Monthly Archives: May 2022

The general global mood is very far from celebratory at the moment – for very obvious reasons – even if personally I can’t deny I am truly enjoying the beginnings of summer. Weather-wise, as we come out of winter and enter the warmer months before they get sweltering, at this time of year I often find myself hankering for a mid-point between the heavierness of the hibernation perfumes and the freshness of flowers : some anchoring, still perhaps a hint of darkness (the hallmark of the chic chypre?) – but not too weighed down or white flower euphoric.

Sydney-based botanical perfumer Samuel Gravan’s delicate creations are ideal for this time of year and capture precisely some of what I am craving above. Vetiver Absolute, a scent that I would say is based more on the Indian patchouli that lies at its heart, but indeed paired beautifully with a dry, clear vetiver – is a light, herbaceous perfume initially (notes of lime, basil, juniper, bergamot and lavender) that once settled, becomes a delightfully subtle, but long lasting and enigmatic, aromatic patchouli (with notes of pine needles and cedar) that puts me in mind of some of the early L’Artisan Parfumeur perfumes like Vetiver and Patchouli – long gone, but still very much missed by the likes of myself. Those scents were extraordinarily ‘clarified’ (rarified, even), while retaining much of their natural earthiness that edged into the stylish abstract, and Vetiver Absolute has a similar quality: walking around one afternoon with a few sprays of this scent on I felt that the perfume was doing exactly what the perfumer say sit does (‘elegant, comforting, grounding’) – and I would like to get a bottle.

We all need a little gravitas in our scent collections sometimes and Decadence, another perfume in the Samuel Gravan collection is more tactful than its name might suggest (and mercifully, smells nothing like the horrifying perfume by Marc Jacobs). Like Vetiver Absolute, this refined and cultivated, very natural smelling rose leather maintains a playful weightlessness throughout its development, even when anchored pricklingly with a perfect patchouli note that is melded effortlessly with the rose. The top notes of the perfume – lemon, basil, mandarin, black pepper and cardamom – are fleeting and less essential than what happens next for me, but the incense in the base rounded off with a touch of vanilla make for a dose of the properly dry chypric – this one will give you a very elegant – but not overeffusive – sillage.

Another complexly chypric rose leather patchouli incense perfume I have come across and rather enjoyed recently is the ridiculously named ‘ManRose’ by esteemed Italians Etro – who do make a lot of good scents, it does have to be said, so we will forgive them this gauche and clumsy name just this once. I picked a pristine boxed bottle of this up cheaply the other day from a second hand clothes shop in Yokohama thinking that one of us could wear it when feeling darkrosey, but on me, despite all bergamot and elemi resin clustering the Turkish rose essence in the heart, there was something rather flat – for a similar vibe I would rather wear vintage Voleur De Roses or my Tiziana Terenzi Orion, which is brasher and has a hint of pineapple, red currant, birch and thyme along with the rose and patchouli and is good for hotter days out when I am feeling assertive – but surprisingly on D, who is not usually a rose person, somehow the notes of geranium and Sichuan pepper along with the freshness of the cardamom (one of his very favourite tastes and smells in the world) really made the central rose theme smell very alive on him, robust and almost juicy : he thus seems game for trying this perfume when we go out on Saturday – as I think I would find a scent trail of this one rather dashing.

For a darker, more gothic rose (much darker, actually), Dawn Spencer Hurwitz’s excellent recent Halfeti rose, based around the concept of the actual black Turkish roses of that name – which apparently do actually exist (see pictured above) is the perfect shroud of summer, when you are perhaps not feeling up to pretending to be bright and cheerful with everything that is going on and want a floral that smells more serious. Ultimately, while quite unsmiling in temperament, you might call it solemn, even, this perfume also smells undeniably gorgeous : unyielding, not changing nor developing very much on the skin, but if you like the central theme, as I do : rich, deep clay-like Turkish rose absolutes and ottos fused with oud (but in a ratio I can tolerate, and I hate oud – here it is a soft, animalic echo rather than a bludgeon); resins, incense and a touch of galbanum, you may, like me, enjoy the morose, luxuriant seamlessness of a perfume that surrounds your person, and your mood, like night mists descending on a rose garden.

Are we now seriously talking about Russian missiles destroying the entire UK ?

(photos by Michael Judd)

Today was quite problematic ( aren’t most days ?)……………………… but in many ways, extremely enjoyable.

The scent in question : Hermes Vetiver Tonka

A regular drinker of coffee, I sometimes also find myself craving the essence of coffea arabica and robusta in perfume : but only when it doesn’t actually smell like coffee. Last week in Yokosuka, suddenly in the mood for the more spring-ambered balsamic, I swooned over myself in pleasure wearing an instinctively grabbed Serge Lutens Cèdre (an amber tuberose) all over one arm, and L’Artisan Parfumeur’s phenomenal Eau Navigateur – allegedly the first perfume ever to use coffee absolute in its formulation – all over the other : it smelled great. Navigateur is one of those double-edged bottles of happiness and melancholy for me, though; sad in the sense that each precious time I decide to use it, it means there is less for the future : our bottle is now down to its last eighth. I can’t waste this any more : such an exquisitely, intuitively built perfume by the late Jean Laporte (who I personally think was a very underrated genius) – that it somehow manages to be both light as air – like blue skies and sunlight in the desert – and yet irreplaceably warm; soft; enveloping and enigmatic, with its intricately filigréed notes of spice; coffee; incense; rum, myrrh and other resins; a hint of tobacco and a delicate floral breeze (it sometimes reminds me of Chamade) – but used with such a genial deftness of touch……………to me this perfume is an out and out masterpiece. It is, unfortunately, also now very difficult to find, so I must cherish it while it lasts. While the spiced dexterity of amber and all the other ingredients is sense-prickling and inspired in this blend, the coffee note in Navigateur is, I think, ultimately what makes it – conferring a strangely unexpected and otherworldly quality. Yet it somehow never smells especially coffeeish; more a feeling; an aromatic lift – perhaps wisps of coffee aromas emanating from some unplaceable building nearby, rather than the physical, caffeined embodiment of the drink’s invigoration itself.

The weather is up and down here at the moment – summer to winter and back again from one day to the next – crazily changeable and intense. Friday, the first day of the national ‘Golden Week’, was freezing: heinous with tempestuous rains and winds, and I had all the fires on; wrapped up in sweaters and blankets and doused, and I mean doused , in about twenty sprays of the already incredibly dense and sweet Encens Suave by Matiere Premiere, an intoxicating autosuffocation that even with one spray perhaps verges on a cloying – but very natural smelling – Madagascar vanilla, benzoin and labdanum, a heart of Somalian frankincense, and unusually, a top note of fresh coffee, which I found myself nuzzling into on my knitwear with gusto on Monday, huffing like an obsessive cat; the lightness of the coffee aroma melding divinely with the incense and vanilla and making me melt. Before, with this scent, my nose had been focusing more on the vanilla and incense that dominate; but now that one’s nasal hairs have unearthed the fresher coffee nuances (once you smell something you can’t unsmell it) Encens Suave has the chance to potentially become one of the Beloveds – and I will have to savour it just a little more carefully. The scent also lingers magnificently, and that is another quality that I hold dear in a perfume – when I pick up my clothes the next day and just want to put the same ones on again they smell so good.

A friend of mine recently went through a six month caffeine-free period for health reasons rather than out of choice, and came to the ultimate conclusion that life was crap without it. I am also addicted to coffee, but try to limit myself to two cups a day now to avoid too much overstimulation – overdosing because of the cravings and the deliciousness only leads to jittery regrets and upset stomachs. It is definitely better in moderation – and for the powerful antioxidant factor, which is another reason I drink it (we all need our excuses), only ever the real thing, never ‘instant’, which I would only ever drink as a desperate last resort. It also needs to be a good bean; well rendered; hot enough (vital – must be piping) and presented in a nice vessel to get the Chapman approval. Fortunately, Japan does coffee extremely well in all the above regards, so I am usually pretty satisfied.

Are you also a coffee aficionado (and who isn’t?) If so, I would like to know what other coffee perfumes you would recommend as they have got under my skin. I am sure that in the niche world, there must be quite a few interesting numbers that fallen beneath my radar over the years: I like Tom Ford’s Café Rose, thought Aftelier Cologne’s Cafe Tuberosa was interesting, and was also an early champion of Diptyque’s bizarre but curiously alluring aquatic coffee, roasted sesame and apple blossom scent Florabellio, which I once enjoyed throughout a trip to Cambodia. I would like to be familiar with other, unusual perfumes that contain this note (not too compressedly though ) if you have any recommendations. I am rarely, if ever, drawn to the ‘designer’ gourmand popular style by Valentino/Versace/ Dolce & Gabbana et al, nor even A*Men, with all their myriads of overdosed notes that just feel clogged up with woods and oversugared commerce – perfumes that just ‘hedge their bets’ by throwing everything into the blender and coming out thick, staid and overconventional (but if you know of any standouts of these nature I am open to try them: there are always exceptions…..)

At the same time, I am not interested in the very literal smell of Cappuccino and espresso perfumes either – I spill enough drinks over myself as it is, being one of the clumsiest people in the world – and so in that sense I have often unwillingly ‘worn’ the smell of coffee plenty of times in my adult life throughout the workday having upturned my late morning mug onto my suit. I want the coffee note to play an intriguing ‘supporting role’, ideally, in an unusual and original, even underhand, way even if sometimes, the more ‘out there’ uses of the coffee note can be really quite peculiar. Lush’s Confetti, for example, combines coffee with a pungently synthetic ‘pear drop’ note and a rich, natural rose oil over hysterically sweet, powdered almond violets – the kind of crude and unimaginable perfume that could have certain swathes of the population chundering in pink plastic buckets it is so weird and headache inducingly acid-sugared — and yet there is still something very addictive about it that means I would never part with my bottle. I wear it. And let it linger in the room that I am writing in right now: there is nothing else quite like it. Billed by the company as a wedding day perfume, though, I really wouldn’t ever recommend this usage of Confetti on the day itself, as you might end up inducing your father to faint as he walks you down the aisle.

Another coffee perfume I have rather liked recently, to my surprise, is Byredo’s Mumbai Noise – probably my favourite in their range so far, and a potential buy, even if it has proved to be polarizing for a lot of people. The notes of contention are the bitter oud / ‘amber’ in the base, which I can imagine becoming a deal breaker for me ( I have yet to try it on skin )- but nicely entwined with a rich coffee and sweet, liqueurish davana absolute, normally also a note I would avoid – over amber, spices and sandalwood and with an overall atmosphere of friendliness and generosity that I know would be moodboosting: : the whole just brims with positivity. I have liked it both times that I have gravitated towards it on the department store shelf. Where Byredo perfumes are often, in my experience, so acridly woody you are immediately transformed into a creosote-coated plank upon one spray, each iron nail drilled brutally right into your head (probably why a lot of the die-hard hardcore Byredo-Heads are, unlike me, vocally less impressed with this less aggressive release – really, though, I could never in a million years take such wooded intensity on my skin for even a few seconds as I would just feel blood-poisoned ) —- Mumbai Noise, in contrast, is a new sensation for me : far mellower; rounded — aromatically full — and, at least on first impressions, just edging towards the sweet.