I always report on the osmanthus. Whether it is one or two days early or late (by and large, it usually comes out predictably on October the 1st): this year it is in full flower three weeks early. A strange but gorgeous sensation: fuming the air with its persistent floral apricot like a tangential dream from another universe, the scent as dense as a petit fromage à l’abricot, creamy and benign; clear; yet almost eerie in its insistence. It floats on the air, and fuses with your thoughts, a floral accompaniment to each inhalation of mid-September air.
We decided to keep it local again this Sunday, going no further than down the hill, finding another undiscovered coffee shop with delectable cakes, before deciding, then, to go and have a look around Tokei-ji, a temple we haven’t been in for a while. Founded in 1285 (and it really feels it; I sensed something viscerally ancient while slowly making my way through the grounds in the mosquito-heavy humidity, osmanthus in every breath;) a wetness that could prove oppressive if it didn’t so perfectly go with the surroundings. Mossed trees and thatched rooves; wooden houses; this sanctuary was once the only temple where battered and abused women of the period could seek refuge from their tormentors; after three years on site, they were granted divorce.
D was wearing Nº12, the new perfume by Puredistance. And it smelled heavenly. Also containing osmanthus absolute, along with orange blossom and a touch of vanilla, the powdery, chypric sillage of the base note trailed him in a way that, given the visual and spiritual beauty of the Buddhist precinct, alongside the deep wet green of the lush, almost hopelessly serene gardens, added a dry, melancholic pathway back to him as he took these photographs; the osmanthus trees leaking their perfume silently into the air as the complex patchouli and oakmoss floral chypre androgynously insinuated itself into the droplets of air and my brain. I was completely entranced, and haven’t had an olfactory experience of this blissful intensity for quite a while.
Granted, there is a lot going on. After all, this scent is intended to be the jewel in the crown of the set of twelve perfumes that will now form the permanent collection by Puredistance: thus perfumer Natalie Feisthauer was commissioned with the responsibility of creating a perfume that would leave an absolute and unmistakeable impression. And it does. On my skin, there is, admittedly, a slight, almost saline rinseishness that comes from the initial tang of oudh-like ambroxan flashed with bright mandarin, bergamot, coriander and cardamom – a fresh opening that is rather dazzling (‘quite grapefruity!’ D exclaimed) with a Montale-like gleam and immediacy, with probable nods to the Middle Eastern markets. Soon veering off course from typical expectations, though, this attention-grabbing opening accord cedes to a rather intriguing contrast between a Faberge-fougère-like accord of powdery heliotrope, orris, geranium, hedione, tonka, oakmoss and ambrette, set against a more classical, Aromatics Elixirish rose, ylang ylang, vetiver, sandalwood, and crucially, patchouli – the key ingredient in the perfume, beautifully used – to form a characterful, long-lasting modern chypre; it is an emotively rich cushioning that is distinctive and frankly gorgeous – particularly when smelled from afar. The Amsterdam niche house, now this fragrance is complete, will be henceforth referring to its full collection as ‘The Magnificent 12’, and in this instance, I certainly cannot say that I disagree. On Sunday, in all the perfumed air, I was in heaven.