Monthly Archives: February 2017

TUBEROSA

 

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Burning Bush, a creature from my imagination made flesh by my person ( see above ), an occasional entity I find quite necessary to embody in these dumb, fascistic times (no matter how ‘horrifying’ some of my old friends and family may find it), performed at a Tokyo cabaret this last Saturday night, singing a slowed down semi-acappella piano version of Kate Bush’s yearnful song from 1978, The Man With The Child In His Eyes.

It was an incantation : an exorcism; pure catharsis.

The scent: :  Dior Poison Esprit de Parfum Proche; Annick Goutal Gardenia Passion, and Roja Dove Tuberose Parfum.

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NARCISSE NOIR by CARON (I9II)

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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 deleteriou…

Source: WHITE NARCISSUS : : : NARCISSE BLANC by CARON (1927)

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POIS DE SENTEUR DE CHEZ MOI de CARON, VINTAGE EXTRAIT ( I927)

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THE YEARNING : : : : BOHEA BOHEME by MONA DI ORIO (2016):

 

 

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If I have criteria when judging a new perfume, they are probably these:

 

 

a) does it smell good? does it smell beautiful ? (as highly subjective as talking about music)

b) is it well-made, with solid materials? (more objectively verifiable I would say)

c) does it say something? does it evoke something? is it original, unusual, idiosyncratic?

 

 

 

 

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This perfume by Mona Di Orio (the second posthumous release by current in-house perfumer Jeroen Oude Sogtoen) does for me basically fulfill the above objectives; a shadowy, umbral, and emotional smoked tea fragrance based on the scent of bohea tea from the Wuyi mountains in China that takes me to another place.

 

There is something very melancholic, even elegiac (post-colonial guilt?) about this scent. I think it is perhaps it is the note of poplar buds – a very distinctive, medicinal smell that I and my father love to experience in Autumn: a peculiar, spiced, aromatic note that takes this blend beyond the usual confines of the niche mossed boisé.

 

Familiar, woody accords anchor the delicately pine-fumed tea leaves (oak, boxwood, juniper, sandalwood), while a greener, evocative accord of iris root, bergamot and chamomile then smother the cold mountain earth below with warmth; a smooth, radiating osmanthus and beeswax note at the centre of the scent that hugs the blend together with a distant,  understated soulfulness.

 

 

 

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Bohea Boheme is a perfume that would smell great on my brother. Greg, as sensitive a person as you are likely to meet, loves anything related to tea and tobacco leaves, bonfires, early twentieth century British, and though this scent doesn’t have much projection (part of its appeal), I am quite sure that it would hover about his person, should he choose to wear it as he goes about his London days, in a nostalgic, but unplaceable, aura of bygone elegance and longing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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John Ovington's Tea Essay, 1699

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ROSE ATLANTIC by D. S & DURGA (2016)

 

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When you live in the perfumed world I do, it can come as a sudden jolt to the senses to smell something so patently synthesized to smell ozonic, oceanic: searingly ultra-modern and fresh.

 

Rose Atlantic, a name that piques my aesthetics, is just that: roses awash in sea spray and sunlight. Lunging, zesting rose notes, doused in citrus provide an enlivening beginning, while underneath, a perturbing array of notes ( ‘salt spray rose accord’, ‘dune grass’, muscone and ‘salt grass’) provide the plausibly oceanographic backdrop.

 

Clean, oblivious  (an obvious paen to the Great Outdoors and the yachting life), this brisk, well-made perfume is not something I could ever wear myself – it made me feel like an alien when I had it on my skin, reptilian, cold, moist – but I can definitely imagine quite pleasurably encountering it on some hale, North American optimist – all perfect white teeth and smiling clean new sports clothes – as he or she hits the water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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VIOLETS by BERDOUES, BORSARI, PENHALIGONS, BROSSEAU

 

 

“As violets so be I recluse and sweet”

 

(‘Who hath despised the day of small things?’ Rossetti)

 

This is the legacy…

Source: VIOLETS by BERDOUES, BORSARI, PENHALIGONS, BROSSEAU

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VIOLETTE PRECIEUSE de CARON

                                          November 1992.     I was twenty one and …

Source: VIOLETTE PRECIEUSE de CARON

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PINK AND FLUFFY: : INSOLENCE eau de toilette by GUERLAIN (2006) – review II

 

 

 

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In my old review of Guerlain’s Insolence, I describe my first, initial memories of experiencing this pink ultraviolet vanilla with bemusement.

 

I can still see myself outside Yokohama’s Takashimaya on a cold winter’s night and actually laughing, so over the top, harsh, swirling and unwearable I found it to be.

 

And yet the other day, a beautiful, sun filled afternoon I spent by myself in glorious solitude scouring the junk shops in downtown Tokyo (heaven on earth when you are in the right mood and have been stuck down in the sticks teaching pre-examination classes for a solid month), I came across a full bottle of this luscious Guerlain little treat for just 1,400 yen (about twelve dollars, under ten pounds), smelled it again, and just knew on the spot that had to have it.

 

I now kind of think that I maybe do actually love it. Spraying it onto the back of my hand as the wind blew around me at Asagaya station –  the train delayed for thirty minutes by yet another suicide –  this sweet, irisian violet with lashings of hair spray and fruit formed a bunny pink halo of comfort  around me like the softest, most succoring blanket.

 

Dryer sheets; felt, fabric-softened baby grows, orange blossomed-vanilla;  love.

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