The Scent of British Spirit Part 3: The Indie Kids, 4160 Tuesdays and Ruth Mastenbroek

Several weeks ago I began exploring the British perfume industry to attempt to discover a definitive spirit. This journey resulted in a 3 part article of which you are now reading part 3 – The Indie Kids. To read parts 1 and 2, scroll down the page for an irreverent look at how heritage and royalty have influenced the Great Brits - Penhaligon’s, Floris and Grossmith.
 

Britain is famous for it’s indie culture. By ‘indie’, I mean independent, the creation of something that a person or small group of people make without the backing of a big investor or parent company. Essentially, innovation without major finance.

 

Some of our greatest indie Brits are famous for innovation in the worlds of music and fashion. Think of the fabulously unconventional fashion designer Vivienne Westwood, who in the early 1970s  partnered up (romantically and in business terms) with avant-garde music producer Malcolm McLaren, quit her job as a primary school teacher and created ‘Let It Rock’ a London based clothes shop. Let It Rock evolved rapidly, schizophrenically changing names and design themes, as the pair kicked off the sub-cultural music and fashion scenes of punk and new wave. Soon, London’s youth sported sado-masochist influenced bondage trousers and vertiginous Mohican hair taking alternative into the mainstream.

 

  Westwood and McLaren

 

During my teenage years in the late 1980s, I followed Manchester’s famous ‘Madchester’ music scene where bands such as The Inspiral Carpets (think – psychedelic Hammond organs combined with guitars strummed at full tilt and huge walls of noise) formed their own record label rather than seek a signing from a major, ultimately allowing complete creative control and gaining cult status amongst fans. The weekly arrival of my subscription to Melody Maker magazine saw me scouring listings for obscure gigs that would inevitably lead me and my friends to sleeping rough in Manchester’s Piccadilly Plaza after we missed our last train home. The satisfaction of an extraordinary night in undergound haunts such as the legendary Hacienda would keep us warm amongst our collected bin bags of shredded paper waste that offices would leave on their doorsteps for the bin men (surprisingly comfortable).

What Vivienne Westwood and The Inspiral Carpet’s shared, was a ‘Do It Yourself’ attitude. Why bother seeking the backing of a major investor or working for someone else when you can launch your own mini empire in your own makeshift way? DIY is the basis of indie victory.

The Inspiral Carpets in their youth

 

Essential oils, absolutes, alcohols and synthetic bases are widely available to buy online and (with a little research) it’s easily possible to make something unique and quirky. So why aren’t there a proliferation of indie perfumers?

 

One explanation could be the bureaucratic toil that is required to obtain a European safety certificate, i.e. a document that certifies that your perfume isn’t going to poison anybody and will allow you to trade your fumes to the public in a shop. This is both pricey and complex.  Another explanation is that there is an expectation that a perfumer holds a high level scientific qualification and has undergone extensive training within the employ of Givaudin, Firmenich etc before becoming what we know as ‘a nose’. 

 

One entrepreneurial spirit who has negotiated the EU rules and successfully created a range of superbly quirky whiffs is Sarah McCartney. Sarah launched her company 4160 Tuesdays with minimal formal training, learning just enough to ensure that her products performed as a perfume successfully. Sarah’s real ‘training’ was a life long adoration of fragrance and the depth of knowledge that comes with years of reading and writing about perfume. Sarah says of her company:

 

“The 4160Tuesdays project is about being creative: mindful observation, nerd-like fascination, endless exploration and - fingers crossed - mixing it all up and having good ideas. At least once a week. If we can't be bright and brilliant every day, at least let's have a crack at making Tuesdays interesting.” 4160tuesdays.com

 

This statement thoroughly embodies the indie spirit, it’s not about creating a luxury product for a label hungry consumer. It’s about exploring what can happen when she pursues an idea, the creation of a perfume that might capture a concept, place or memory rather than simply ‘something that smells nice’.

Sarah mixes fumes in a home made lab

 

As I write, I’m wearing a sample of ‘The Dark Heart of Old Havana’ a scent inspired by her travels to Cuba. Sarah says of the Cuban capital:

“They have tobacco, sugar, rum and fruit. They don’t have much of anything else. And there’s ingenuity, humour, fatalism and sweltering heat. And this is the way I remember it smelled, walking through Old Havana to the Caseón del Tango at night.”

 

And dark it smells. Our noses are trained to recognise vanillic smells as sugary and comforting, with associations of ice cream, cakes and all things ‘sweet’. Now and again someone will mix it with some patchouli and spice and call it ‘noire’, but it’s never that dark, merely a little more adult. In the case of Sarah’s Dark Heart of Old Havana, she has created a literal interpretation of her experiences off the tourist trail and reproduced both the edgy atmosphere and intoxicating smells of Havana.

L’ Artisan Parfumeur released a fragrance called Havana Vanille, which promised a combination of rum and vanilla mixed up with spices and tobacco. To my nose it smelt of vanilla and pepper and little else, it left me uninspired. Sarah’s Havana Vanilla doesn’t. It makes me excited. It’s the rarest form of vanilla fragrance in that it actually smells huge and symphonic, casting notes of dark leathery labdanum, over-ripe fruits and a curious burnt toffee sensation into the air. Whilst vanilla scents often smell ‘flat’, this one seems to radiate upwards and outwards with a lot of energy. I can almost smell Sarah’s energetic mission to learn how to Tango on her travels! Yes it’s dark in that smells of strong booze, smoky cigars and filthy fruit pulp leftovers at the end of a market day in sweltering heat but it’s also bright and optimistic, a triumph of very clever perfumery.

Sarah’s scents are sold in small scale distribution, with an online shop at the 4160 Tuesdays website, Les Senteurs and a posh knicker shop in Camden. I’m glad about this, I don’t want to see it in Harrods. I’d hate to hear a passionless sales assistant try to sell her memories.

In the process of communicating with Sarah during my research process I was struck by how much I personally liked her. Wit, intelligence, informality and a slighty daft sense of humour underpinned her emails, which really sums up the spirit of her perfumes. They are a reflection of her eccentric character and as such are delightful.

Another route into indie perfumery is to leave your career as a nose for the big guys and set up on your own. Ruth Mastenbroek has mighty credentials, in possession of a chemistry degree from Oxford and a lengthy International career creating a multitude of perfumes and aromas under the security of contracts with large companies, she is the polar opposite of Sarah McCartney. In fact, Ruth even holds the title of President of the British Society of Perfumers.

Ruth launched her own signature fragrance, RM for women, independently in 2010. There must be a huge amount of pressure involved with the release of your ‘signature’ perfume. What if it isn’t as successful as your past creations for other companies? How do you, as an industry expert, deliver a concoction that ultimately signifies your personal taste, gives away a little of your character, and bears your name as an emblem of what you believe to be your own idea of the sublime idyll within perfumery?

Of her inspiration for RM, Ruth says:

 

“Our sense of smell is a powerful reminder of precious memories. Memories have inspired me, influencing the complex ‘chypre’ fragrance that is Ruth Mastenbroek.

Memories of childhood: gingerbread, fresh earth, blackberries... Memories of my life in England and abroad: Japanese jasmine, cherry blossom, lotus, and green tea; Dutch lilies, narcissus, hyacinth, and salt sea air; French orchids, roses, and wild flowers...

Memories of travels to exotic places, the spices and oils of Morroco, Sri Lanka, Italy and Thailand.

This palette has been my playground, my refuge, my source of inspiration. From it I have created a scent that stands out above all others, one that I can truly call me. “

Ruth created a contemporary floral chypre, with a strident blackcurrant note and abundant jasmine. It isn’t quirky, it’s very likeable to a mass audience as well as those with a nose for niche florals.

Ruth's signature fragrance

When I first applied it I was surprised. To some extent I was disappointed that it wasn’t very unusual. I’d expected to smell an innovation, perhaps with a challenging aspect that could only be appreciated by a perfume junkie such as the cold camphor in Tubereuse Criminelle or curious curry in Eau Noire. RM could have easily been released by Givenchy, Lancome or Dior and appreciated by millions. As I pondered it’s mood over several wearings I started to understand the point of RM. It’s not supposed to be quirky. It’s supposed to be a culmination of years of expertise and life experience, a summary of her career and a statement of elegant femininity. It wasn’t meant to be for me, with my penchant for edgy music, flat shoes, masculine colognes, handmade art school dresses and jasminophobia.

So why is RM in my indie article? Because I love the idea of Ruth creatively beating the giants at their own game. RM is amongst the most mainstream smelling perfumes on the shelves of legendary indie fume shop - Les Senteurs. It’s what the huge cosmetics houses would love to release under their own name if only they could. It’s a Goliath perfume, a high end fruity floral chypre with enormous longevity and strength that would sells millions of bottles to millions of women if you could buy it at Debenhams. Only you can’t. You can only buy it directly from Ruth’s web boutique and from a number of small indie retailers. For that reason, it’s downsized, DIY Dior. It smells as if Ruth wanted to create her masterwork as ‘the greatest popular floral in the world’ without the restrictions of designing it for a big house to make it actually become the greatest popular floral in the world. No clients to please and appease, no marketing folk to deliver a definitive brief, no tight restrictions on a materials budget and no corporate nonsense. A J’Adore created during a period of freedom. For this I admire her as much as I admire Sarah McCartney’s delightful eccentricity.

As I ponder the close of my research into ‘The Scent of British Spirit’ I still wonder why we as an industry are still deemed to be less commercially successful and innovative than the French? I can only summarise that it ultimately might come down to production and distribution, we simply don’t make perfume by the truck load or market it with glamourous gusto to the masses.

Perhaps it’s just who we are, a nation who will always be the slightly eccentric underdog. Essentially creative but not overly concerned with winning a commercial competition. After all, there is joy in the hidden, being part of the alternative, we do it our own way. 

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The Scent of British Spirit, Part 2: The Majestic Fragrance of Grossmith and Floris

Last week I began to investigate the spirit of British perfumery. Part 1 of my 3 part series considered an introductory take on the industry and focussed on the innovative humorous marketing and contemporary creations of Penhaligon’s. To read the post click here.

In this, Part 2, I will explore the connection between fragrance and the concept of royalty and patriotism.

Firstly, I must explain that I’m not much of a royalist, which has made this article especially tough to write! My disdain was probably forged when, as a small child, I waited enthusiastically, drenched in rain with my fellow soggy school mates, to watch the Queen’s procession down our lane. After 3 hours of chilly sodden anticipation, her vehicle passed. Expecting her gracious smile and stately wave to lift our spirits we waved our flags with grinning abandon. We soon deflated at the sight of the back of her head viewed in a 50 mph blur. With questioning eyes we turned to our cross looking parents, how could she ignore us, a hoard of eager little children? Crushed! However, despite this non-event, it would be perverse of me to dismiss the importance of the royal patronage of perfumery, particularly when we look at the birth of perfume retail.

In Sixteenth century France, a fashion arose for wearing attractively fragranced gloves to keep the skin soft and protect the hands of the upper classes from the filth and squalor of the city. Indeed even now, our Queen dons a pair of gloves when out greeting the crowds (and even when shaking the hand of the Pope, who I’m sure is unlikely to give her scabies/warts/flees/the plague etc..) 

Naturally, the perfuming of gloves progressed to the practice of perfuming the environment and body. As Europe’s highly influential royal and courtly citizens patronised the development of bespoke perfumery, this of course ultimately filtered down to ‘off the shelf’ products that could be purchased by less majestic customers. What better way than to be viewed as flourishingly successful than by donning an exotic smell rumoured to be gracing the courts of the reigning family?

Today, the ownership of a royal warrant signifies a connection to royalty, specifically that a company with a warrant has supplied a product to a royal family for a minimum of 5 years. Floris gained their first royal warrant as suppliers of a ‘smooth pointed comb’ to King George the IV. Today, one of their warrants is held as perfumer to our own Queen Elizabeth. I wonder which one she wears? I can imagine her in a traditional floral such as Lilly of The Valley, though you never know, she could be secretly anointing herself in Etat Libre D’ Orange’s ‘Malaise of The 1970s’ or some other such fabulous eccentricity.

Another company trading with a royal warrant are Grossmith, launched in 1825, Grossmith ceased trading in 1980 and rose again in 2009 back under family ownership. For an enchanting tale of the company’s resurrection with detailed photographs of the ornate vintage bottles, read an article from The Telegraph by clicking here.

Grossmith deserve an entire post to themselves really as I was overwhelmed by the gorgeousness and raw pungency of their fragrances. Most interestingly, their collection of three classic orientals (Phul-Nana, Shem-el-Nessim and Hasu-no-Hana) which were composed using the original Victorian formulae without a budget restriction, are highly reminiscent of classic era Guerlain. The curious aspect is that all 3 were released BEFORE Shalimar, L’Heure Bleu and Vol De Nuit. Interesting eh? As I sit here writing, I have Hasu-no-Hana on one wrist and Shalimar on the other. It’s astounding to think that Hasu-no-Hana, ‘killer oriental’ preceded Shalimar by 33 years. I’m wandering off the point again but it does make me question the originality of what I thought were groundbreaking leaders in the genre. Did the Brits at Grossmith actually invent what we know as the benchmark oriental?

 

  Contemporary bottles of Betrothal and Diamond Jubilee Bouquet

The original Betrothal bottle

 

Grossmith currently produce two scents associated with royal events. Diamond Jubilee Bouquet was released in 2012 to mark the Diamond Jubilee, the astute amongst you may have already guessed that! Betrothal was launched in 2011 to mark the wedding of William and Kate. Though this was an update of the original Grossmith Betrothal, which was created in 1893 to celebrate the marriage of Queen Mary and King George.

I expected to yawn at Betrothral. The idea of a royal wedding scent to me conjures imagery of ‘pretty pleasantness’. Indeed Kate herself is the ideal PR girl for the modern Royal. She is sweet natured, intelligent, politely charming and highly unlikely to get them into scandalous trouble, in short ‘nice’.

In honour of the royal wives, or dare I say divorcees? Those of you old enough to recall Sarah Ferguson’s exploits will remember her extraordinary sense of fun. Whilst the Internationally adored Diana was busy being photographed in portraits of beauty and enigma by the world’s press, Fergie was pictured in The Sun roaring with laughter, gob wide open, eyes goggling in the manner of a serious thyroid problem. She wasn’t ‘nice’, she had the manic air of someone who you’d probably have a darn good laugh with holed up in a pub for a night. I rather liked her.

I’m wandering off the point here, but what I’m trying to say is that nice contains connotations of boring and Betrothral is definitely not boring. It’s unexpectedly unusual and enormously sexy. Grossmith’s press pack describes Betrothal as:

“Betrothal is a romantic, floral bouquet combining Rose de Mai and Jasmine from Grasse to create a sensual bridal scent.” Grossmith

I agree with this in that it certainly contains extremely high quality natural ingredients (as you would expect from a Robertet creation, a company famous for it’s use of predominantly natural raw ingredients) and it does have a noticeably floral feel. What the statement doesn’t do is reveal the myriad of other fine notes that take it from ‘pretty floral’ to ‘decadent musk bomb’. This is how it works for me:

A striking opening is composed of citrus and ylang-ylang, both fighting each other for dominance. I’ve never been fond of Ylang but in balance with the citrus zest it’s wonderfully ‘shouty’, you certainly notice that you’ve just covered yourself in a perfumey perfume. See? It’s already more Fergie.. Quickly, a whopping great musk appears. Rather than lurking in the base it joins the scrum for immediate note dominance. I’ve not managed to work out what type of ingredients have formed the musk but whatever it may be is convincingly animalistic. I would love to smell genuine civet musk for comparison but these days we consumers baulk at the idea of an unlucky creature having it’s perineal gland scraped out for our olfactory pleasure. I smell very little in the way of standard Jasmine and wonder if this almighty animal whiff could be therefore caused by the combination of Jasmine’s notoriously filthy/lovely indole molecules and a synthetic musk, ultimately creating a highly carnal whiff? With this in mind, Betrothal is distinctly more ‘wedding night’ than ‘marriage’.

As it dries down, the initial notes remain easily detectable but a vanilla/heliotrope accord joins in to project a powdery softness reminiscent of that of Guerlain’s Vol de Nuit and the famous Guerlinade base that formed the structure of so many great Guerlains. At this point you can feel the shift from exuberant to romantic.

This little sample has made it to my ‘keep and eek out by micro milliliters’ box, where it shall be taken out with great care only in moments when I need to smell something extraordinary.

Ultimately Kate did not walk down the isle in Betrothral, she chose White Gardenia Petals by Illuminum. I haven’t smelt it but I imagine it was very much more polite than Betrothral.

In stark contrast is Floris’s Victorious. This isn’t strictly a royal celebration scent, their adaption of Royal Arms (originally created to mark the birth of the Queen and adapted to mark her Diamond Jubilee) is the most relevant for this post. However, I’m bending the rules as I much prefer Victorious! Victorious seems to echo the military connection of the royals, in particular the seafaring naval voyage aspect.

 

The patriotic artwork of Victorious

 

“Exclusively launched in 2012 to celebrate the spirit of Great Britain. Bringing together five fragrances families in a complex harmony to symbolise victory through endeavour. Marine, the oceanic freshness of a sea breeze. Citrus, the zest of mandarin and grapefruit. Floral, a heart of neroli, jasmine and petitgrain. Woody, deep enduring notes of sandalwood and vetiver. Oriental, comforting vanilla and warm spices weave through from the top notes to the base” Floris catalogue

Complex indeed, a veritable eton mess of notes (chuckling at my own toff pun). Somehow it works though, with the most dominant of the fragrance families being the marine and spices. Ordinarily I find marine scents a little lacking, in that they are not as ‘fresh’ as the sensation of citrus and cannot possibly replicate the beauty of hyper charged ozonic atoms rushing off the sea. What Floris has created is essentially a marine with unexpected note partners. If you cannot replicate the wonder of the sea and the exoticism of the early colony seeking voyages of our sea faring nation simply by making an Aqua Di Gio, why not stick a load of other stuff in there to make it more interesting. A very good idea.

I find it hard to describe the wear of this scent as it’s so incongruously quirky (I could see it sitting comfortably amongst Etat Libre D’ Orange’s range rather than on the polished genteel shelves of Floris). So, here is a list of things it reminds me of:

Biscuits containing bits of ginger and candied citrus like those lovely Scottish ones that I can’t remember the name of, lovely old fashioned waxy furniture polish in National Trust properties, dried coriander seeds and fresh coriander stalks, iodine infused seaweed after it’s attached itself to rocks on the beach. There you go, not entirely to do with it’s listed notes but that’s how it appears to my nose!

Some final thoughts on what the other royals should wear:

Princess Anne: Bottega Veneta – Bottega Veneta (highly natural chypre with notes of hay and leather, obvious equine associations).

Prince Charles: Gorilla Perfume from Lush – Flower’s Barrow (all natural ingredients with a charitable donation from it’s geranium oil, ideal for the champion of organic agriculture)

The Queen Mum were she still with us: Penhaligon’s - Juniper Sling (she notoriously adored gin and was a very pretty girl in the Art Deco period).

Prince Harry: Adidas - Sport Fever (self explanatory)

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