Adventures In Scent At 4160 Tuesdays: Day 1, The Magnificent Wall Of Wonders

Last weekend I ventured to London to visit my first real life perfumery, the multi-coloured abode of indie brand 4160 Tuesdays.

I was familiar with 4160 Tuesdays after featuring it’s (more or less) self taught perfumer, Sarah McCartney in a feature exploring the spirit of British perfumery last summer. You can read it by clicking here.

I was primarily visiting to attend a Saturday workshop on the chypre genre, but Sarah kindly allowed me to call in the day prior to have a nosey around with my camera.  I fully intended to shoot a fantastic batch of photos, with my best camera in hand (rather than my ‘travelling light’ camera phone) that would beautifully illustrate the nature of a perfumery - a pictorial treat for my readers. What actually happened was this:

I arrived, we had a fine natter on her mum’s vintage sofa over some top notch coffee, said hello to her assistant Agnieszka who was urgently bottling by hand and then I was let loose upstairs.

I was immediately faced with ‘The Wall of Scent’.

A small section of the wall featuring citrus and Vanilla scents

Imagine that you are faced with EVERY scent that you’ve heard about but never tried, the vintage mythical ‘scent unicorns’ that have long since been discontinued, those which you have curiously stalked on ebay and never quite got round to blind buying, the hoards of rare bottles that you found in a scent shop in Mallorca but couldn’t spend enough time with because your partner had started sighing with boredom half an hour ago, the historical wonders that Turin and Sanchez raved about. It was all there.

The top shelf of the vintage section (there is a huge cabinet full underneath that I forget to photograph in my state of shock, my journalistic abilities having been smacked in the face after confrontation with YSL's In Love Again.

I dumped my camera on the floor and stuck my greedy hands into the vintage section of the wall, in fact a sliding glass windowed cabinet. Had it not slid smoothly I’d likely have smashed it with my bare hands. I lost my ability to speak and made a sort of whispery “unnnhh” as I picked up a perfectly preserved bottle of Givenchy lll. Close by sat a teeny bottle of Schiaparelli’s Shocking “wooah”, Dior’s original Eau Suavage “wow” and Houbigant’s Chantilly “ooohee”. It was difficult to allot a proper sniff at these grand elderly ladies and gentlemen because I was transfixed by what was behind them – very old Guerlain boxes. You’ll recognise the squiggly geometric lines in the picture. But take a closer look and regard the misty blue box, yup, 1930s L’Heure Bleue! You’d imagine that by now it would be reduced to the scent of nail varnish but this Goliath bottle was unsealed by Sarah herself and smelt like L’Heure Bleue on steroids, an enormous wet vat of history, perfectly preserved. Shockingly, her 1930s bottle of Mitsouko EDT smelt almost identical to today’s formulation, who’d have thought it?

Sarah McCartney pictured with her beloved treasure - L' Heure Bleue

Also nestling among the mythical Guerlains was a beautiful blue crystal flacon of Guet Apens, the impossibly rare discontinued chypre that brings unfeasible amounts of moolah on Ebay.

Somewhere around the time that I saw the Guet Apens, I became overwhelmingly hot and had to de-robe. My cardigan and silk scarf were thrown to join my forgotten camera on the floor and a sip of water allowed me to continue.

Atop of the vintage section was a little tray of samples, recognisably 4160 Tuesdays, some with names that I had not heard of. I enquired about ‘A midsummer Night’s Breeze’.

“What’s this Sarah?”

“Oh, it failed IFRA completely. You can have it.”

Stunned and grateful, I took a whiff and pocketed the little bottle of the distinctly ‘breezy’ and outdoorsy scent. My feelings of excitement were more than the fume junkie’s standard “I’ve got perfume, woohoo!”. They were increased by the fact that I had been gifted a unique scent that violated IFRA regulations ‘completely’.  This made me happy.

Although there are many delightful reasons to sign up for a day of making perfume at 4160 Tuesdays, massively violating IFRA is one of the most seductive. As Sarah said, IFRA allow just a minuscule 0.07% concentration of Oakmoss to be included in a scent. This is because 1 to 3% of perfume users develop (get ready to be worried), eeek, a rash! As Oakmoss is the essential base to what we know as a chypre perfume, this restriction is a bore. But if you are making it for your personal use, you can include as much as you damn well like. I discovered that I can apply a whopping 20% concentration of Oakmoss on my skin without it giving me a rash/the plague.

Oakmoss, apparently dangerous enough you a slight rash

After spending around an hour ogling the vintage section of The Wall Of Scent, I pondered how much of the rest of it I wouldn’t experience on that day. There’s simply too much to take in. I estimate that I smelt about 1/8^th of the collection. I wasn’t concerned that I’d miss out on smelling plentiful bottles of niche brands, that’s an easily possible activity that you can undertake at Les Senteurs, Bloom and Roullier White. For me, the ‘must smells’ were the recent and ancient popular scents that we simply can’t test anywhere because they are not currently stocked in mainstream department stores or indie shops, such as Laura Biagotti’s Roma or the Lagerfeld Kapsule scents. 

Sarah offers afternoon group sessions to explore The Wall of Scent, priced at £60. This includes your choice of a 30ml bottle of 4160 Tuesday’s scent (worth £40), a guided tour through the various genres and notes, leisurely sniffing and the devoted camaraderie of other obsessive fumies. This is all topped off with a glass of fizz and cakes whilst lounging around on some funky vintage sofas.

Who would I recommend it for?

Newbies can learn a great deal about the history of scent and gain a clear idea of their personal preferences. They’ll get chance to do this in a friendly, relaxed environment without the pressure of sales assistants. Hardcore fumies will get to see and smell some scents that they’ve only heard and read about and may experience dizziness and a sense of euphoria. They’ll probably make an enormous list of things to buy on Ebay. Vintage fans will possibly offer up prayers to the ancient perfume gods and weep quietly into their Liberty print handkerchiefs in admiration.

Here’s a link if you want to join in: http://www.4160tuesdays.com/4160tuesdaysscentshop/prod_2831585-The-Wall-of-Scent.html

A report on day 2 of my scent adventure will be posted later this week where I’ll be discussing Saturday’s adventures in creating my own chypre. I apologise for my rubbish photographs, as you can imagine, I was distracted!

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Review: Jul et Mad - Terrasse a St-Germain, Recollections Of The Scent Of Love

 Jules Bastien-Lepage, Rural Love, 1882

It seems timely that as Valentine’s Day approaches, I contemplate a fragrance inspired by love - Jul et Mad’s Terrasse à St-Germain. The fragrance tells an olfactory story of the moment that the couple behind the brand first encountered each other (no prizes for guessing that it was a breathless moment on a pavement in the Left Bank of Paris). I’ve had my sample for some time now and despite judging it to be one of the most achingly beautiful scents that has found me in the last year, I’ve found it awkward to write about. This is why:

Jul et Mad is a couple. ‘Mad’ is Madalina, a well respected cosmetics and fragrances industry executive. ‘Jul’ is Julien, a scientist and entrepreneur. Both are extremely good looking, well educated, young, internationally travelled and high achieving. Their three perfumes are composed around key moments in their love affair, taking in alluring picturesque locations such as the streets of Paris and New York and a grand palazzo in Venice. They are exceptionally well composed perfumes, inspired by, and this is where it gets difficult – two very fortunate people having a marvellous moment in time.

Julien and Madalina

Take literature and cinema, when has a story line ever been enthralling when it features a romance that appears to be perfect? There needs to be a struggle, some conflict to overcome, a resolution to the conflict and a happy ever after/heartbreaking demise. It helps if our protagonists are wrapped up in mystery and beset by tragedy. If Juliet had moved into Romeo’s place shortly after their besotted first meeting and had a brilliant time living it up around Europe, there wouldn’t be a story. Although I find this couple’s narrative beguiling, I desire to know more.

It brought me to thinking about the scents of my own great romance, which alike that of Romeo and Juliet’s, had a rather tragic ending. I won’t be discussing much of the tragic ending the blogosphere but I will reveal some of the moments of splendour and consider, what did our love smell like?

My ex husband, ‘J’, truly was my partner. If I could summon a definition of love, I would describe it as a feeling of utter contentment, where there is no sense of a ‘relationship’ to be analysed and pondered, simply a pairing where two people create an adventure and a life truly lived. In this I recall the feeling of being alive, waking up with an overwhelming sense of optimism and exhilaration. Even if the day ahead would simply consist of a walk along the river park, a marvel at the uniquely fudge coloured potentially hermaphrodite duck, a vinegary wrap of chippy chips and a lazy peruse of the newspapers, with J by my side, this day would still feel blissful.

We were young when we met, just 16. I was at art college with his brother, through whom I met J. We first encountered each other on the dance floor of Jenks, a local indie nightclub in Blackpool. Although a vague memory, we danced in a much crazed state to The Fall’s weirdly bendy single ‘Telephone Thing’. Weirdly bendy more or less summed up J. He was a deeply creative and inventive soul with a soaring imagination which gave him both his magnificent sense of wonder and also his debilitating mental health problems. He didn’t think like other people, and for that, he was enchanting.

J had a really strong scent of man. He didn’t look particularly masculine with his halo of golden brown curls, his pretty ‘cartoon cow’ eyelashes surrounding limpid eyes and a love of vintage girls shirts from the 70s which he could pull off with his slender frame and quirky attitude. He must have had really strapping hormones as showers cleaned him but didn’t take away his musk. He had a definite warm and heady personal smell that I can still recall if I try really hard to bring it back.

We lived in a small Victorian mill town in the hills of West Yorkshire named Otley. Looming large behind our house was the Chevin, a grand hill topped with dense pine woods. We played amongst the pines most weeks, they were our ‘set’ had our romance been a stage production. We picnicked atop a bit of ‘sticky out’ cliff and gazed down at what felt like our kingdom. He kissed me in the woods in the manner of Lady’s Chatterley’s gamekeeper and reduced me to terrified giggles whilst tearing after me in the twilight shrieking of the Judderman. Today, so many years later, the smell of pine needles and mossy bark still transports me to place of both elation and melancholy in equal parts.

Our sticky out picnic rock

Our first home was a damp and chilly rented flat above a stinking fish and chip shop. Our back yard wore the sad must of mouldy potatoes. I have never felt happier.

J loved perfume, perhaps as much as me. With York in easy reach by train, many a day was spent rooting through it’s fusty junk shops and ‘high reward’ charity shops. Nowadays they are filled with terrible cheap clothing from Asda and Primark, but years ago they’d yield bountiful treasure in the form of characterful 50s silk scarves and J’s aforementioned beloved flamboyant shirts. York possessed a Crabtree and Evelyn shop that sold divine masculine colognes. J bought West Indian Lime Cologne and the original Sandalwood (oh my that was a thing of beauty).

Sadly, these perfumes later concealed the smell of his breakfast-booze, a regular prop for facing a ‘down-day’ in the horrific grip of bi-polar disorder, that eventually led to our demise.

Gulp.. Back to Terrasse à St-Germain:

What I recall most clearly about the onset of our romance was the extraordinary feeling of optimism. Citrus notes have always uplifted me, which is probably why they feature so prominently in my collection.

Terrasse à St-Germain projects radiant beams of tangerine, grapefruit and rhubarb, a metaphor for the fizzing excitement of the ‘first glance’ at a future beloved. The floral heart reveals a vintage sensation, perhaps invoking memory and sentimentality, after all, shared histories build love and life. In the note descriptor, a ‘blue’ rose is mentioned. I have no idea what a blue rose smells like but I like to think that it hints at melancholy, bringing balance to the euphoric citrus notes. No romance exists without sadness, even within a blissful 70 year long marriage, someone will ultimately die and leave the other bereft. The base combined of sandalwood and Indonesian patchouli is detectable from start to drydown, with the patchouli delivering it’s familiar associations of a damn fine time in the clutches of bohemia. Maybe it speaks of the late nights of excess that decorate the narrative of the commencement of love stories?

It’s virtually impossible to describe the overall effect of this perfume. It’s the blogger’s nemesis, in that it’s seamless. How do you describe the perfection of a marriage of truly harmonious notes? Perhaps that’s why I find it tough to engage with the tale of Madalina and Julien, they too appear to have achieved a perfect harmony.

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Finally, I leave you with a truly magnificent love song, The Birds In Your Garden by Pulp.

Perles de Lalique Sample Giveaway, Winner Announed!

According to the mystic depths of my woolly hat, the winner's name is..

Keith Chirnside

Who commented at the facebook page. Happy Sunday Keith.

Review: Clinique (Prescriptives) Calyx: The Resurrection Of The Fruit Salad

The close of 2013 saw the re-launch of Calyx, a fragrance that stomped all over it’s much maligned fruity floral genre with steel capped DM boots. Formerly manufactured by Prescriptives (an Estee Lauder Group company who disappeared into the murky depths of ‘internet only’), this long lost perfume has been resurrected under the brand Clinique. It is in effect – a zombie perfume, that which is back from the dead.

It’s not alone. That’s the thing about Zombies – they multiply. Whilst in the films they are resurrected as a rapidly decomposing reanimated (and therefore worse) version of their former living selves, it seems that perfume zombies are frequently making a come back as a ‘poshed up’ version, often with a much increased price tag and a fancy new bottle.

Recent Zombies of the posh variety have included Carven’s delightfully mossy green chypre – Ma Griffe which reappeared in a remarkably classy bottle, accompanied by a winsome sister in the form of Le Parfum, created by Perfumer de jour – Francis Kurkdijan. A 100 ml bottle of ‘new’ Ma Griffe costs about £75, whereas 100 ml of ‘old’ Ma Griffe is easily available on Ebay and at dilapidated seaside town chemist shops for about £30. I have no idea if they smell like each other or not, only that when I wore a sample of the new version to a summer wedding last year I felt elegant and a bit snooty.

Caron’s Zombies are walking the earth too, with Bellodgia regenerating as ‘Pui Bellodgia’ and Parfum Sacre becoming, well a less lipsticky version of Parfum Sacre, and much the better for it it is too.  Again, the price tag has jumped unfeasibly high for the reforms. In similarity to Carven, they too have gained a new sibling, in the form of My Ylang, a startlingly vibrant floral that sits high up on my want list.

Back to Calyx.

I don’t really recall the original very clearly, although I should given that it was enormously popular in my teenage years, not quite in the league of CK One and The Body Shop’s Dewberry Oil, but well loved by a generation.  Note to teenage self: don’t put Dewberry Oil inside your New Balance rave trainers, it will make them smell worse than the effects of twelve hour’s dancing inside a sweaty industrial unit..

According to Clinique’s publicity department, it contains exactly the same notes as it’s former self, of which there are many. It’s essentially a highly tart tropical fruit salad with a strong lily of the valley green astringency. Despite not being generally fond of Muguet, I like it enormously. Tropical scents tend to expel an eau de naff, being essentially sweet, fruity and a bit giggly. They are the starting point of teenage girlhood, for those who have yet to appreciate the eroticism of a heavily spiced oriental or the grown-up glamour of a dry chypre. Even worse, they are a frequent sub genre of the celebrity scent, touted by C list celebrities who like their fans to believe that they smell of lurid sweets and sugar. However, Calyx exists for grown ups being entirely devoid of anything resembling ‘sweet’. This is how it wears:

Upon the first spray, you are hit by an enormous whiff of passion fruit, sharp, tart passion fruit, not that of the gourmand desert variety. This soon wears off leaving a multi-faceted fruit salad. Again, not sweet, more lush in an aquatic manner. You can sense cucumber, melon and all sorts of other watery delights. This is topped with a slightly herbal quality, essentially the scent of ‘green’. Cassia and mint notes project a sensation of bracing radiance that uplifts you in similarity to the effect of a citrus cologne. An hour or so into it’s wear, floral and mossy notes dominate the fruit. For oakmoss chypre lovers, this is where you’ll feel a great sense of gratification, for it is truly ‘forest floor’. The mossy quality blends seamlessly with lily of the valley, again proliferating the essence of verdant foliage. Lily of the valley tends to appear overly artificial to my nose, but here it creates a highly natural sense of the outdoors which appeals to my city-locked claustrophobia enormously.

In short, I’m impressed.

Now then Clinique, please can we bring Wrappings back to life too and resurrect it from it’s gift set grave at Harrods?

My Collection, How Much Is Enough? Plus - A Giveaway!

A popular thread on the forums of Fragrantica and Basenotes is ‘Perfume Collection Show-off’, an intriguing and addictive spot where you can ogle lovingly posed photographs of the collections of your peers. An oppositional and equally intriguing thread also often appears, entitled ‘How much is Enough?’

After viewing photos of Facebook friend Paul’s gargantuan collection (inhabiting a floor to ceiling IKEA style open shelving unit), I began to ponder my own (and much more modest) collection. I would love to be left alone with Paul’s shelving for a greedy olfactory party but if I owned it, it would be a nagging source of worry. I’d fear for all the molecular disintegration and the stress of working out “Erm.. What shall I wear today?!”.

 Paul's astounding collection

What I did find pleasing upon perusal of the photo, was the mixture of niche and high street fragrances, suggesting that Paul buys his scents without brand bias. Inevitably, we’ll be repeatedly drawn to houses that use a familiar base across a range, such as Guerlain’s infamous Guerlinade or Ormonde Jayne’s peppery wood, if we feel a desire for the base. However, the true fumie explores everything by everyone, even if costs £20 from Marks and Sparks.

Fragrantica members store their perfumes on a virtual glass shelf, each shelf contains space for ten. I have a personal ‘wobble point’ when I spill over onto shelf four. Somehow, more than thirty FBs (an abbreviation of ‘full bottles’ used by the community to exclude decants and samples) seems overly decadent to me and as Vanessa of Bonkers About Perfume suggested, we will probably be outlived by our perfumes.  This is amplified further by the fact that bloggers spend a lot of fragrant time wearing samples, hoping that the inner muse will inspire us to write about them. During this time our own bottles patiently wait, craving attention in the cupboard.

Fragrantica shelves

Since taking these photographs, a large bottle of Perles De Lalique arrived which further wobbled my shelf number four. As it’s an utterly beautiful keeper, something will have to go!

So I set about analysing my FB wardrobe. I divided it into 3 piles:

The A list: Beloved perfumes that I would feel comfortable wearing all the time, they complement my personality and make me consistently happy.

The B list: (specialists): Perfumes that I don’t wear very regularly but turn to for specific occasions or to create a particular mood. My ‘travelling’ scents appear here, e.g. those that I might wear in bed to take me somewhere in my imagination such as a forest or historical location.

The C list: Those that I don’t truly love but for some reason can’t get rid of, they still have a hold over me.

As you’ll see from my collection, I have wide ranging tastes, from haughty chypres to buxom orientals. Citrus features strongly, as does wood. The only missing genres are ouds and heavy gourmands, both of which I generally struggle to feel the love for. My collection has changed rapidly over recent years but is now slowing down as the abundance of samples I amass sates my thirst for smelling everything.

I apologise for the lack of correct French accents and possible incorrect spellings. As I write I’m recovering from flu, wrapped in a blanket on the sofa and frankly can’t be bothered checking in with Professor Google and his wife Madame Online International Keyboard.

Links have been set up on those that have appeared in reviews, just click on the perfume’s name to be transferred.

The A list (clockwise from the back):

Caron – Eau de Reglisse EDT (my first and my greatest niche purchase)

Dior – Escale Aux Marquises EDT

Ormonde Jayne – Ormonde Woman EDP

Trish McEvoy – Gardenia Musk No.4 EDT

Robert Piguet – Calypso EDP

Penhaligon’s – Lavandula EDP

Yves Rocher  - Cedre Bleu EDC (I am going to weep inconsolably when this discontinued exercise is the beauty of woods runs out, amazingly, it cost me £7)

Caron – Les Eaux de Caron Fraiche

Guerlain – Mitsouko EDT

The B list (clockwise from the back):

Yves Rocher – Essence Neroli EDP purse spray (behind the Guerlain mini)

Guerlain – L’ Instant de Guerlain Parfum (ltd edition bottle)

Parfums de Nicolai – L’ Eau Mixte EDT

Robert Piguet – Visa EDP (Miniature roll on)

Guerlain – Vintage Shalimar EDC (yes, it’s true, in perfect nic, wohoo!)

Guerlain – Vol de Nuit EDT (refill bottle)

Guerlain - Mitsouko EDP (I prefer the EDT, hence why this one is on my B list)

Serge Lutens – Fille en Aiguilles EDP (this would be on my A list were it not so perfect for going to bed in a forest

Guerlain – Eau Imperiale EDC

Guerlain – Habit Rouge EDT

Penhaligon’s - Cornubia EDP

Yves Rocher – Vanille Noire EDP

Guerlain – L’ Heure Bleue EDT

Mauboussin – Mauboussin EDP (this should actually be A list!)

Neal’s Yard – Pure Essence Rose No. 2 EDP

The C list (from left to right)

Guerlain – L’ Instant Magic

L’ Occitane – Eau Ravissante

Annick Goutal – Musc Nomade

Donna Karan – Essence Labdanum

Chopard – Casmir (a most peculiar oriental, but look at the bottle, how could anyone get rid of this beautiful gold minaret?)

What I would add to the collection if I could currently afford it: Jovoy – Psychedelique, Jul et Mad – Terrasse a Saint Germain, Caron – My Ylang, Neela Vermeire –Mohur, YSL – In Love Again (I tried with this one but bought a dud vintage, boo..), Cartier – Essence du Bois, Olfactive Studio – Chambre Noir, Chanel – Cristalle Eau Verte, 4160 Tuesdays – Urara’s Tokyo Café.

When I observe my collection in this detached way, I see a haul of fumes that differ wildly from each other. However, there is a distinct link – they are all (perhaps with the exception of the last two on the C list) very easily wearable and do not represent an olfactory challenge. Which is probably why I have only reviewed about a third of them for Odiferess.  Imagine trying to review Mitsouko, where would you start? This seamless ‘liquid nice’ is impossible to describe without drawing on history and mythology and turning it into a thesis. 

Although ‘wearable beauty’ defines my ownership, the avant-garde and conceptual more frequently stirs my creativity, prompting me to write about scents that I would be highly unlikely to buy a bottle of.

So dear readers, I ask you, is there a defining trait in your collection? Do you have a narrow or vast genre appreciation? Do you possess a haul to rival Paul’s creaking shelves or, alike Jean Lindsay, just one faithful signature scent?

Leaves your comments below or on the facebook page to be entered into a draw to win a  sample of my gorgeous newbie – Perles de Lalique (see, I’m already trying to get it used up!). The draw will be UK only due to our daft postal rules, as usual, sorry to my International readers but please do join in, I appreciate you!

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A Humorous Look At The Trauma of Discontinuation And A Review Of Yves Rocher, Nature Millenaire

The writing of this post began on Sunday Evening..

We possessed years of shared experiences, moments of euphoric happiness; we ate chips from a paper wrap on the seafront in Whitby, danced all night with the trannies at legendary Leeds night club – Vague, we camped and hiked in the verdant hills of North Yorkshire, lost time together in the debauchery of the fields of Glastonbury, got drunk and sang along theatrically to Kate Bush records and cosied up close in the baltic cold of my tatty flat. Then you left me.. and I can’t even remember your name.

The melancholy of discontinuation (possibly) by Picasso 

I speak not of a man, but of the fragrant hole left behind by my favourite discontinued scent. The scent was a kind of aromatic body spritz by the French natural skincare company – Decleor. It smelt of licorice, spice and citrus, I‘ve spent years trying and failing to remember it’s name. This happened some 8 or 9 years ago and the only fragrance that has offered a ghost of the memory has been Caron’s Eau de Reglisse (which is extraordinarily beautiful in it’s own right). 

Which brings me to the frantic and emotional search that is the phenomena of ‘hunt my beloved discontinued scent’, a task undertaken by thousands of fume junkies across the world. Really, we should give up and accept the fact that it’s gone. After all, it’s not like having a limb blown off on a peacekeeping army mission or the sad demise of years amassed in a loving relationship. I did spend a few (hopeless) years talking to (clueless) Decleor ladies in department stores, I even wrote several times to Decleor directly. The trouble is that my bottle ran out about a year after it’s demise from the shop shelves, I was too late.

It’s perceivable that it didn’t sell very well given that it was a rather quirky product in a mass market line. I guess that’s why it disappeared. What is surprising though is the departure of scents such as Dior’s Midnight Poison without a subsequent resurrection. Take a peak at the prices that this scent draws on Ebay. People will pay a lot of money for even a half full bottle which might have gone off languishing in it’s own headspace for too many years. Dior must know of it’s hardcore of obsessive fans, so why don’t they bring it back?

Yesterday I arranged a swop with a fellow Fragrantica member. In return for my unloved Annick Goutal’s Vanille Exquise (an example of why I should never blind buy from a house that I’m not enamored by in the first place) she has promised me a slightly used bottle of Yves Rocher’s Nature Millenaire and a few other goodies. I’ve never smelt this iconic discontinued scent but the notes sound splendid, a highly natural exercise in the woody oriental genre. It was authored by Olivier Cresp, who ironically also created the long lost Midnight Poison, amongst other mainstream giants such as Angel and niche darlings Olfactive Studio’s Flash Back.

Whilst arranging our swop, I googled the scent and checked out it’s reviews on Fragrantica. I was amazed to find that there is a Facebook group dedicated to trying to tempt Yves Rocher to re-release it!  Additionally, it’s Fragrantica page revealed ardent fans bemoaning it’s departure and sharing tips on other perfumes that smell a little like it in a desperate attempt to recreate the sensation. It was well loved..  

As I write this post it’s Sunday. I’ll return when I receive the parcel. Oh the anticipation.!

Today (Wednesday):

It’s here.

I peg it home from work via the Royal Mail depot. Entering the flat, I abandon my usual routine of coat off, boots off, heating on, hands cleansed of teenage student effluence and kettle switched to ‘desperate for a brew’ mode. Instead, I grab my trusty Stanley knife and settle myself on the sofa in readiness to gouge at the mass of brown packing tape. Three perfumes are in the fortress like box, Nature Millenaire, Donna Karran’s Essence Labdanum and another Yves Rocher creation that I’ve owned before, Vanille Noire.

My new brown scent collection

Of course I grab Nature Millenaire first.

The bottle is in great condition, with only 1 or 2ml missing I am hopeful that it won’t have turned. After all, this thing could be between 8 to 13 years old and vintage fumes are decidedly risky.  With a significantly increased heart beat, I offer up my wrist and take a lengthy indulgent spray..

Crikey, this juice is strange! I immediately understand two things; firstly, why it was destined for discontinuation being clearly far too odd to sell to a mass market clientele on the high streets of Europe, secondly, I appreciate why it has a such a dedicated following of heart broken fans. It is utterly unique, like nothing I have ever smelt before.

I rather like the moulded glass bottle

As I write I am at the ‘four hours in’ point. The first two or three hours have been arduous because it reeks of benzoin. Although this would be a state of bliss for many oriental lovers, benzoin is a difficult note for me. I own a bottle of pure benzoin tincture which I have used in my perfumery experiments. Benzoin is a key ingredient in orientals, providing a stable, slightly spicy and warming base note in similarity to vanilla but less obviously sweet. It appears as an anchor in a great many perfumes and (playing a supporting role) you are unlikely to smell it with absolute clarity. Alike jasmine, it’s an Odiferess bogey man. I don’t mind either of them hovering in background far away from me, but if they get up close it’s an olfactory terror. Remember ‘Anusol’? This benzoin rich antiseptic pile ointment was coined by the beauty press as ‘the greatest cure for under eye bags’ in the nineties. At risk of sounding coarse, hell I’ll do it anyway, benzoin whiffs of bum cream..

Ignoring the fact that (for me) it borders on the vile, this is a startlingly original niche perfume. Behind the great wodge of dominant benzoin lies a slightly woody note, which I interpret as cedar. I sense a little cinnamon too but benzoin itself shares similarities with this note. As it progresses a dirty musk and a leathery labdanum note appear. At this point I’ve moved into Etat Libre D’ Orange territory, where I smell much too close to feral. As I write my last words of this review, what remains is a soft ghost of the above combined with a distinct tonka/coumarin note. I feel less disgusted now but I’m going to scrub hard before I write my conclusion.

It won’t wash off. To those Fragranticans who have stated that it has poor lasting poor, you are wrong! I won’t be keeping this bottle. I’ll be swopping or selling it to a new owner, hopefully someone who has spent the last 8 years trying to get hold of a bottle and will melt with pleasure at the delight of it’s skanky embrace. It could potentially appeal to those who enjoy Hermessence Ambre Narguile or PG’s Tonkamande. Although it doesn’t smell like either of them at the outset, it does project (slight) similarities to aspects of both towards the end.

My swop wasn’t a total disaster as the Donna Karan Essence Labadnum is a bonkers beast! A bottle of incense and leather as unsettlingly peculiar as it is magnificent. This will be an another story for Odiferess..

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Guest Writer Jean Lindsay, On Loyalty To The Signature Scent

A signature scent is something that we fume junkies may have had many years ago, before our addiction led us to a vast and confusing wardrobe. I sometimes wonder if my ever changing fragrance takes away my identity, in that I don't have a recognisable smell that 'is me'. If others truly identify us by smell as much as the more tangible senses such a sight, I may be perceived as someone with a multiple personality disorder!

For this reason, as the new year dawns, I resolve to buy less perfumes and maintain some regular smells rather than spending my days in 'eau de decant' and 'extrait de sample'.

Someone without this problem is guest writer, Jean Lindsay. Here she speaks of what the 'signature scent' means to her:

My Perfumed Identity

We will attack the Boxing Day sales – my daughter, and I. Do we battle through the traffic into the city centre? Not a bit of it. We drive through quiet roads and park in an almost empty car park. A sign of these frugal times no doubt.

            I live in one of the smallest cities in the country and perfume departments are a bit thin on the ground, so our store of choice is Boots. The lovely gift sets that should have sold before Christmas but didn’t, have been drastically reduced and today is obviously the day to pick up a massive bargain.

            Now, I can count on the fingers of one hand the perfumes I’ve worn over my lifetime. I do that and it amounts to five, the first being Chanel no. 5, bought as a present when my ex husband enjoyed a business trip to Paris perhaps a little too much, so it doesn’t really count as it wasn’t my choice and most of the bottle was tipped over my toddler daughter’s head as she sat at my dressing table - not by me I hasten to add.

So that leaves four, over a period of maybe forty five years:

Estee Lauder, Estee

Estee Lauder, Youth Dew

Yves Saint Laurent, Opium

Clinique Aromatics Elixir

So as you can see, I don’t change my perfumes that often, and when I am wearing the now perfume, I wear no other. I am completely faithful and buy bottle after bottle of it for years. My bedroom smells of it. My wardrobe smells of it and my clothes, scarves, coat collars and even the cat smell of it. I become that perfume and it becomes me and I don’t look for any other. I went to a function a little while ago and a man I hadn’t seen for twenty years turned around – he’d had his back to me, and said,

‘Hello, I knew it was you I recognised your perfume.’

That perfume was Aromatics Elixir.

However. The Estee Lauder counter is displaying reduced gift sets and my daughter points out to me a set containing a large bottle of Youth Dew and a lovely white ceramic bottle of body cream. Unbelievable! The whole lot for under £25. I have a spray from the trial bottle and the memories come flooding back – some good and some not so good. It must be nigh on thirty years since I wore Youth Dew. Well! A bargain like this is not to be sniffed at- excuse the pun, and so I buy it.

It’s almost a week later I’m having a real battle persuading myself to use it as I’m still loving Aromatics. I’m trying my very best to make friends with the amber contents of the waisted bottle and so I wear it to the supermarket this morning, but it doesn’t smell like me at all. Perhaps I’ll wear the complete works on New Year’s Eve – body lotion on the arms and legs and clouds of perfume elsewhere, and maybe I’ll create some new good memories.

Jean Lindsay 2013