swoosh of galbanum around the bitter cocoa core.
Ultimately Mandy’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cocoa</i> is on its
own, her handling of what could have been a difficult and generic theme is
transformed by the halo of chocolate and vanilla thrilled alcohol base.
Interestingly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cocoa</i> is strictly
speaking a jasmine perfume, a swooning marriage of both grandiflorum and sambac
blooms offset by the sweeter citrus tones of pink grapefruit and a noticeable
dash of sanguineous blood orange at the top. This arrangement of white over
dark with sunrise glow across the opening moments is deeply addictive, swaying
between a sophisticated gourmand treat and something more complex, a sombre
inhalation of bitter caprice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJC2h8UFvCrO14Zh-2vP-k08Tw5fQSSONmh3ReCAsr3y2fVH3jNIda4Wn5rk1FAvutbix9OqZMm1XAgD_xpuz8nzfzG3lkEdj967wx70rcJj9OyfExykKEqbxgy0-J9XtxfClkSvvgBs/s1600/MAtapestry2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzJC2h8UFvCrO14Zh-2vP-k08Tw5fQSSONmh3ReCAsr3y2fVH3jNIda4Wn5rk1FAvutbix9OqZMm1XAgD_xpuz8nzfzG3lkEdj967wx70rcJj9OyfExykKEqbxgy0-J9XtxfClkSvvgBs/s400/MAtapestry2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Amber Tapestry montage with 1970s embroidered sleeve<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";">Amber Tapestry</span></i><span style="font-family: "courier new";"> is Mandy’s latest work and really very
special indeed, you can sense as soon as you smell it how personal this perfume
is, it radiates out of the materials with a retrospective thrumming aura. It
was odd having <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cocoa</i> in the same
collection as I felt smelling it alongside <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Amber
Tapestry</i> they seemed like subtle echoes of one another in the use of double
jasmine in their swelling hearts. This aurous glittering thing is about Mandy’s
past immersion in the hands-on world of dyeing, threading and weaving I
mentioned earlier; a tapestry of recollection and materials, stitched over and
under a huge emotive heart. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">The top has gauzy
heliotrope and sweet mandarin, avoiding any potential bitterness arising from more
traditional lemon/citron oils. That grandiflorum/sambac heart is augmented
interestingly with pear and cinnamon; these seem to add curve and gold-flecked
eau de vie to the body of this beautifully orchestrated scent. The base uses
the glistening charms of ambreine and caramelised maltol blended with coumarin,
castoreum and resins to fill in the heavier stitching and touches of contrast
to bring the composition to life. As with actual tapestry, a little time is
needed for the details to wed and the threads and colours to pull into focus. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Amber Tapestry</i> is exceptional perfumery,
something I think I will need to have in my collection; my skin seemed to come
alive in it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1meMGWfBQa3RItDqF8zOpvlWuV-FqOTozCFCk3-x75xCJHueWXRQrouLzKziaxnpE1zgsmpIqam_TtL6qCtC3UnPLmxiPq_JUt6fW1VuThKBQ0hS-fP23Cv5CZl3Lr_4DZU8VuE9f70/s1600/VanillaSmoke3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1meMGWfBQa3RItDqF8zOpvlWuV-FqOTozCFCk3-x75xCJHueWXRQrouLzKziaxnpE1zgsmpIqam_TtL6qCtC3UnPLmxiPq_JUt6fW1VuThKBQ0hS-fP23Cv5CZl3Lr_4DZU8VuE9f70/s400/VanillaSmoke3.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Vanilla Smoke montage<br />Image ©TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier new";">Vanilla Smoke</span></i><span style="font-family: "courier new";"> got amazing reviews when it launched and
quite rightly so. So many purported vanilla scents come and go it is hard to
keep track or even care anymore when the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vanilla</i> pops up in things. Even as a diehard vanilla lover, I
sometimes succumb to fatigue. I noted the launch and the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">smoke</i> and thought <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">must try</i>. I used to be very casual re vanilla scents, buying lots
of different ones, enjoying the variety from cakey patisserie fun and baby
powder softness to sensual sheath extract textures. But as time passed I have
become more ruthless in my expectations, wanting the vanilla in my perfumes to arouse
and transport me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">There are a few
perfumers who really understand the low feral anima of vanilla. One is Bertrand
Duchaufour whose <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanille Absolument</i> by
L’Artisan Parfumeur (originally entitled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Havane
Vanille</i>) was a signature scent for me for five or six years. Bertrand
soaked the Mexican vanilla pods in rum and this deep, booming booziness was
played off against a beautiful duet of narcissus absolute and smoky tonka in
the central section. All this rests meltingly on his lush, creamy vanilla.
Every batch I had, (sixteen bottles and counting)… smelled different, all
dependent of the harvest quality of narcissus, tonka and vanilla. L’Artisan
Parfumeur decided to axe the scent from the line up citing cost issues with the
raw materials. I obviously bought up bulk-discounted bottles, but the loss of
such an exemplary portrait of vanilla, riven with warm tobacco tones and the
contradictory sweet floral pornography of narcissus is immeasurable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">The other great
vanilla creatrix was Mona di Orio, her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanille</i>
from 2011 is part of the iconic Nombres d’Or collection, a gathering of perfect
and profoundly personal interpretations of classic perfumery tenets such as musk,
tuberose, oud, rose, vetiver and amber. They are among my most precious scents;
I wore Mona’s fragrances from very early on (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Carnation, Nuit Noire</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chamarré</i>)
and connected with her work in a visceral, emotional way. She was the same age
as me and her sudden death from surgical complications in December 2011
darkened my skies. After my own experiences in the last couple of years during
surgery I feel the need to wear her perfumes more and more. Her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanille</i> resembles Mandy’s in its
unorthodoxy, a defiantly discordant voyage of a drifting boat, loaded with
spices, oranges and bundles of burnished vanilla sheaths from island
plantations all lying on sun-hot timbers soaked in spilled rum. I’ve sampled
people with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanille</i> and they often
recoil from its audacious physical presence. Sometimes I think…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this vanilla is strange weather and I am
buffeted by its beauty</i>. It is a benchmark perfume, an elixir that many
other perfumers should sample and marvel at. As with so much in her work and
something she has in common with Mandy, Mona had trained repeatedly and
exhaustively with materials until she could capture the essence of something, reflecting
and refracting its beauty and oddity back through the prism of her own
experiences. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">It obvious to me,
obsessively wearing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanilla Smoke</i>
that Mandy Aftel is another one of the perfume world’s great vanilla
manipulators; you know by the particular feel of the Madagascan vanilla that
she doesn’t just settle for a any old vanilla absolute. Why would you? Like a
colour tone or lux of light, it is about the search for personal
interpretations of materials. The more time I have spent inhaling Mandy’s work
I have noticed the dedication to quality and charisma in her absolutes,
isolates and oils. She does of course sell some of these, they read like spells
and incantations; flouve and poplar bud, cepe, fir and ambreine, elemodor,
patchoulyl acetate, tobacco, mitti attar, vetiverol and the all important
vanilla. Everything created by Mandy is free from synthetics, parabens,
glycols, and petrochemicals but she will often many different variants of a
material before deciding which one is the right one for the olfactive task at
hand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">The vanilla absolute
in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanilla Smoke</i> is very rich and
chewy, with an oily, wood-panelled back-taste to it. Its beauty has been
dramatically enhanced by a blueish Lapsang Souchong note, the tea smoked over
pine needles. This has imparted a faint yet discernable terpenic nuance to the
mix, counterpointed by saffron and a lovely soft touch of yellow mandarin at
the top of the scent. The sensual joy of the perfume is to be found in the
glorious drawn out fade of the vanilla on your skin. There is a little touch of
vanillin in the formula, this seems to both stretch out and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">light</i> the absolute. It is well nigh on
impossible to stop smelling your skin while you are wearing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vanilla Smoke</i>, it really is. The ambrosial
dusk of the materials make the wearing moreish and sexy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_Q-dAt0CPH_VxhqwJQFFBmzoeHJGavvj-wDLBx-a8r4aJRiWCAFTwGP3DEznNNE6CU9n_FyEC-7NPl8oXxFlazp4SfaXCVYUD_3fsEjrRie43JjY53YsT-tKChM6xZDaQRa-o4LRDUI/s1600/Mandy1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf_Q-dAt0CPH_VxhqwJQFFBmzoeHJGavvj-wDLBx-a8r4aJRiWCAFTwGP3DEznNNE6CU9n_FyEC-7NPl8oXxFlazp4SfaXCVYUD_3fsEjrRie43JjY53YsT-tKChM6xZDaQRa-o4LRDUI/s320/Mandy1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Mandy Aftel<br />(original image Aya Brackett)<br />(Jasmine palimpsest TSF)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">I knew as soon as I
smelled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Palimpsest</i> it was something
extraordinary, a perfume that would alter me, mark me and add another detailed
layer to my olfactory experience. I was honestly quite moved when I wore it for
the first time and that flickering frisson has never left me. I will wear it as
long as I can obtain it.. and then when it is gone, I will have the memory of
it laid down under something new. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">It wears so
beautifully as time passes, the notes rising and falling like muted music in
distant rooms. The lush private indolic jasmine and ylang hung with peach
gauze, Mandy’s velveteen fumed vanilla swelled by the civetty radiance of the Phenylacetic
acid. This wonderful stuff leaves it own mark, an ephemeral narcissus aroma as
it works its magic on the other notes. It took me a while to notice it, but
it’s there in the spaces, verdant and smeared, just suggested enough. Despite
the graceful harmony of composition, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Palimpsest</i>
glows with Mandy’s precious Firetree essence, it is the acutely satisfying
heart of an affective singular perfume. It’s own intriguing strata of tainted
floral ambience, oudy pall and milky leather make it ambiguous and universal,
blending beautifully with the other materials and yet still retaining a force
of character that demonstrates both its oddity and Mandy’s expert handling of
the original essence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">In its elegant final
flourish of warm magnificence, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Palimpsest</i>
seems to echo the blaze of Firetree blooms under an Australian sunset. Skin
smells loved, manifold and if you look closely you will see my loves and lives
written there upon my body in layers of redolent prose.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>For more information
on Aftelier Perfumes, Cook’s Essences© and perfumer’s materials, please click
on the link below:</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.aftelier.com/"><span style="color: #666666;"><i>Aftelier Perfumes</i></span></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><o:p><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666;"><i>Disclosure – samples very kindly sent by Aftelier Perfumes. Thank you Mandy. Opinions and interpretations very much my own.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new";"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;">©TheSilverFox
January 2017</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-47371453393125677032017-01-09T21:53:00.000+00:002017-02-02T14:08:52.547+00:00Conflation of Influence & Desire: The House of Nishane <span style="color: #666666;"><br></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIGMUk95tGnEGPcVrl35uhn37aC4jGG8LUzKtWV5yE_HIzIQhYKYZvUIOg7qjw2IcppyPameoLEql-gzKJIQwAcZO5naAwt_XJD4hsG4pIPRYJ7rLtCVGON0FUHU9u3j7cjGjP8YTGP9Y/s1600/cover2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #666666;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIGMUk95tGnEGPcVrl35uhn37aC4jGG8LUzKtWV5yE_HIzIQhYKYZvUIOg7qjw2IcppyPameoLEql-gzKJIQwAcZO5naAwt_XJD4hsG4pIPRYJ7rLtCVGON0FUHU9u3j7cjGjP8YTGP9Y/s400/cover2.JPG" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Gülü seven dikenine katlanır.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">(Who loves a rose will endure the thorns)<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Turkish proverb<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Istanbul is a
layered, complex transcontinental city, bridging Europe and Africa over the
iconic Bosphorus Strait. Previously known as Byzantium and Constantinople this
vital extraordinary metropolis is in many ways a historical palimpsest with
culture upon culture, faith upon faith conquering, erasing, rewriting and
adapting what had come before. Roman, Genoese, Byzantium, Ottoman and Islamic
structures stud the city like exquisite emotive pins. As you walk, strata of
histories are buried under your feet but also scattered across the city in
ruined fragments of the faiths and civilisations that have been built high and
low across this complicated and urgent metropolis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Two huge suspension
bridges, The Bosphorus Bridge and the Fatih Memmet Sultan Bridge span the
strait, linking the European and Asian facets of Istanbul. A third suspension
bridge, the controversial Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge opened in summer 2016, with
four thundering motorway lanes and a rail line. The fertile political,
religious, geographical and cultural symbolism of Istanbul has echoed down
through the centuries and continues to do so, making it a city with
far-reaching and emotive resonances. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFeCiQJN8D5gy_lXnABW7Rvbb5QiJb8RNXzQVPyzPoG7kwnIxDz4Lh0JBCTpZnhqNJiQjwO-OuZNkwHLT1ZIHMiO0RJxAqfjeNUGCKUtkiGjdsptpPjfIO80W243qN08eQbb6oVpPS8gA/s1600/bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFeCiQJN8D5gy_lXnABW7Rvbb5QiJb8RNXzQVPyzPoG7kwnIxDz4Lh0JBCTpZnhqNJiQjwO-OuZNkwHLT1ZIHMiO0RJxAqfjeNUGCKUtkiGjdsptpPjfIO80W243qN08eQbb6oVpPS8gA/s320/bridge.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #666666;">The opening of the <br>Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge</span></span></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This whole emblematic
concept of linkage, erasure, absorption, borrowing, adaptation and influences
is something of fundamental importance to bear in mind when it comes to the
House of Nishane, a lavish new line of eighteen new extrait strength perfumes
from two Istanbulites Mert Güzel and Murat Katran. The fragrances reflect this
vibrancy and eclecticism, journeying across the city and its quartiers in their
olfactive referencing. Echoes of the spice trades, Silk Road, tanneries, Grand
Bazaar, markets, waterways, busy Bosphorus, ornate gardens, cuisine, music,
art, exploration, conquerors and faith. All these elements are threaded through
the elegant and pungent tapestry of scented suggestion woven by Mert, Murat and
perfumers Jorge Lee and Sylvain Cara.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2017/01/conflation-of-influence-desire-house-of.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-8827327122263193002016-12-20T21:11:00.000+00:002017-01-01T13:11:27.003+00:00Dark Christmas: 'Sheiduna' by Puredistance<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsQihg-edN0ahqKvjOlsZm1eFsWyOARzxMqmdOfzWityQp7HHHE7DVnRBIbuKrk2BQA057IHAcwbteHHk8CsXTgPvOROloctMhxggiZwRNOA2jhh8Bk1T5AQ3U2Xz7BBkwC5SZ9YU6XE/s1600/She2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsQihg-edN0ahqKvjOlsZm1eFsWyOARzxMqmdOfzWityQp7HHHE7DVnRBIbuKrk2BQA057IHAcwbteHHk8CsXTgPvOROloctMhxggiZwRNOA2jhh8Bk1T5AQ3U2Xz7BBkwC5SZ9YU6XE/s320/She2.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">To perceive Christmas through its wrappings
becomes more difficult with every year</i>.’ E.B. White (1899-1985)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A lot of words have
been tumbled over social media pages, blogs and magazines about Jan Ewoud Vos’
luxurious and singular Puredistance Master Perfumes, dreamt up in 2002 and
launched in 2008 with the appearance of </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Puredistance
1</i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> created by Firmenich master perfumer Annie Buzantian who was awarded
Perfumer of the Year in 2015 by The Fragrance Foundation. Since that auspicious
and striking debut Jan and his carefully assembled coterie of talented
perfumers have collaborated on a further five uniquely streamlined and glossy
compositions: </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Antonia </i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">and</span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> Opardu </i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">also by Annie Buzantian</span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">, Black and White </i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">by Antoine Lie</span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> and M </i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">by Roja Dove. Now in 2016 we have
the heavily trailed atmospheric and oddly melancholic </span><i style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Sheiduna</i><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">, the first overtly oriental perfume from Puredistance
created with creatrice extraordinaire Cécile Zarokian, one of the most talented
perfumers working in contemporary olfaction today.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlGAbn9V4wctoTHp3bJn-m72GGyWv-ZewRjEcub_mnvvW9nFvl4rTqZAR_qDS_Q8DPSNlvCDj6jxB3jPQgo9IGapDV352XnMG7R7FiDUnMJ-16_1u9SOR8b3icc6YucnB6RdM4FLXa-g/s1600/PD+perfumers+x+3+a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlGAbn9V4wctoTHp3bJn-m72GGyWv-ZewRjEcub_mnvvW9nFvl4rTqZAR_qDS_Q8DPSNlvCDj6jxB3jPQgo9IGapDV352XnMG7R7FiDUnMJ-16_1u9SOR8b3icc6YucnB6RdM4FLXa-g/s320/PD+perfumers+x+3+a.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">L-R Roja Dove, Antoine Lie <br />& Annie Buzantian </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It’s no secret I’m a
huge admirer of her work as anyone who follows my writing will know and my Foxy
collection boasts compositions like the sticky addictive aesthetics of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tango for </i>Masque Milano<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patchouliful,
</i>her glowing portrait of one of perfumery’s iconic materials for one of<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>my favourite houses Laboratorio
Olfattivo. Cécile had already created <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kashnoir</i>
for Robert Drago’s beautiful and underrated line, a scent of tremendous
vibrancy, with notes of powdered wood, white flowers and a delicious balsamic
base that draws out an expertly handled vanilla and heliotrope duet. But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Patchouliful</i> demonstrated you could take
a familiar material and just completely dazzle the senses with the result, showing
us things we knew we loved - spiced clovey-leathered warmth but married to a
frangipani and iris vellum that made you rethink how patchouli should smell on
skin. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nerotic</i>, her new composition
for Laboratorio Olfattivo has just launched and I’m really looking forward to
adding it to my collection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHx8SAQ9k4zUxUc0jd3tO5dgqmPwNNkXuhxgTGjx21lP3oDP7qRhNG1LmMiGC_C5GwFCXcYULlXP2nCkERC22eLhVaIkh-qBf0d3MQ2te7yWEhk5i4IH0Btk3bqeMRehN4_BOLGgu6TeA/s1600/SilkRoads1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHx8SAQ9k4zUxUc0jd3tO5dgqmPwNNkXuhxgTGjx21lP3oDP7qRhNG1LmMiGC_C5GwFCXcYULlXP2nCkERC22eLhVaIkh-qBf0d3MQ2te7yWEhk5i4IH0Btk3bqeMRehN4_BOLGgu6TeA/s320/SilkRoads1.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's MDCI Silk Road Trio..</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(with thanks to MC @ Cafleurebon </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">& Claude Marchal @ MDCI)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I think <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Les Indes Galantes, Les Fêtes Persanes </i>and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Cio-Cio San</i> the Silk Road inspired
triptych for Parfums MDCI, are among her finest work to date. There is an
exceptional earlier MDCI work called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La
Nuit</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Andalouse</i> from 2013 that Cécile
created for Claude Marchal, around a tremulous gardenia note that demands
attention like a quiet yet insistent lover. Working with gardenia can be
fraught. Too little, the effect is pointless and the delicacy drowns amid its
surrounding aromatic arrangements; too much and the composition is a wall of
white noise, with barely a flicker of anything else. Abstraction and creative
suggestion are fine, but the materials must be of the most exquisite quality
and provenance. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Nuit Andalouse</i>
uses two keynotes alongside the gardenia to empower its reality and in some
ways it’s mythology. Violet suggests a powdered sweet soul and orange blossom
references the Andalucían heritage Cécile wraps over the roses, ylang, musks
and soft woody fade. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq0M0zklcA4qB5E7taiHQ8Fi_QGacMy-UqBINKT3XxlC5lfyJXmRGYBUp8lUqWeJrU0gEgbOE0OtV4Y-nuWSZci3kbWmQg4RFmQ8ffkXbmGc0HEowhuEkHpJvDRgj7jTaCQpKtYETVIE/s1600/Puredistance-Perfumer-Cecile-Zarokian-01-HR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtq0M0zklcA4qB5E7taiHQ8Fi_QGacMy-UqBINKT3XxlC5lfyJXmRGYBUp8lUqWeJrU0gEgbOE0OtV4Y-nuWSZci3kbWmQg4RFmQ8ffkXbmGc0HEowhuEkHpJvDRgj7jTaCQpKtYETVIE/s320/Puredistance-Perfumer-Cecile-Zarokian-01-HR.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Cécile Zarokian<br />(image courtesy of Puredistance)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The Silk Road trilogy
fragrances are all linked by music, opera to be more precise. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cio-Cio San</i> by Puccini’s tragic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Madama</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Butterfly</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Les Indes
Galantes</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Les Fêtes Persanes </i>by
Jean-Philippe Rameau’s ballet-héroique with songs. I reviewed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cio-Cio San</i> for the Foxy blog and for
Cafleurebon, followed by the other two for Cafleurebon as well. They were
elegant and inspiring perfumes to write on, the marriage of music, oriental
perfumery and operatic drama. Cécile’s skilful interpretation of the briefs for
Claude’s atmospheric house created miniature worlds that transport the mind. I
wear this triptych over and over, losing myself in the journeys and luxurious
shelter of the formulae. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Fath's Essentials</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When I was writing
my piece on Cécile’s wise reworking of Jacques Fath’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Green Water</i> and the creation of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bel
Ambre</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vers le Sud</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Curacao Bay</i> with Panouge I was aware she
working with Puredistance and was intrigued to see how her style of perfumery
would marry to the controlled haute-luxe of Jan Ewoud Vos’ house. Along with
Luca Maffei, Delphine Thierry, Amélie Bourgeois, Quentin Bisch, Julien
Rasquinet, Cristiano Canali, Anne-Sophie Behaghel, Dora Baghdriche, Thomas
Fontaine, Marie Salamagne and Amandine Marie she is part of a gloriously
talented generation of young perfumers unfettered and untroubled by the
hitherto punitively perceived IFRA regulations. They have trained with and
within their recommendations and annual adjustments, creating innovative work
that meets the challenges set down by restrictions or guidelines depending on
how you view them. Their influence across global niche, luxury and mainstream
perfumery is hugely important. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I have sampled
Puredistance a few times over the years and will be honest; it is a brand that didn’t
catch my senses to any great degree, however I always take time to revisit and
re-evaluate perfumes when I write. Also illness in recent years has rewired my
perceptions and altered my reactions to a lot of work; perfumes and styles I
loved, I can no longer stomach and others I found challenging or perhaps
dismissed as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not me</i>, I now find
rather emotional and sublime. A Paris-based friend sent me decants of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M</i>, he’s a leather fiend and included <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">White</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Puredistance 1</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JiJIwua2AWjgs5beCnyHtnWZ50TV-T0IIo5NyRD1Am2TUj7EjYns2-Yi_YiPYCxpLZ3f03MKoQaVnFameBsMsU2q1mm7BbVk916c5iBFSdkG34z0WYDf30sRXnAik1PYBnGzRmDVSOg/s1600/PD6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JiJIwua2AWjgs5beCnyHtnWZ50TV-T0IIo5NyRD1Am2TUj7EjYns2-Yi_YiPYCxpLZ3f03MKoQaVnFameBsMsU2q1mm7BbVk916c5iBFSdkG34z0WYDf30sRXnAik1PYBnGzRmDVSOg/s320/PD6.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's Sheiduna atomiser & factice</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Puredistance is a
strange brand, a tad schizophrenic in its melange of influences and messages,
but undeniably luxurious and openly ambitious in terms of its creative and
olfactive beckoning. Jan and his gifted team have worked with perception and
dedication to create a perfume house that smells opulent and privately sensual,
which is no mean feat in this day and age of gaudy excessive BUY ME offerings. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Jan collaborated with
London-based Roja Dove on the purring, automotive leather <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M</i> and French animal-synth master Antoine Lie on the galactic opaque
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black</i> and its creamy spacious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">White</i> counterpart. I rather like the rich
aloofness of Puredistance, the slightly disdainful chilly jet set feel layered
into the ruthless marketing of the name, perfumes and direction. There is
something a little uneasy and unfocussed in the marketing as a whole; the differing
campaigns don’t quite pull together, creating dissonance in the overall
ambiance of an otherwise ambitious and persuasive mix. It has a distinctly European
feel, with touches of Micellef, The Different Company, Tizania Terenzi and
Jovoy. There is I think an aspiration to sit alongside the modern aromatic
iconography of Mona di Orio but Puredistance doesn’t quite nail the same plush
and understated savoir-faire. To be fair, hardly anyone does. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">BUT</i> and it’s a big but, there is no
denying the bravura quality and sleek sinuous elegance of some of the perfumes
that have appeared under the Puredistance name. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I’m not the biggest
Roja Dove fan, the gaudiness and relentless clarion call to certain markets is
wearisome to say the least. Consultant, historian and scent designer perhaps
and talented one at that but perfumer? Anyway, that aside, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M</i> is an elegantly smoky and seductive leather chypré, inspired by
the luxurious pelty cocoon of a classic Aston Martin. It is an excellent leather;
Roja rarely creates outside of his own line and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">M</i> is a scent of exclusive indulgence with a tangy animalic bite
amid the ambered spices and swirl of moss, cistus, exquisite rose (It is a note
utilised extremely well throughout his own line) and illuminated citric-tinted vanilla.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQy5UekD0ShBvMf1XffXb6GS41RHlnqQQLTJGHU8qPOqOWZjcY6EQec1WR_Y77cNMToXXCXKfUbnICbrZgWX7Oqu_3bY-l_sTrzwAY9F0y3IbR2dfTRyBKjQTLY8GL6U-vbDLdfXFY18/s320/PD+b%2526w.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(images courtesy of Puredistance)</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCQy5UekD0ShBvMf1XffXb6GS41RHlnqQQLTJGHU8qPOqOWZjcY6EQec1WR_Y77cNMToXXCXKfUbnICbrZgWX7Oqu_3bY-l_sTrzwAY9F0y3IbR2dfTRyBKjQTLY8GL6U-vbDLdfXFY18/s1600/PD+b%2526w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In keeping with the
void of advertised noir and darkness, there are no materials listed for the
composition of Antoine Lie’s bleak high-gloss hybrid </span><i style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Black</i><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">. It is undoubtedly a sleek and striking composition, marrying
Lie’s perfumed enfant terrible persona with a more cinematic haute olfactive
slant. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Black (cut) TSF 2015</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It’s like looking at a black canvas in a dimly lit room, thinking at
first it is simply a square of black paint hanging alone in a room. However the
longer you look at it as the shadows settle in the room and your eyes adjust to
the gloom the black reveals hidden layers, striations, whorls, tiny gaps and
shadows. No one does this olfactive black within black like Lie. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">White (wing) 2015 TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">White</i> is the angelic mirror, perfumed
wings of white musks catching odd fractured light. It isn’t quite as interesting;
although wearing the two together was fascinating, like experiencing a time
lapse night and day roll over skin, shadow, light and fade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Now we have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i>, the first overtly classically
oriental perfume from Puredistance, the name a bizarre amalgam of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she, sheikha</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dune</i>, words that coalesced, echoing the cadence of the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seduction</i> for Jan Ewoud Vos. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLgGAIgMvlRGdFzdmg3xQDeJ93LZyJeWxABMRh1x6wk4zKA9J5WFEv5KOfCb-wGuA0vtflppi2U2WShz1fWI2fxax7uKTRv7crMJNM0iE0WtmHlbAnYiun3sXFoloqc9dvjAA6fG1veA/s1600/Original-notes-by-Cecile-for-Sheiduna-01-HR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLgGAIgMvlRGdFzdmg3xQDeJ93LZyJeWxABMRh1x6wk4zKA9J5WFEv5KOfCb-wGuA0vtflppi2U2WShz1fWI2fxax7uKTRv7crMJNM0iE0WtmHlbAnYiun3sXFoloqc9dvjAA6fG1veA/s320/Original-notes-by-Cecile-for-Sheiduna-01-HR.jpg" width="226" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Some of Cécile's original <br />Sheiduna notes.. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(image courtesy of Puredistance)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The
collaborative process is something Puredistance are keen to emphasise
throughout their social media and PR material; even the bottles are accompanied
by jointly signed postcards of the duo. The provenance and process matters a
LOT to Puredistance, not so much to me, they will live and die by their juice.
Often a tightly controlled collaborative process, while seemingly calm, can
hinder creativity. Cécile is a remarkable and adaptive perfumer however;
capable of working in a multitude of ways and working with Jan seems to have
been a wonderfully fertile and rewarding experience. The warmth of the
partnership glows out of the PR materials and associated social media launch
material. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0z0rTc9JORIHBDCOHCvp7bs8CTiqz51TGY13cVcGsdiXJDHWmziTkOrhH8K3qhEY450EVMxWOnegGjUibcYoU6SL_ViYY4An2bdcdmDyRL2kZcRP1MxvwLsxOblMPZGcR1nduetygrqw/s1600/jan+and+cecile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0z0rTc9JORIHBDCOHCvp7bs8CTiqz51TGY13cVcGsdiXJDHWmziTkOrhH8K3qhEY450EVMxWOnegGjUibcYoU6SL_ViYY4An2bdcdmDyRL2kZcRP1MxvwLsxOblMPZGcR1nduetygrqw/s320/jan+and+cecile.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Jan & Cécile..</span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">(image courtesy of Puredistance)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> is being marketed in tones of burnished gold and glowing sunset
reds to reflect the mood of undulating desert dunes under a glowering sun, in
turn echoing the sensuous curves of the eternally worshipped female form. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCtXmdPkNhdSkI319eF1SKDo6CJWrT40zR592SSsb-JjvvWA4k8tV9BBl47UgjOtXf6a5Rn5vHaR0fNq9eL3B_0L80sxZTUunWoEWO0EpJ_cb9T7VCB8cirrnO0k0YdQyGJxyozCThN0/s1600/Puredistance-07-SHEIDUNA-Perfume-00-HR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCtXmdPkNhdSkI319eF1SKDo6CJWrT40zR592SSsb-JjvvWA4k8tV9BBl47UgjOtXf6a5Rn5vHaR0fNq9eL3B_0L80sxZTUunWoEWO0EpJ_cb9T7VCB8cirrnO0k0YdQyGJxyozCThN0/s320/Puredistance-07-SHEIDUNA-Perfume-00-HR.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sheiduna<br />(image courtesy of Puredistance)</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This
fantasy of a desert dream is elegant and easy to sell but doesn’t feel quite
right to the Foxy senses; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> is
much more complex than a simple linear twilight narrative. There is darkness,
void and shadow at play amid the exquisitely manipulated <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">haute qualité</i> materials that Cécile has used. As my Scottish city
of stone and ghosts plunges past autumn into the depths of winter, Christmas
looms in all its overwhelming shopping overkill and illuminating brittle intransience.
Having worked for in retail for so long, Christmas has long since lost any of
its allure, reduced purely to monetary transactions and the human obsession
with material possession and one-upmanship. I now find this time of the year
rather distressing and desolate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">However, one of the
oddly neglected facets of Christmas is the scent of its collected elements and
how many of us <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">smell</i> the season as we
grow up and away from our families in different parts of the world. I was
immediately beguiled by the distinctive olfactive shadows of December, of dark
Christmas, the spaces in-between the joy and frivolity of this most divisive of
seasons. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLmwDm0GfVDCYuPIj3MPFAOJhiTwlMCXniODqzpfYlMzqmmJF1y0d28hQDHyMpicaUo1mvxwkXb_XWeZ_hFvg2-d-7pIDmcI1UZJgj4blW4OtE7vt4q1IfpxBLy0IcJDeeeIvS7azbeSM/s1600/IMG_8575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLmwDm0GfVDCYuPIj3MPFAOJhiTwlMCXniODqzpfYlMzqmmJF1y0d28hQDHyMpicaUo1mvxwkXb_XWeZ_hFvg2-d-7pIDmcI1UZJgj4blW4OtE7vt4q1IfpxBLy0IcJDeeeIvS7azbeSM/s320/IMG_8575.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Dark Tree...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The tradition aromatic tropes of Western Christmas celebrations are
very sensual and symbolic: spices such as cinnamon, clove and ginger mingling
with fumy incense, myrrh, poignant rooms filling with the genuflection of pine
trees, the vanilla and creamy float of Christmas desserts, and reassuring glow
and bouquet of a door-pinned hand-crafted wreath. Most of all that instantly
nostalgic inhalation of freshly punctured and disrobed tangerines and
clementines, those seemingly most winter of citrus fruits. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Wherever you are
from and however you celebrate and of course many people don’t for religious or
personal reasons, this period of the year will have uniquely different
olfactive tones. It is the only time of the year I eat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">panettone</i> and the scent of sweet, chewy bread, studded with shards
of dried citrus and sticky rum soaked raisins <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i> triggers Christmas thoughts. The peaty, throaty inhalation
of Islay malts was something very particular to my cold Scottish Christmas
days, a dram swirled around a jewel-cut snifter or set aflame over the
home-made boozy earth coloured pudding. When I visited Brittany to spend
Christmas with my partner’s family, the Christmas meal was traditionally
started with a towering salver of fresh oysters, glistening on a bed of
seaweed. This saline scent, potent with iodine and a rush of boat and harbour
mixed with the huge shout of piled lemons and crayfish was a very different
array of holiday aromas from what I was used to, but just different, brighter,
fresher. An antidote in many ways to the heavier style of repasts we are
traditionally conditioned to consuming in the UK. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-7UxK6Ge9c5z9TmLNc2tdZIEWGrO3lEqb0yB43sSPYLx_AQ99NMpIuXlxficYXzLIaZ0Yr9wQrNxFMo6zDJ6SdzwSq92yEgrLXSd9cDTqtdzqLXw5f-Dos7-Yw3e_P1WaxRNtMyVBFc/s1600/FullSizeRender-42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-7UxK6Ge9c5z9TmLNc2tdZIEWGrO3lEqb0yB43sSPYLx_AQ99NMpIuXlxficYXzLIaZ0Yr9wQrNxFMo6zDJ6SdzwSq92yEgrLXSd9cDTqtdzqLXw5f-Dos7-Yw3e_P1WaxRNtMyVBFc/s320/FullSizeRender-42.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Flame on...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">For me <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> is quite removed from the
sensual oriental fantasy of dunes and body-form enticement much as I appreciate
its purpose and reason. Of course a launch needs a marketing visualisation and
it is clear from glimpses of Jan’s notes and mood collages to Cécile that this
was very much how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> was perceived
as the creation of the scent progressed. But inevitably when you send your
olfactive child out into the critical world, it will be received in different
ways. Such is the way of scent. You can suggest mood and ambience but at the
end of the day, it is up to the wearer to interpret the notes in their own way and
for their skin to assimilate the composition and radiate their own aromatic
weather. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As soon as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> hit my skin, it fractured into
a kaleidoscopic assemblage of effects with textured and refined impact; I could
feel the quality of materials and chromatics of olfaction, the low key way the
notes and chords had been combined to produce a scent of emotive suggestion. As
with some of the other Puredistance perfumes, it takes a couple of wearings to
fully appreciate the way the work has been created. They are well-honed blends.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> is a concentrated extrait,
made for Puredistance by Stephid, a company based near Paris. It prides itself
on using quality ingredients and extensive testing, which can take up to three
months, ensuring luxury, high end and perfectly IFRA compliant formulae. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Cécile is not a
perfumer to rest on her laurels or repeat her herself, which is remarkable
considering how much work she is doing just now. A signature style is not the
same as repetition. Having a certain trademark impression or ambience to your
work is indication of personality and the ability to mould materials to your
will. Certain ingredients, flowers, spices, aromamolecules might become
leitmotifs but it is the instantaneous <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feel</i>
of a scent, its settling and glorious rise to the senses and emotional brain
that really marks out a truly talented creator. In her work to date Cécile has
written out on the vellum of our collective skins a signature of delicate and
sophisticated yearning; fusing frissons of yesteryear with the courageous
sensuality of modernity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXctN1EPViWZov8y3vzl3JnMKF6OFG4Lk-gmzmon_ewRlAj5X6pxLe0X23sexhvXkoWFHvkX-9PZjP3mVeQWolU2rmkv5b4uuCb-02qs_294H28PG8bkzej0PvincxPJKdYjsG6thO8E/s1600/JEV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifXctN1EPViWZov8y3vzl3JnMKF6OFG4Lk-gmzmon_ewRlAj5X6pxLe0X23sexhvXkoWFHvkX-9PZjP3mVeQWolU2rmkv5b4uuCb-02qs_294H28PG8bkzej0PvincxPJKdYjsG6thO8E/s320/JEV.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jan Edwoud Vos of Puredistance</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">One of the things I
admire so much about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> is the
strange disparity between the deluxe offering of the perfume and for me the
eccentric tableau that unfolds as the notes develop. I just find it so hard to
avoid the Christmas aromas, the blasts of spicy sparkling citrus at the top,
laced with an incredible smoky vanilla that reeks of myriad brulée desserts. The
incense resinoid, myrrh and patchouli lend that incalculable air of drifting
churches, millennial altars, sacrifice, mourning and celebration. Sleek
verdigris vetiver and odiferous geranium add a wistful essence of housebound
trees. Cécile has utilised that gorgeous ambergris infusion she used so
alluringly in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Green Water</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Curacao Bay </i>for Fath’s Originals. It has
a very particular blue waxen whispered aroma, gently saline, but also sweet and
kindly floral with a subtle wash of pale animal. As well as imparting such a
unique olfactive spoor, the infusion slows down the fade of the composition.
This matters with Orientals of this quality, you want the materials to mingle,
fuse and drift off the skin like so much scented smoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When you use
materials with such vivid realities you create a scent of lavish hue where the
odours meld to present a tableau of persuasive intelligence. The more time you
spend with Puredistance fragrances away from the suggested marketing images and
glossy PR launch stuff, you more you realise how unique and interesting the
perfumes are. I worry that the slight preoccupation with creating the
definitive luxury atmosphere to the house perhaps overshadows the juice a
little. But it’s a minor quibble. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I am aware that my
reading and biography of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> is
perhaps unconventional and even controversial. I am not stating it is simply a
Christmas scent; it isn’t, that would imply something more room-scenty, sweet,
cinnamon-soaked and perhaps injected with a sickly artificial accord of mulled
red wine and brandy. However my senses reacted to it in unexpected way; reading
the notes, press info and following the launch info from Esxence had created in
my mind an expectation of a golden, burnished not exactly standard (it is
Cécile after all) perfume with polished oriental markers such as a dominant
amber note, warm woods such as sandalwood mixed with exotic resins and tactile
balms. There is an associative expectation to this beloved family and very
adroitly Jan and Cécile have cleverly met and sidestepped these presumptions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is unexpectedly bravura
formulation. Cécile has studied the oriental form and obviously worked with Jan
and his words and vision for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i>.
Then she has carefully deconstructed and reformed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> version of an oriental, taking some of the key elements, mostly
the resinous, balsamic pieces and the all important amber and woven some more
unexpected and exceptionally high quality notions into the framework. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The key is quality.
The ambergris infusion has been married to beautifully calibrated measurements
of molecules such as amberXtreme and ambroxan. Over these the benzoin, tonka
absolute and luscious vanilla absolute are exalted into beautiful focus by the
relatively odd addition of those really bright and vivid notes of tangerine and
lemon. For me it is these two relatively innocuous materials that explode the
full mood of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i>, like fire kissing
gunpowder. The elegant verisimilitude of the duo work in a gustatory way,
mixing with the patisserie sweetness of creamy vanilla and chewy tonka and cut
through the ‘traditional’ assembly of resins, smoke and woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7h5yRh-YFSH2D599A4X4CF8osw8y1x0cI8URbj6HxAUuf5RaGdQ2qvOhyphenhyphenuAyZjLiYTbllqP4zxDNa-5ap8kWA2Bd2G3dApP_ISH6dxXIgpkM-di-mXjcD1k2tMidWMc8mIhtRgeBlDo/s1600/xmasdetritus3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7h5yRh-YFSH2D599A4X4CF8osw8y1x0cI8URbj6HxAUuf5RaGdQ2qvOhyphenhyphenuAyZjLiYTbllqP4zxDNa-5ap8kWA2Bd2G3dApP_ISH6dxXIgpkM-di-mXjcD1k2tMidWMc8mIhtRgeBlDo/s400/xmasdetritus3.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">'Aftermath' by Hege Greenall-Scholtz</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It is this
unorthodox assembly of materials, effects and careful subversion of tradition
of form that paints a unique tableau for me of a shattered Christmas, one with
humans removed, just our detritus and influences remaining. Each time I wear <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i>, I have a very specific set of
images rising up of cluttered rooms lit by flickering Christmas lights; my mind
roams through these rooms like a hungry camera, devouring shadows, discarded
dreams and family love. The scent track is omnipresent, filling all corners,
stroking walls, licking glasses and lifting carpets. It smells of ambered,
woody isolation with a whispered ghost of hot, mulled liqueur, clove oranges
and fading trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna’s</i> eccentric combination of notes and clever use of the oriental structure
is the haunted pieces of what is left unsaid at Christmas, of what is left
behind as the rooms are emptied and the pent-up excitement, gluttonous present-tearing
and glittering bonhomie peaks for yet another year. The sudden puncture of this
strange, forced season can be sudden and overwhelming. I find the aftermath
fascinating, the suddenly redundant paraphernalia and the awareness of a whole
year to turn before it comes again. So much preparation for such a huge
explosive burst of sensual cacophony. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i>
is all this, warm empty rooms lit by blinking trees, strings of tangled lights
and candles, sinuous flames reaching dangerously past gaudy tinsel and scattered
cards. Voices in the street mix with sudden pops of broken glass. Inside, all is
silence and flickering aurous shadows, a scent of peeled fruit, skins curled
like burnished metal by the garnet embers of dying fire. The air is oranges and
spices, wreathed in the haunting ecclesiastical fumes of frankincense and myrrh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xQNQX0OO5DovCGPIdeiRMVkala2h3JfcrnlrUmBqwk09vZh-nxh9WtET4tzp_1MjtmiMnb4xr6VUhCI0my6hPg2r-ZFEc5YS3bTddPK1kk4eKXag3nOccZp4N9X1y4c8-IMtz1WAguc/s1600/Bluelights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xQNQX0OO5DovCGPIdeiRMVkala2h3JfcrnlrUmBqwk09vZh-nxh9WtET4tzp_1MjtmiMnb4xr6VUhCI0my6hPg2r-ZFEc5YS3bTddPK1kk4eKXag3nOccZp4N9X1y4c8-IMtz1WAguc/s320/Bluelights.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">'Night Walk' 2016 TSF</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Visitors may have
bought drifts of classic perfumes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shalimar</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chanel No 5, Coco Mademoiselle</i>, a
pungent burst of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aromatics Elixir</i>
with its love me/hate mix of cigarette and hairspray chypré insistence. Mixed
with the embers of fine food, incense and sweet desserts, chairs and cushions
imprinted with family tensions, alcohol loosening bitter tongues. Incense
burned to mask the slow cooking of seasonal birds and hams. But <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> haunts this vulpine tableau
like a beautiful rogue relation, dazzling the air from rooms, leaving her
sparkling traces over everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I think the more you
wear this impressive creation from Cécile and Jan, the more you appreciate the
skill needed to subvert and play with the conventions of the oriental format.
The classical warm, ambered, vanilla-anchored form is actually a vanishing
thing, smothered now by the demand for oud-rich, leather-lashed compositions.
Everything has its place and of course tastes shift and change but I grew up in
the sumptuous shadow of these gilded formulae, YSL’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Opium</i>, Estée Lauder’s rival <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cinnabar</i>,
Patou’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Joy, </i>a<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>favourite<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>of my late
aunt, my beloved rose-shattered <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nahéma</i>
by Guérlain, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Obsession</i> by Calvin
Klein that I asphyxiated student libraries with and the heart-breaking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nuit de Noël</i> extract by Caron that I had
in the exquisite jewel-like shagreen flacon until someone stole it at a party. For
years I just kept the box as it retained the ghostly traces of earthy forested
oakmoss and a threadbare damask rose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwMcUMyao9c4MdpPq6KCHYMWr7SQdhZoCFeU83xVHeNEbHX6kjwN8SFADy2auZRMTCb7KY-Ye3BHip_VYhZNNfO_7IE7wXzuJCHmAb4agOpsYZdoltk6EoQdBGJQmJ4XHXpLxohH0r6U/s1600/SheAtom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSwMcUMyao9c4MdpPq6KCHYMWr7SQdhZoCFeU83xVHeNEbHX6kjwN8SFADy2auZRMTCb7KY-Ye3BHip_VYhZNNfO_7IE7wXzuJCHmAb4agOpsYZdoltk6EoQdBGJQmJ4XHXpLxohH0r6U/s320/SheAtom.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's atomiser</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Puredistance is a
house on the cusp of much wider exposure, prices aside and they are high, theoretically
reflecting the materials used and the manufacturing of their sleek flacons etc.
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i> I feel is the most elegant
and perfected of their compositions to date. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black</i> was pretty stunning in its daring collision of niche void and
Antoine Lie’s adaptation of his own plastic-fantastic style with Jan’s plush
euro vision but it lacked a certain border and bite. Annie Buzantian’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Puredistance 1 </i>was the template, the
creative paradigm that set a high standard for things to come. Despite the use
of different perfumers, there is a certain olfactive motif to the collection,
something akin to the smell of new luxury cars or elusive couture bags, an
indefinable sense of haute olfaction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">For all of the
lavish house banter about materials and process, the glittering global launches
and jet set nature of this hitherto relatively low-key house, there is a
burgeoning sense of ambition and artistic vision. They have just announced the
launch of a very exclusive new scent called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Warszawa</i>,
created once more in collaboration with Antoine Lie, which will only be
available at Quality Missala in Warsaw until 1 November 2017 then it will be
globally launched. I strongly suggest keeping an eye or nose on Puredistance, I
suspect each new launch will reveal new facets about the house and allow them
to work with a more diverse collection of perfumers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KQvm2p6FhcHXtuzxjqg-gZSkbw5KeqQQBy3H2cRuJApHglQYr5hfiiYHQZql4YSSHmB0vL4YGVC5P9imayGI8X3gj6VIvP0_kPqZz0Bg2u2AuAi4An1cEtXbk0-KE4J_mrgXEwqkM9c/s1600/She5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KQvm2p6FhcHXtuzxjqg-gZSkbw5KeqQQBy3H2cRuJApHglQYr5hfiiYHQZql4YSSHmB0vL4YGVC5P9imayGI8X3gj6VIvP0_kPqZz0Bg2u2AuAi4An1cEtXbk0-KE4J_mrgXEwqkM9c/s320/She5.JPG" width="270" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">If you can find the
Puredistance perfumes, sample them and see what you think, you will find an
intensely luxurious, elegantly focused line, made by Jan and his fiercely
dedicated team in collaboration with an intriguing and carefully commissioned family
of perfumers. For now I will indulge in this beautifully arranged perfume as it
conjures up such a sensual and contradictory array of emotions and olfactive
images. A plush and luxurious oriental that invokes an eerie, shadow-washed
vignette of December’s divisive, garish and obsessively observed feast day. You
will all have differing reactions to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheiduna</i>,
the notes and accords will register and transmute in innumerable ways. Mine was
a dark telling of Christmas days, reflecting perhaps my own damaged perceptions
of this crazy, shiny behemoth of a celebration. So maybe I’m bitter but I will
smell wondrous in this work of startling luxe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">©TheSilverFox 20 December 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Disclosure<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">: I received a sample of Sheiduna from
Puredistance, kindly organised originally by MC at Cafleurebon. All opinions my own. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i>For more information of Sheiduna and Puredistance, please click on the link below: </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.puredistance.com/"><i><span style="color: #444444;">Puredistance</span></i></a></span></div>
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The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-18545369320366051222016-11-06T15:30:00.000+00:002017-01-03T23:33:43.436+00:00Firework Blooms & Blue Shadowed Seas: ‘Slow Explosions’ & ‘Every Storm a Serenade’ by Imaginary Authors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">When love is not madness, it is not love<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">There are really
only a handful of Houses that I can honestly say I look forward to each of
their launches with anticipation and excitement, knowing instinctually I will
be fascinated, enamoured and intrigued. I count Mona di Orio, Arquiste, Vero
Profumo, Slumberhouse, Gabriella Chieffo Profumi, Masque Fragranze, Hermès,
HYLNDS, Papillion Perfumes, Laboratorio Olfattivo, MDCI Parfums among them.
There are others, but I am rarely deceived by work from the aforementioned; the
work is exemplary, emotive, built from superlative materials and composed by
men and women for whom olfaction is more than just notes, accords and formulae,
it is art with skin as canvas and our sense of smell as the discerning,
clamouring audience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeNTZBm14krFnpTlmZced6p1m1g5XyXUTE8phE0zc8cMkbEDtPB2AF9WKdg6iDjid-wwbGeykTOQ-3La6xpF22es2Q4Ywy71TsCNuFQQfVCXPBtxd5ak5GvnrLchRJcWqKgRq5BkHMew/s1600/FullSizeRender-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeNTZBm14krFnpTlmZced6p1m1g5XyXUTE8phE0zc8cMkbEDtPB2AF9WKdg6iDjid-wwbGeykTOQ-3La6xpF22es2Q4Ywy71TsCNuFQQfVCXPBtxd5ak5GvnrLchRJcWqKgRq5BkHMew/s320/FullSizeRender-19.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Foxy's Authors & Bookmarks...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">To the list above I
must add Imaginary Authors, founded by the lovely Josh Meyer, out of Portland
Oregon whose olfactive fictions and innovative bottled storytelling has been
delighting the Foxy paws off me since Josh’s unique library launched in 2012. I
have seven of his singular creations in my collection: the mulchy fog &
strawberries of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cape Heartache</i>, the
asphalt & sunlit cigarette trails of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Cobra and the Canary</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Memoirs of a
Trespasser</i>, all dense oaky vanilla and claustrophobic myrrh, the arid,
fig-laced sadness of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yesterday Haze</i>,
the chilly Narnia wardrobe oddity of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Air
of Despair, City on Fire, </i>a thick swirling scent of cade and heat-burst
berries and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bull’s Blood</i>, a
Hemmingway-esque tribute to doomed lurid love, torn roses and blood-soaked <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">corridas</i>.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/11/firework-blooms-blue-shadowed-seas-slow.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-64370845717525650052016-09-29T22:50:00.000+01:002016-11-06T20:22:58.268+00:00A Process of Rites and Orisons: ‘New Sibet’ by Slumberhouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘…<i>Since I’ve<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">been incinerated, I’ve oft returned to this
thought,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">that all things loved are pursued and never
caught,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">even as you slept beside me you were flying off</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">From ‘Ash Ode’ 1955 by Dean
Young<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In my study, bottles of Slumberhouse
extracts in hues of mead, copper, decay, wine, moss, lichen, honey, tobacco,
mould, pollen, malachite and velvet dream in darkness. These philtres and
potions are deep-wrought formulae of transformation, slumber and death;
enraptured hexes for craven skin created by a necromancer’s love of exile and
shadow. They are of course the olfactive work of the enigmatic perfumer Josh
Lobb, a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hallucinator</i> of arcane
aromatics; someone capable of producing olfactive work of original profundity
and eeriness. The compositions often feel like the work of a man who cannot
only converse to his materials but also to their shadows. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">There is heretical swoon in
Slumberhouse perfumery. Always. Right from the start, when I was wearing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vikt, Rume</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Grev</i> and wondering how Josh <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seized</i>
the visceral personae of his materials, I knew evolution, experimentation, transubstantiation,
fear, horror and olfactive violence would produce increasingly exceptional
work. O<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">re, Norne, Zahd, Sadanne, Kiste</i>
and now <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New Sibet</i>. Josh has no
concerns for conformity in terms of traditional perfumery structures. His
compositions more often than not eschew top and upper heart notes, focussing on
the full grandeur of decent into bases, revelling in the effects that can be
achieved by the far-reaching, resinous, ambered, smoke-laden ripples of linear
composition. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Despite this apparent lack of
perceived conventional structure, I would argue that Josh has created a very instinctive aromatic language of his own, spending long periods of time
perfecting the exact nuances and timbres of each raw material for his compositions.
There is claustrophobia of intent; the perfumed works resemble well-worked
paintings sitting on easels alone in darkness, cloaked in cloth. Josh approaches
by candlelight to add small touches of aromatic colour here and there, scraping
scented pigment away to reveal another colour somewhere else. Wax is dropped
and trailed, drops of shellac, surfaces burned. The processes are comparable.
His juice breaks rules. There are those that say it is not really fragrance at
all. Utter nonsense of course, it is art and liquid perturbation, one man’s
obsessive vision of a decidedly unconventional and pungent world.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/09/a-process-of-rites-and-orisons-new.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-6044341391422789302016-09-22T22:38:00.000+01:002016-09-29T22:51:11.805+01:00 Grace & Restoration: ‘Green Water’ & Creating Fath’s Essentials. <span style="color: #444444;"><br></span>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i>No water, no life. No blue, no green.</i>’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Sylvia Earle.
American marine biologist & explorer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">This will be an
unabashed love letter to the seemingly unending talents of perfumer Cécile
Zarokian but also to the four outstanding scents she has created with Panouge
for Jacques Fath Paris. There is too, undeniably the poignant <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">histoire</i> of Jacques Fath himself, a
golden prince of couture who, post Second World War in France, along with
Christian Dior and Pierre Balmain redefined the essence of feminine fashion and
made women feel outrageously glamourous and beautiful. He died far too young at
the age of forty-two, but while he was alive he blazed like a supernova. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jacques Fath lensed<br>by Avedon</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Those of you who
follow and read my work will know how much I admire the perfumery and artistry
of French perfumer Cécile Zarokian. Originally ISIPCA trained, she is now an
independent creator with her own laboratory, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cécile Zarokian Sarl</i>, set up in 2011, with over fifty compositions
under her belt for houses and brands such as Jul et Mad, Masque Milano, Amouage
(she composed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Epic</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Woman</i> while still at ISIPCA), Jovoy,
Xerjoff, Uer Mi, Laboratorio Olfattivo, David Jourquin and Hayari. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYebEDIi6FUMJN8onDwBEpRznG4drPdYZwBNA92-zsB-0VHESpu1yuwx0SdGkdy0qIChuv25DtUNJziip0UDL3t0UY9D8AAe7P65MJQkKLesEfUnqudbnsTm31W__q9ihJ22pjybU2bw/s1600/Cecile+%2528door%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYebEDIi6FUMJN8onDwBEpRznG4drPdYZwBNA92-zsB-0VHESpu1yuwx0SdGkdy0qIChuv25DtUNJziip0UDL3t0UY9D8AAe7P65MJQkKLesEfUnqudbnsTm31W__q9ihJ22pjybU2bw/s320/Cecile+%2528door%2529.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Cécile Zarokian </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Each piece
of work is different, technically Cécile is brilliant, smoothly adapt at
working within the complexities of IFRA constraints, although refreshingly she
has said that she is part of a new generation of perfumers who have trained
within this so-called restrictive system and therefore have to be more creative
as a result. Along with contemporaries like Luca Maffei, Cristiano Canali,
Quentin Bisch, Julien Rasquinet, Amélie Bourgeois, Sophie Labbé and Aliénor Massenet
it is true that perhaps the time for grumbling about IFRA’s punitive hold on
perfumery materials should be stilled a little.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/09/grace-restoration-green-water-creating.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-75020665886314608712016-08-30T11:42:00.001+01:002016-09-23T08:51:19.211+01:00..And Moroder Sanctified Their Disco Skin: ÉL & ELLA by Arquiste<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGF8TqtNO3rtA6F787cs2B5dFdl8kxYACrq79aPQwh5P6kLGsGKqgErbuEqGx_NxHQT-9vI25IzmcwhTvT7vcKFJhlEdKHK4H7EtB9WebclKEy01ADKWpfSmhotl7qYlWP4Il9HXuVpv0/s1600/donna3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGF8TqtNO3rtA6F787cs2B5dFdl8kxYACrq79aPQwh5P6kLGsGKqgErbuEqGx_NxHQT-9vI25IzmcwhTvT7vcKFJhlEdKHK4H7EtB9WebclKEy01ADKWpfSmhotl7qYlWP4Il9HXuVpv0/s400/donna3.JPG" width="400"></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Disco deserved a better
name, a beautiful name because it was a beautiful art form. It made the
consumer beautiful. The consumer was the star.</i>’ Barry White<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Evening. 10:30pm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Costera Miguel Alemán, Acapulco. December. 1978.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In the rear-view mirror he watched her applying lipstick from a
golden tube. Her cascade of dark hair and glowing bronzed skin was illuminated
by the beams of passing cars. Dressed in plunging ivory with pieces of gold at
her throat and neck, she glowed like a pearl in the shadowed interior of the
car. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">”Eyes on the road, I don’t want to die tonight.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The driver winked at her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">“You are as beautiful as the magazine pages señorita, my wife
has your pictures cut out and saved. She will never believe you have been in my
car tonight.”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">She smiled as the limo glided along the brightly lit boulevard towards
Armando’s Le Club. She wound down the window and listened to the tropical
night. The New York shoot had exhausted her, she felt as fragile as glass. She
lit a cigarette, the sound of the match suddenly flaring like a shout in the
night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The road was oddly tranquil as she watched the car disappear,
the palm trees overhead brushing the sky. The bay was awash with hotel lights. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have missed this</i>… she murmured. A
sudden explosion of sharply dressed party people seemed to appear from nowhere,
carnival and louche. Someone waved, she nodded and turned to look toward the
ocean, hearing its wash and swell in her mind. Holding a small white glass
bottle she’d taken from her purse she pulled her hair to one side, exposing the
back of her neck and scented her skin feeling her senses cool in the evening
miasma. A fine mist for her hair, then throat and décolleté, her skin still
slightly slick with oil from an afternoon of languid sunbathing and exquisite
observation from behind the biggest sunglasses money could buy.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiDemhwwd2el8kxNpM9-mb12oTvykx6JAJR9NwtioNFXyilO5pyQJY-yv6CgnEmfVXuzsFiaGqr4A_CZhTAwy7-OJjBbCNsYUY6HKjP-JK8pHl-r8kuWP_T3dy5x7_AfH9_aQaRPlkiw/s1600/club2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsiDemhwwd2el8kxNpM9-mb12oTvykx6JAJR9NwtioNFXyilO5pyQJY-yv6CgnEmfVXuzsFiaGqr4A_CZhTAwy7-OJjBbCNsYUY6HKjP-JK8pHl-r8kuWP_T3dy5x7_AfH9_aQaRPlkiw/s320/club2.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Armando's Le Club</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The doorman nodded recognition. Once she was inside she felt
like she had come home. She wondered how long she had been coming to Aramando
Sotres’ club now, endless afternoons by the sparkling azure-tiled pool under an
Acapulco sun that always seemed that little more Hollywood when she was here, glittered
off the Moorish white walls and columns. The reflected heat and dense tropical
foliage gave the place an eerie, dislocated feel like one of her endless
photo-shoots in empty pools or abandoned zoos. Occasionally peacocks wandered
poolside like overdressed visitors. She loved the emptiness of sun worship, the
near-claustrophobia of stillness cut by the arrival of cocktails, gossip and
sexy waiters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEjvAyfcp9FBqZTVxcuh9V9nmSL6oSXy5KFyac4kNJqLZ_OB2KNWuKnuX2idklcvoke_Je5l0n0Z_mzdj7kDT-VRTOIBjHgzmjoc9LOXux37covsRB-0nmcaT0DYRX5gw2zG7eCg924Y/s1600/ARQUISTE+E%25CC%2581L_Y_ELLA_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqEjvAyfcp9FBqZTVxcuh9V9nmSL6oSXy5KFyac4kNJqLZ_OB2KNWuKnuX2idklcvoke_Je5l0n0Z_mzdj7kDT-VRTOIBjHgzmjoc9LOXux37covsRB-0nmcaT0DYRX5gw2zG7eCg924Y/s400/ARQUISTE+E%25CC%2581L_Y_ELLA_2.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #444444; text-align: start;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; text-align: start;">ÉL</span><span style="color: #444444; text-align: start;"> and </span><span style="color: #444444; text-align: start;">ELLA<br>Image ©Arquiste</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Night time at Armando’s Le Club was dinner and serious dancing; dancing
till dawn or until your feet gave out and then falling into the dawn light on the beach. That was one of the delirious truths about Armando’s; it ran from
boulevard down to glorious beach. She smiled to her herself at memories of
spinning out onto the sand, skin on fire from hours of music, laughter, collisions,
kisses and sleeping under a cool rising sun. Sometimes diving into the ocean to
shock away the night. She swirled her champagne around and around in her glass.
It was nearly midnight. He was late. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">A man came up quietly behind her and gently leaned into her
neck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">“You smell of hot flowers. Come, dance with me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">“I should bite you for making me wait so long. Where have you
been?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">“Over there on the other side of the room, you see the girl in
the emerald dress that sparkles like a snake? I danced a little with her, to
watch you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">She raised her hand as if to strike; he caught her wrist and
inhaled her pulse point, licking softly at the surface of the skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">“A trail of tanning oil…Sobranie…and…jasmine…”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4q5San7BVsbPIlQKMzyC9DiX4cAFTAR_9CUN9scFZsc5_qrrNkBLRPOP_96C_TbcTorJe7wXgl2-glYA1KMADW91cor1wkvY86C4fk-25xVZSSmVSZibKcRd_ggfZC19cEOYT9CVQe2c/s1600/donna2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4q5San7BVsbPIlQKMzyC9DiX4cAFTAR_9CUN9scFZsc5_qrrNkBLRPOP_96C_TbcTorJe7wXgl2-glYA1KMADW91cor1wkvY86C4fk-25xVZSSmVSZibKcRd_ggfZC19cEOYT9CVQe2c/s320/donna2.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">He pulled her to him, she inhaled all of him violently, a feral
charge of sweat, leather and tobacco rose like smoke off his dark curling chest.
The lights around them flashed off the stained glass windows and flickered like
fever dream. They felt their bodies instantly react to that sliding electronic
intro and the beginnings of glistening thunderous arpeggios… <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ooh, it's so good, it's so good</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it's so good, it's so good, it's so good</i>…
she looked to him through the strobing, rolling lights and the now heaving
dance floor, everyone moving in their own sweat-tossed worlds to Donna Summer’s
insistent pulsating vocals. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have come
home</i>…she said out loud, words swallowed by the music. He took her hands gently
at first to find a rhythm; she realised Moroder sanctified their disco skin as
their bodies flexed and curved in obeisance to the bassline. The smell of
champagne and skin filled the floor.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/08/and-moroder-sanctified-their-disco-skin.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-59337534212206068722016-08-24T21:55:00.000+01:002016-09-18T07:49:00.065+01:00Only the Light Moves: ‘Dilettante’ by Hiram Green<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAmbzB7ABeq2uVxFYnxLo3otW0zpWedDNmb74nTPyRyjbRkh2DQ4eBna_wC2pyXY9jRlwWlVmdXZ49TFa75RY8rd-vgqBVpgzgtsC6jte8IoV0HYyANpoakpRE0H378wYaLoNil68RPs/s1600/anna+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAmbzB7ABeq2uVxFYnxLo3otW0zpWedDNmb74nTPyRyjbRkh2DQ4eBna_wC2pyXY9jRlwWlVmdXZ49TFa75RY8rd-vgqBVpgzgtsC6jte8IoV0HYyANpoakpRE0H378wYaLoNil68RPs/s400/anna+girl.jpg" width="287"></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is
the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed,
only the light moves.</i>’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Leonora Carrington<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dilettante</i> can often cast a slight
pejorative shadow but its original etymology lies in the Latin <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">delactare</i> and Italian <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dilettare</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to delight;</i> hence <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dilettante</i>,
thus signifying someone who delighted, particularly in the arts. It is now used
as a casually throwaway term for someone who dabbles or professes an effusive,
superficial love of the arts but lacks a true understanding of any one singular
form. You know something though… if I had to choose between one respective
so-called expert and a ballroom full of gadfly dilettanti; give me the
fun-loving, flitting, dilettanti any day. I’ve had my fill of experts. I’d
rather have the laughter and hedonistic skimming. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Natural perfumery is
divisive; it often seems to cause a schism of olfactive confusion, annoyance and
just plain misunderstanding amongst perfume lovers. I will admit that I am not always
its biggest fan and often struggle to find scents I like or that suit my
senses. But with age, wisdom and illness actually, I have taken it upon myself
to incrementally learn more. Now, more than ever, the natural perfumery movement
is a vital and powerful part of the contemporary aromatic scene, offering up a
fertile and profound mirror of alternatives to synthetics, fixatives and
chemicals. It offers perhaps a more complex and raw communion with the natural
world, allowing our skin to come into contact with our scented environment that
artificial dilutions abstract and obfuscate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVq0lCwub-cmU0SWIOa6MBj9dyIIEpf7rNw4TClMhSQEZqGe4nNWXX8dcrGMjcXnC2V3yPgKroOWiMZf2hgeRXXdUoDTLzXwiLf2jOFh0wkVQDcVfcC5Ked5oxajiT0dB0TqHFsvuKHA/s1600/HIramBW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVq0lCwub-cmU0SWIOa6MBj9dyIIEpf7rNw4TClMhSQEZqGe4nNWXX8dcrGMjcXnC2V3yPgKroOWiMZf2hgeRXXdUoDTLzXwiLf2jOFh0wkVQDcVfcC5Ked5oxajiT0dB0TqHFsvuKHA/s320/HIramBW.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Natural perfumer - Hiram Green</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Now, haters are
gonna hate, but not all of it is good; some of it is still a tad spoiled in my
opinion by an overly simplistic herbaceous strain of foraging, mountain-craft
style work, sullied DIY enfleurage, an over reliance of the medicinal leanings
of apothecary verdancy. Often the blending is uninspired and blocky, you can
discern the materials lying together in the solvent and there is little true
sense of assembly. This of course could be the point, I know from the
experience of watching perfumers at work how dense and volatile naturals are to
work with and controlling dosage and nuance is difficult. Maybe simplicity is
the key. Repeated brushes with illness have taught me painful lessons about
detaching and treating different parts of myself rather than the undeniable
whole. I think reading this back and seeking a little insight from a friend
that perhaps the same applies to natural perfumery, examining the agrestal,
pure whole rather than focussing on the shards and immediacies. These raw
materials were medicine, poison, balm, weapon and magic; their power and
inherent life force has never really departed.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/08/only-light-moves-dilettante-by-hiram.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-90945888339205245732016-08-15T21:52:00.001+01:002017-06-08T08:36:52.472+01:00Duet of Scarlet & Gold: The Perfect Hermès Arrival of Christine Nagel (& Jean-Claude’s Saffron-Infused Welcome…)<span style="color: #444444;"><br></span>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">..<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When Valia asked me,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">'When did you first set foot in the world?',<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">my laugh, like a rhubarb shoot<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">pokes its head through the snow of my mouth…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Few Lines About My Age </i>by Kurdish poet
Abdullah Pashwew<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">In 2013 it was
announced at Hermès that in-house perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena had chosen a
scented successor. The news seemed a little shocking despite the rumours of
Ellena’s impending retirement that had been drifting carefully around for a
while. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWeqB5bcDsbatMPs-MNhagZOsEdNjWgEkZw2l51-MDkrXorWWGY93ww-j-zL3aBCLz2PfmDIdL8GrmVcVrUXcM1e24Bd5LgdmEbA06122av1Bsa-xkF_e8x0Tj8-NyRKk4wzIYHs1vhs/s1600/JCWCNBW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWeqB5bcDsbatMPs-MNhagZOsEdNjWgEkZw2l51-MDkrXorWWGY93ww-j-zL3aBCLz2PfmDIdL8GrmVcVrUXcM1e24Bd5LgdmEbA06122av1Bsa-xkF_e8x0Tj8-NyRKk4wzIYHs1vhs/s320/JCWCNBW.jpg" width="268"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">Jean-Claude Ellena & Christine Nagel<br>(image ©Hermès)</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Step forward
Christine Nagel, half-French, half-Swiss, an elegant and prolifically stylish perfumer
with some fascinating work on her CV including big hits for Maison Dior, John
Galliano and Guerlain under her belt. Her most intriguing portfolio perhaps
best demonstrating her instinctive nuances and clarity is her work at Jo Malone
London under the seemingly relentless PR machine of Estée Lauder. Among the
twenty five successful and commercially viable fragrances she has composed for
Jo Malone London there are some exceptional perfumes, complex odours I have loved
and admired that have at times seemed to look to Hermès and Jean-Claude’s
less-is-more approach. Her swan song <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wood
Sage & Sea Salt</i> in particular was an especially poignant and minimalist
adieu, sparse and scoured with subtle details and speckles of observed texture.
An abstracted capture of distinctly English windswept beaches, driftwood and
bundled cashmere-wrapped wanderings along deserted coastal stretches. It was a
bittersweet sign-off to a rather brilliant and I think somewhat underrated body
of outstanding work. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5bcxRLCtuck0O-SgYCiRPC2KQhfQabAcHALerN_1g6ZEhN91iLy1zJHFi6M1pqo2ozsYcnb_mjJ-MDDHQ5Aii0dFLDLXS3daSH5krLlam8cq16AFnF5Xu2uJNaYJap08MOCSXC9-rHII/s1600/JM2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5bcxRLCtuck0O-SgYCiRPC2KQhfQabAcHALerN_1g6ZEhN91iLy1zJHFi6M1pqo2ozsYcnb_mjJ-MDDHQ5Aii0dFLDLXS3daSH5krLlam8cq16AFnF5Xu2uJNaYJap08MOCSXC9-rHII/s320/JM2.JPG" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: small;">From the Foxy collection<br>Jo Malone London: Wood Sage & Sea Salt,<br>Rose Water & Vanilla and Bitter Orange & Chocolate</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Christine’s Rose Water & Vanilla</i>, one of the original Cologne Intense series
from 2010 is a scent I have loved since its launch. I was born in Bahrain and this
it is nostalgic silvered Middle Eastern rose alchemy in a bottle to me. Sadly,
Lauder decided to axe it from the line so I stocked up and have three 100ml
dark flacons slumbering in the Foxy study. Christine’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Peony & Blush Suede </i>was one of the brand’s biggest ever hits, a
clever subtle riff on niche leather trends, sublimating it with a veil of rosy
apple and drifting carnation. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Iris &
Lady Moore</i>, a nice mix of powder and rubbed geranium was an unexpected
delight in 2012, part of the London Bloom collection and I have always really
enjoyed Christine’s foray into gourmand territory with offerings such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ginger Biscuit, Lemon Tart</i> and the
divine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bitter Orange & Chocolate</i>
that was literally Terry’s chocolate orange in a bottle. I went through three
bottles and have two more in storage.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/08/duet-of-scarlet-gold-perfect-hermes.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-8129379313824928312016-08-06T23:01:00.000+01:002016-08-15T21:54:15.381+01:00Elegies of Fugitive Anomaly: Three Perfumes by Paul Schütze<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3lnAXYInX_9RuzFrw8X62pypwFIGutzLVHys1HqgS5CDCCtZ4tRbg9Y0tbM0jh4fQiYQ3cMlwJ0-e1OFoCzx63SzuSR0jDgWWq__RFhOQN-xcvfkGqVxQlG4SECgxKBY5HfB9O6qjvA/s1600/trio1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3lnAXYInX_9RuzFrw8X62pypwFIGutzLVHys1HqgS5CDCCtZ4tRbg9Y0tbM0jh4fQiYQ3cMlwJ0-e1OFoCzx63SzuSR0jDgWWq__RFhOQN-xcvfkGqVxQlG4SECgxKBY5HfB9O6qjvA/s400/trio1.jpg" width="300"></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The smoke’s smell, too,<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Flowing from where a bonfire burns<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">The dead, the waste, the dangerous,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And all to sweetness turns</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">From <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Digging</i> by Edward Thomas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">As a writer I do from time to
time receive requests from perfumers to review their scented work. I don’t pen
negative reviews, so if I choose not to post my thoughts on something, it means
I haven’t liked the scent or scents or found anything arresting enough in the
olfactive composition or genesis to inspire me. Not everything has to be
masterly or game-changing. I just need to be interested and surprised enough.
On the Foxy blog I have said before I prefer to write on fragrances I have
purchased, this act of simple aromatic commitment honours both perfume and
perfumer. This may sound a tad simplistic but it allows me to avoid the
poisonous vapours of gloomy and antagonistic reviewing.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/08/elegies-of-fugitive-anomaly-three.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7007960086441215798.post-23497175670358403272016-07-30T17:24:00.000+01:002016-08-06T23:03:07.361+01:00WeAreCanvas: Five X Olfactive Fictions<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_D_fcW-p9ZBUaHvHqgbU9b9NsnvsJyuBteTBhtgSFwFYF-l4D4KDkHqRwiNPmBZ35FmWdXPnnKLgI8eTsPa7mVAgPVaSIY42zRA7-TmmaOTHl_oBg1dFkzz8RnFzrCXWUVdBGErppqjA/s1600/bulgari+black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_D_fcW-p9ZBUaHvHqgbU9b9NsnvsJyuBteTBhtgSFwFYF-l4D4KDkHqRwiNPmBZ35FmWdXPnnKLgI8eTsPa7mVAgPVaSIY42zRA7-TmmaOTHl_oBg1dFkzz8RnFzrCXWUVdBGErppqjA/s400/bulgari+black.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bulgari Black</i>
(Duncan)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I first saw him drinking coffee in a dimly lit corner of an
airport Costa, face tinted blue by his laptop. My chair screamed as I pulled it
out. He glanced up, smiled wearily and my heart lurched like a boat tied to
stalwart iron tugging to flee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Each Friday I travelled home to a cold northern city, to a house
alive with family, to someone I’d loved for more than fifteen years;
familiarity had perhaps dulled our edges, but the bonds, plastered, riveted,
taped and put to bed were secure. We’d had moments of darkness, nights of war words;
resolved in the light of pale morning, skin reeking of fuck and Dior. But I
felt loved enough. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">On weekly London commutes I saw him everywhere; at check ins, on
trains to Liverpool Street, wandering scattered concourses, thumbing magazines
in the warm, sugar-aired W.H. Smith. He trailed vanilla and a weird sniff of
smoky plastic, mixed with businessman heat and exhaustion. It was intoxicating.
I stalked his vapours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">‘Can I buy your coffee for you?’ He was standing behind me,
exuding that sweet scent of Lego tires and chai. Such a casual request led us recklessly
to a room in a hotel, sitting in loaded shadows, each of us wondering how the
other tasted. It felt insane but my skin burned for him. ‘You smell of burnt
tea and rubber, it’s driving me fucking crazy’. I stood and touched his face
hard, pushing fingers over his lips and stubble. He flinched, then chewed and
licked at my fingers. I leaned down and pushed my face into the gap of collar
and neck. ‘What is this smell?’ I asked, nuzzling his throat, ‘it’s amazing’.</span><br>
</div><a href="https://www.ascentofelegance.com/2016/07/wearecanvas-five-x-olfactive-fictions.html#more">Please click to carry on reading.....</a>The Silver Foxhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03246908667967088118noreply@blogger.com0