I went to Helen’s house last night, and she had an immaculate bottle of vintage Eau De Metal standing there on her dresser. What a beautiful perfume. Frustratingly, because of my knee injury, I can’t go walking about my old haunts as much as I would like to, but I am nevertheless enjoying just marinating in the atmosphere of my parents’ house, my friends: the perfumes they have.
Monthly Archives: March 2014
SCREAMING JELLY BABIES: TUSCAN BLOOD ORANGE by PACIFICA
I am in England now, surrounded by my past.
Filed under Flowers
My father has always been unpredictable
but it is highly amusing to me that he has suddenly started taken to wearing Givenchy Hot Couture.
And it smells REALLY good
Filed under Flowers
WHITE NARCISSUS : : : NARCISSE BLANC by CARON (1927)
The narcissus flower is nature’s narcotic. Worshipped by the ancients, it is an intoxicating, overpowering scent in concentration and in excess can be deleterious to the health, the bulb of the flower, if ingested, lethal.
Narcissus absolute is therefore usually used in moderate quantities, for a certain carnal luminosity: for added, troubling intrigue in fragranced blends, but rarely seems to star. Caron, however, once a fearless house of perfume, had the temerity to create, in 1927, a scent of these white flowers at their most potent (it is only available in extrait): a perfume dominated in its head notes by an intense concentration of narcissus, orange blossom, neroli, petitgrain, bitter orange, linden, and iris. While often said to be a ‘lighter’ more polite, version of Narcisse Noir, I have never personally understood this, as I own the extrait, an unlikely perfume for me in truth, that I bought from the Caron boutique on the Avenue Montaigne in Paris many years ago, having spent an entire afternoon with Helen testing all the urn perfumes in the shop and trying, desperately, to decide which one to buy. Probably I should have bought Poivre, or Farnesiana, or even Rose, but somehow, at that time, for some reason, I kept being drawn back inexorably to The White Narcissus.
To me personally, its exotic, sultry and erotic intimations, its dry, animalic base of sandalwood and musk, all make it raw, uncompromising; resolutely sensual; unwestern. While Narcisse Noir works so well because of the sullen, carnal tensions between the darkness of the base and the glowering, narcisssus’d orange blossoms in the head, the less shadowed, boisé anchoring in Narcisse Blanc almost make the flowers more torrid, more feral as they have more room in the blend to breathe and emote.
Narcisse Blanc is very difficult for me to wear, the strength of the flowers bursting from their little flacon, for me almost headache inducing in their glinting, warm sweet headiness. It is a perfume for very specific timess, therefore, one I try to get Duncan to wear on occasion ( it smells curiously sexy, like an Indian prince), or dab on once in a while on hot summer evenings while sitting on the balcony. But never have I, as with a fair proportion of my perfumes, actually worn this perfume outside the house. Maybe one day I might. Perhaps on a once in a lifetime trip to the Taj Majal.
Filed under Flowers
SOME CARNATIONS………..GAROFANO by SANTA MARIA NOVELLA (1828) + BELLODGIA by CARON (1927) + MALMAISON by FLORIS (1830)+ GAROFANO by LORENZO VILLORESI (1995) + OEILLET SAUVAGE by L’ARTISAN PARFUMEUR (2000) + DIANTHUS by ETRO (2006) + SACREBLEU by PARFUMS NICOLAI (1993) + GAROFANO by BORSARI (1930)+ METALLICA by GUERLAIN (2000)+ SOIE ROUGE by MAITRE PARFUMEUR ET GANTIER (1988) + CARNATION by COMME DES GARCONS (2001)
GAROFANO/ SANTA MARIA NOVELLA
A brilliant pink Spring Sunday in Japan, cherry blossom season.
After a bath, a sleep on the sofa, and a couple of glasses of Zubrowka vodka, I put some Santa Maria Novella on and left the house, emerging and blinking blearily into a windy, sunny afternoon: a woozy, technicolour dreamworld of peach and cherry blossom blowing in the breeze like drifting, petalled snow in a gentle reverie of scent, as carnations seemed to bloom from my skin, and the sky was open and bright blue above.
With this king of carnation perfumes (and to me, this really is king), startlingly real apparitions of pale, full, pink carnations appear in all their lusciousness and vitality from the tiniest drop on the skin, while the cloviness of the flowers seems to grow only more intense the more time passes, never letting up in strength and aroma the entire day. The perfume is, quite simply, brilliantly alive, and for anyone like me who buried their face in the flowers as a child in the garden, inhaling deeply their rich, springtime scented petals, this is the essential carnation experience.
BELLODGIA/ CARON
A royalty of carnations.
Taking its name from an Italian lakeside town where fields of wild carnations grow, Bellodgia (1927) is a rich, well-loved carnation of beauty – a tapestry. Where Santa Maria Novella focuses on the pale freshness of carnation petals and their penetrating spice, Bellodgia envelops more initially trembling, languorous carnations in a banquet of jasmine and violet-scented roses that is beautifully, and classically, controlled. Only after about forty minutes does the familiar cloviness of the carnation then reappear, underscored by a bed of sandal, vanilla, and creamy, old-fashioned musks. The effect is classical, tender – dripping, practically, with emotion – a carnation for the romantic.
MALMAISON/ FLORIS
Malmaison, a scent popular since its creation in the nineteenth century and a favourite of Oscar Wilde (who actually dyed his carnations green every morning to keep them new), is lighter, brighter, and spicier than Bellodgia, with top notes of ylang and lemon; more sly, flirtatious, shrewd. A perfect balance of fresh floral notes, spice (its clove is very piquant), woods and musk, it is an ostentatious scent that takes us back to the Edwardian age when Malmaison carnations and asparagus ferns graced glass vases as the drawing room centerpieces of grandballrooms : the gathering points of contemporary Society.
Carnations at their most vivacious.
GAROFANO/ LORENZO VILLORESI
Lorenzo Villoresi’s creations are characterized by vivid flourishes that have inspired quite a wild following. The scents certainly turn heads, and one night on an outing to a restaurant with my sister I decided, perhaps unwisely, to try out his carnation scent, Garofano.
This was perhaps not the most subtle choice for a place where people were eating – it is one hell of a fireworks floral – though I have to say that I myself rather selfishly enjoyed it: a carnation-based blend that is fresh, opulent, and spicy, with floral edges of rose and geranium: but not sweet; superbly balanced as it is with elements of black pepper and cinnamon. The formula eventually (quite a bit later), calms to a soft, sultry musk accord of woods and vanilla.
Feeling heady and extroverted, however, and in fine spirits that evening, I applied a great dose of the scent just before we entered the place, for maximum impact, and as we sat down, a waitress, on her way to another table, suddenly swung round with an
‘Oh-my God-what-are-you-wearing-that-is-gorgeous, amazing……is-it-Habit-Rouge???!’
lunging straight for my neck even as my sister was gagging to herself and moving back her chair.
Neil, she said, do you HAVE to ?
As carnation perfumes go, then, Villoresi could therefore polarize. Of those here, Villoresi’s carnation is most akin to the fresh naturalness of the Santa Maria Novella’s, though perhaps less magical and fairy tale-like; more expansive; masculine, a touch drier. It is a very good addition to the type, however, and recommended if you want something pink, natural; assertive.
OEILLET SAUVAGE/ L’ARTISAN PARFUMEUR
If the fanged carnations of the plush exuberant, Italian variety are too scary for you (‘garafono’, with the stress on the second ‘a’,was the first word in my Italian language textbook, the one we were required to read before going to university, and is thus a very endearing word for me – a gorgeous substitute for ‘carnation’ and my Italian department friends), but you also you find the wilting, Grand Duchess musks of Bellodgia a bit too much, then perhaps you might prefer a subtler, woodland take – Anne Flipo’s more delicate story: a tale of wild carnations growing peacefully by a stream; spice subdued; the petals drinking, quietly, obliviously, in the delicate, June time sylvan air.
DIANTHUS/ ETRO
Another possibility, if you hanker for a dewy, petal-fresh carnation for spring or Mother’s Day without all the pomp, is Dianthus (from the original latin name for carnation): a lightly spiced, modern carnation with top notes of ginger and pepper, but given a tender, powder transparency with light rose, musk and vanilla. It is a subtle and convincing carnation that I think works well as a stylish, but introverted carnation alternative.
SACREBLEU/ PARFUMS DE NICOLAI
A more sexual proposition.
An orange, smart carnation with a fruity beginning – mandarin, raspberry, apricot – an almost salty, musk/sandalwood, and a tuberose/cinnamon/ incense heart that works well as an upfront power-lunch perfume in the vein of Giorgio’s Red – surely one of the ultimate blockbuster florals – though Sacrebleu is more subtle and comforting (it is French).
The paint in Red is thick, acrylic, and seven coats thick. In Sacrebleu it is freshly on, a more subtle shade, and only one coat.
GAROFANO/ BORSARI
Darker blooms: tea with Mussolini.
An Italian carnation from 1930, compact and boxy with a cinnamon, rose, black pepper and clove twist, this gorgeous carnation scent has a suave, knowing chic not seen elsewhere in the canon: an exciting perfume for an elegant woman in black.
Only available as one of the miniatures in the classic Borsari sets.
METALLICA/ GUERLAIN
The idea of a thrash metal band being bothered to sue – and win – against the house of Guerlain is surely hilarious. I remember being at a Guerlain counter in Birmingham where the limited edition Metallica had just emerged, presented in a wonderful bee-encrusted silver flacon that I desperately wanted (these are now heavily coveted collectors’ items and I should have just robbed someone on the street to get one). The scent I wasn’t entirely sure about at the time as a perfume to wear myself, with its odd, metallic beginning, though the sales lady, who had been wearing it all day, almost convinced me with the final accord. Where many carnations end in non-descript dusk-pink fashion, the drydown of Metalys is truly beautiful; a smoky, haunting, powdery vanilla/tonka/iris that holds on your skin in the way that only the best Guerlains can.
But what of the rest of the perfume? Well, for a start, it was no longer Metallica, but Metalys. The band didn’t want their head banging ferocity emasculated by a pouffy vanilla carnation, and so the lawyers won ( like Yves Saint Laurent’s Champagne, it was given a forced disappearance, ‘taken out’….)
Essentially, Metalys/ Metallica is an exquisite, but quite difficult, reinterpretation of carnation that cannot be judged on only one inhalation. This perfume requires time: an ephemeral, emotive, almost ghostly orange blossom carnation, yet with all the usual beautifully eccentric Guerlain trimmings.
SOIE ROUGE/ MAITRE PARFUMEUR ET GANTIER (1988)
The classic carnation mould is hard to break (usually some variation on rose, carnation and clove) and that’s what we almost invariably want. It is still very refreshing, nevertheless, to see it done differently on occasion, and Soie Rouge is perhaps the most original take on these flowers I know.
This perfume, by the much underappreciated Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier, has a bright, unexpected loveliness: the smell of optimism; of a brand new day, a soapy, clean carnation overlaid with an almost decadent accord of (over)ripe fruit: pineapple, transparent apricot, and a gentle powdery drydown of heliotrope effectively communicating the silk of the name. It is all airy, and joyous, and more than a little strange.
CARNATION/ COMME DES GARCONS RED SERIES
Comme Des Garçons, with their Red Series carnation, refreshingly deny us the powdery heritage of carnations, rocketing them up into spicy red stratospheres that are fresh and enticing, bestowing us with a wholly modern, zinging scent that works rather nicely. With notes of red carnation, red pepper and cloves (and a good dose of fresh modern rose) what you have here is a clean, spiced carnation flower without baggage.
* * * * * *
For yet more carnation perfumes see also my reviews of Serge Lutens Vitriol d’Oeillet, another beautiful and underrated carnation, plus the enigmatic Diamond Waters & Golconda by JAR.
And, incidentally, are there any other really good carnation scents that you would like to recommend us carnation lovers?
Filed under Flowers
YOUR KISSES TASTE LIKE UNE FLEUR DE CASSIE
I have no idea what the meaning of life is, but I do know that while half the world is starving, a significant proportion of the richer quotient is wandering around department stores and bijou little fashion concessions just looking for something to buy, to spend some of that hard earned money else what’s the point? A naughty, unneeded item of luxury on the way home just to pamper; something to buy for the sake of buying, just……….because.
Nowhere is this more true than Japan, where young people live rent-free with their parents until their mid-twenties or thirties and thus have more disposable income than anyone else on the planet; money to be spent on clothes, accessories, sundries, cute nonsense, games, or prestigious European imports: food, drinks, sweets, gums; purchased, wrapped up, ribboned immaculately, in sweet little designer-printed paper fukuro.
Tuesday evening, bored, with time to kill before getting on the night bus home, I myself understood this impulse: I had just been paid and I just wanted to buy something, and so I squandered five hundred yen on a tin of unneeded bonbons I didn’t really want. Finding myself in Seijo Ishii, beloved Japanese purveyor of fine things of that nobody needs, I discovered myself wandering the luxurious aisles with the other post-work consumers, espying on one of the shelves some violet-perfumed confectionery – Les Anis De Flavigny, Violette, véritables anis de l’abbaye de Flavigny to be precise – which I got for the journey home, curious as to how the white, sugar-coated spheres might taste; if I could somehow end up perfuming the dull environs of the bus atmosphere with my silent, violet mouth ( they apparently contain actual violet flower extract, whatever that is, which, as I looked over the tin in the comfort of my seat, I somehow found unusual, and vaguely fascinating).
And how did they taste? Weird. A brief moment of innocuous hard-shelled sugar: then, an attack of strong-tasting, perfumey violet – tanged, almost acerbic and rich, like perfume, like putting your mouth down in the bath water and sucking up some of the bath oil.
A sensation that only lasts a quarter of a minute or so, though, before a more bland, blanc sugariness comes back onto your tastebuds giving a more anisic, softer core that you can, eventually, after three minutes of sucking or so, begin to crunch down on; your tongue lolling in violet sugar, your brain temporarily lulled, further comatosed.
Woe-betide you if you fail to read the fine print though: ‘DO NOT BITE’ they warn, like a hidden edict from Alice In Wonderland: or your teeth, if the enamel has not already begun melting off from all the sugar, might crack into fractured pieces upon impact with this hard candy; proffering up your lips, expectantly, to be kissed: liquorous, purple violets, and a magma of hot sugar dripping from your pucker, as splinters of denta-fragments dribble, glacially, from your chin…
Filed under Flowers
MY INSTINCTS DID LEAD ME TO A HARDWARE STORE
A place with nothing but unappealing, cheapo knick-knacks, hideous furniture, second hand electrical devices, bits and bobs, ugly jewellery boxes…..a place I would never even sully your mind with for its intrusion of drab, functional banality, for fear your very eyes would suddenly fester on their stalks.
I suppose we had wandered in because we once got a fake leather sofa from there, because D has an eye for a bargain, and because they had once gotten hold of some coconut incense that for a while I then became vaguely addicted to.
As we were about to leave, my head turned, my synapses connected, my heart lurched, and I let out that familiar OH MY GOD, as my startled orbs alighted, dazzled, on a very cherished sight in a cabinet right in front of the cash register that I had somehow, in my visual boredom, overlooked: a classic, vintage, Guerlain box of extrait.
Dear reader, if you have never had the delight of owning and treasuring one of these black and white dazzling preciousnessess, I urge you now to feast your eyes on the beauty of these boxes, the almost classically Grecian aspect that surely inspired Diptyque in their own design, and which I could just sit and gaze at for hours (the shape of the gold! the lettering! the way the weird inner box, which I have never seen anywhere before, a very sixties/seventies design of silvery rain and green, nature-laden splotches of flora, is hidden, counterintuitively, in terms of design, within).
See, like one on slow motion autopilot, hypnotized, how my hand reaches out intuitively with not even a nanosecond of hesitation, and grasps this treasure firmly, ready to fight off any (non-existent) contenders; expecting, with guzzling excitement, for it it be my beloved Vol De Nuit.
But no: to my bewilderment (how can this be?!!) it is almost even better.
By the very next second my ravaged old brain has understood, magnificently, that this is not Vol De Nuit but CHAMADE.
CHAMADE.
EXTRAIT.
Look at those two words in juxtaposition, words I have never had the luck to see before in all my years of Japanese vintage hunting. Never. So rare, so beautiful.
And cheap as chips.
Yes, how much was it again? Three thousand, six hundred and fifty yen? Twenty one pounds? Thirty five dollars? For a rare, vintage, unopened bottle of possibly the most beautiful perfume ever made?
I do think so, yes. Oh yes, sir, I do.
Bought, bagged and thrust into my coat pockets, I emerge from this shambolic, unlikely contender of a shop, my Sunday quite made, all thoughts of knee pain and work issues banished in an instant by the perfume that rests in my pocket, which I am now lifting to my nose on the street, having carefully, lovingly, set it free from its entrapment, possibly sealed within since it was purchased by someone somehow just too blind to see its beauty.
It uncoils itself, rises up from its liquid, and lets its green, blue, heartbreaking emanations reach my amygdala: ah yes, that’s Chamade alright, in all its Turkish rose glory, more concentrated, intensified; more hyacinthine, more galbanumy, a more direct arrow to the rabid fetishist’s, softeningly perfuming coeur.
The perfume sits in its exquisite box on the table of the Chinese restaurant we end up in, as the D and I while away the afternoon in a leisurely fashion, relaxed and dreamily, and post-bath later I wear it in bed, the room full of the scent of blooming, enamoured hyacinths….
Filed under Flowers