After a karaoke all nighter with colleagues, walking up the hill this morning in the freezing dawn – it was my last day of term, if not theirs – I find myself, this mellow Sunday afternoon, sprawled around the house in thick, orientalic amber mode, spraying like the last harlot; rich, spiced incense burning downstairs in the hall : no sheepish reluctance with the unguent; resin, balsam, for fear of lingering skin effects in the Japanese classroom: exposure to the innocents of the filthy musked horror of the untapped id. No. Christmas and New Year are coming, my seclusion : and I want it hot and fragrant.
What better company for the Shalimar, Reve Indien, Unum Opus, my home-doctored, dangerous Saigon cinnamon Obsession, Vaniglia Del Madagascar, all those staples, than Bengale Rouge by Liz Moore, a mulled potboiler of glowing orientalia based on the classic Shalimaresque formula of labdanum, opoponax, tonka, vanilla; orris root powdering out from the core for inner architecture, but dispensing with the flowers, the citruses and the Johnson’s and Johnson’s; ladling on the spices hard and deep beneath a big fist of honey : : sweet and moreish, skinclinging – as a dry, manly sandalwood joss stick unfurls stolidly somewhere in the distance behind your mind’s eye. The effect : a sturdying, galvanizing oriental that haunts your dreams with sensual suffocation if you wear it on the back of your hand and on your wrists as I did one night recently : interfering in the smooth running of my dreams – making them confused: more torrid ( as if that were even possible ).
22 responses to “BENGALE ROUGE by PAPILLON PERFUMERY (2019)”
I own a bottle of Papillon Bengale Rouge and love it! However, I have never put it on the back of my hand before going to sleep and perhaps I never should.
Do you also dream intensely ? I honestly found that it was invading my thought processes and influencing them a great deal while I was sleeping as it is so thckly sensual. I quite like that in a way though . The great majority of people I encounter here say they hardly even dream at all in the first place – which must be so utterly boring
I dream every night and always have since I was a child. I remember a lot of them as well.
Me too. It must be a very different life if you don’t I think.
Me as well, whereas my husband says he rarely remembers his dreams. Mine are intense and bilingual – sometimes in French, sometimes in English. Do you ever dream in Japanese?
Occasionally, even if my Japanese is crap. I don’t remember the precise content of my dreams usually after they have dissipated, but a huge humber of people I talk to in this country seem to think they literally DON’T DREAM AT ALL. Hardly ever. And what I hate about such discussions is that I am made to feel like a freak for having such a vivid dream life, when I instinctively feel it is the other way round. When I had pneumonia in 2002 I couldn’t sleep and was given a very strong sleeping pill which knocked me out like a tranquillised horse. I found it SO DISTURBING, my brain life sutured in my sleep so it was like a movie edit from falling down the sleep tunnel to being suddenly spliced to breakfast. I love the sense of travelling through something during the night, even if it can sometimes be a bumpy oneiric ride.
Well, if they never remember their dreams upon waking, that may be why they think they are not dreaming. But I’m with you, I find dreaming and remembering at least fragments is more normal. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing.
Yes: for some people. Perhaps dreaming suggests you are not working hard enough, as you are supposed to be so flayed-mule exhausted that having the luxury of letting your subconscious go a bit wild is an indication of slacking. You should be out like a light your head hits the pillow.
From what you’ve said about Japanese culture, I’m guessing you are exactly right.
But everyone dreams……….(don’t they?) I am basing what I am saying on permanently burnt out colleagues (plus, I must admit, permanently burnt out students….). Any other Japanese person reading this would be appalled that I could even make such a contentious suggestion.
I know that my own dream life is extraordinarily rich, though – Duncan’s, for instance, is less over the top as we often compare notes. Mine are usually on an insanely grand scale.
I enjoy most of my dreams. Sometimes they also help me make certain decisions.
Really? I have never had that. Mine are just outlandish every time – incredible (and Duncan loves hearing about them in the morning), but I can’t really get very much wisdom from them (I don’t think……..although obviously, sometimes inner truths are interestingly revealed within them).
I’m wearing Bengale Rouge today – I love it, and I am not a fan of Shalimar. I love the spices and resins. Shalimar smells like petrol on me for some reason.
As for dreams, I dream intensely most nights, sometimes in French, sometimes in English. My husband says he rarely remembers his. Do you ever dream in Japanese?
Shalimar doesn’t always work for me either, and I am quite fussy about the vintage – I have actively disliked modern eau de parfums for example; the bergamot/castoreum combo can be repulsive in modernised editions, whereas the original is just so creamy with no fault lines. Bengale Rouge is definitely more spicy and resinous as you say – more androgynous I would say, and it left a properly hefty sultry dry down on my me which was almost TOO erotic: I think this one needs to be worn with caution!
Love the idea of having dreams influenced by fragrance worn to bed. I unfailingly slather something all over my hands, backs and palms and up onto my wrists right before I get under the covers, so I’m lying in a thick cloud of scent around my whole head. I’ll even cup my hands, stick my nose right in there, and just inhale deeply until I fall asleep. I have pretty cosmic dreams usually anyway, but never drew a direct cause-effect connection. Hmm. Might have to consider it now.
Bengale Rouge sounds like perhaps a little much right before shut-eye, if it interferes “in the smooth running of (your) dreams – making them confused: more torrid ( as if that were even possible ).” Still sounds like a fantastic fragrance, one I think I’d love with the right timing: safely removed from the realm of slumber.
A couple of dots on the inner thighs would do the trick instead.
I am now so intrigued by your exquisite description of this that I must get some.
I would most definitely parfum myself with it before sleep and see what tales unfold in the deep reaches of sleep.
Horny ones I should imagine!
I mean, it depends on whether you need another amber or not. A slightly more masculine, spicier one. It definitely is the real deal though I think – it goes all the way in the Shalimar manner: no foul synthetic sandalwoods in the finale to mess things up. Oriental central!
Now I must try it!! Oriental for days is my thing
Me too. I am doused in Heritage and Reve D’Indien at present – a vanilla power bomb and AM LOVING IT.