It’s uncommon for
me employ the term ‘the best’. ‘The best’ is a grand declaration that allots
influence and superiority to it’s recipient. However, when Jovoy’s Psychédélique found me, I found the best ‘true’ patchouli. So enchanted
am I, that I will be creating a new page for Odiferess called The Best. On this
page (which I’ll post this week on the page bar) you’ll find what I believe to
be the greatest scents of their genre. They’ll appear rarely, as the Eureka
moment occurs very infrequently. Here’s the Inception:
Jovoy - Psychédélique
The aroma of patchouli suggests
all of the following;
‘Crusties’ at festivals, typified
by white folk with dreadlocks, art students (I once was one, I can make this
sweeping statement with authority!), art studios e.g linseed oil, turpentine
and oil paints, goths, vintage shops, joss sticks, dirty hair/ greasy scalp, old
leather jackets, narcotic, euphoric, sedative, erotic, soil and decomposing
leaves in Autumn, damp/fustiness/junk shop books, barnyards, sex in the 60s (I
imagine Nico of Velvet Undergound fame reeking wonderfully of this note).
Niko, the blonde bombshell of Warhol's darling band.
This demure little plant crops up
everywhere in perfumery. In recent years it replaced Oakmoss as an IFRA
friendly ingredient for chypres prompting the rise of best selling ‘fruitchoulis’
and frequently providing the ‘noir’ in the noirs. The big cosmetics and
designer houses have of course used it for years, Aromatics Elixir, Dioressence,
Givenchy Gentlemen and Cabochard to name a few of the classics that reek of the
earthy and heady qualities of this spirit in a bottle. Many of the niche
perfumeries have a patchouli in their range, the dry and bitter Patchouli Patch
by L’ Artisan Parfumeur and the leathery Patchouli 24 by Le Labo are good
examples of edgy interpretations.
What rarely occurs is the use of
patchouli simply as patchouli. There’s not a lot of difference between a bottle
of Jovoy’s Psychédélique and a bottle of pure patchouli essential oil. So why
bother spending the extra £80 or so? It’s worth it for the journey. Psychédélique
is a transformative perfume that develops and morphs within it’s wear,
providing a fragrant ride through distinct states. For this reason, it’s
impossible to grow bored of an over familiar note.
My mum, ardent patchouli lover,
upon sampling Psychédélique exclaimed “cow muck”! That’s the second time cow
muck has been spluttered to me on a sampling session, the first was in relation
to a sample of castoreum fragrance oil. I don’t quite get cow muck from this
fragrance but I do get my mum’s point. It’s feral ad a little bit filthy. The
opening shares the same barnyard quality that a potent Shiraz wine emits i.e. a
beautiful but slightly beastly whiff. One of it’s prominent notes is labdanum,
often a component of what perfumers pair with vanilla to become an ‘amber’. As
the vanilla doesn’t play much of a role in the opening, the labdanum appears as
a leathery nuance, could this be the cow hide that connotes the feral whiff?
The slightly dirty opening soon
calms into the heart of the scent, where we feel the truly spiritual side of
patchouli. There’s a good reason why it’s used in aromatherapy, rituals and
incense - it’s deeply relaxing and sensual. It’s also a little trippy, I’m once
again drawn back to Nico and her melancholically ethereal Germanic drawl
through the lyrics of All Tomorrow’s
Parties. Alike Nico’s voice there is a baritone depth and darkness to Psychédélique
that makes you want to recline in a state of semi conscious reverie, probably
wearing something from Biba.
New York Art Rock - All Tomorrow's Parties.
As we reach the dry down stage
(or perhaps in the spirit of Nico, the ‘come down’ stage), the sweetness kicks
in. Although still abundantly psychedelic, an opulent vanilla takes over and
tames the trip of this narcotic journey. In contrast to the roaring opening, it
exits our skin with tenderness.
Upon my first wear of this
extraordinary scent, I was instantly convinced that it was ‘the best’ patchouli
I’ve ever smelt. However, if confirmation were needed, this happened;
At my day job (in an inner city comprehensive),
smells abound and they are rarely good ones. Perfume has to be really quite a
phenomenon to get noticed amongst the smell of teenage feet, hormones and stagnant
air breathed by too many hundreds of people. As I walked towards the staffroom
to drink my breakfast coffee, a colleague emerged from the lift and stopped
still, wearing a look of bewilderment.
“What’s are you wearing? It’s
incredible?”
This wouldn’t be such a strange
occurrence had said colleague been the sensitive literary type that is the
English Assistant or any of the Art or Music Teachers, just hippie enough to
appreciate a good patchouli. But it wasn’t. It was an overtly laddish IT
Teacher who openly admits that his primary passions are football, fast food and
computer games, upon whom I’ve never detected a perfume. As far as I’m aware he
doesn’t even particularly like me.
So surprised was I that I don’t
think I actually managed to tell him what it was, I think I just uttered
something along the lines of “Erm.. thanks, it’s a patchouli”.
Proof indeed.
If you’re a patchouli fan, you
might like to peruse my review of a very different one, M/Mink by Byredo.
Though you’ve been warned, it’s a challenging scent! Click here to read it.