Is
there a ‘British spirit’ in perfumery? With so many of our fragrances
originating in France, why are so few home grown? A possible answer is that we,
as a nation, are less avid fragrance wearers than our European neighbours.
Within my own social circle and family there are folks who would only don a
spritz of fume when making preparations for a night out, rarely bothering
with scented adornments as part of their daily wardrobe. It simply isn’t a
National obsession unless you count the hoards of teenagers sporting the latest
celebrity concoction (although the online presence of the niche fragrance
community has sparked a recent wave of interest that appears to be growing
rapidly).
Another feasible answer could be that the source of many perfumery
ingredients originate in France, with floral absolutes abounding in Grasse and
innovations in synthetics being created by companies such as Firmenich.
Whatever
the reason, we associate the notion of ‘French’ perfume as being essentially,
luxurious, sometimes decadent and of exceptional quality, essentially – the
best.
Despite
the seat of fragrant power reigning in France, I believe we do have our own
identity in Britain. I see our industry as falling into two distinct
territories: The first of these being ‘The Historics’ e.g. Penhaligon’s, Floris
and Grossmith who can be thought of as creators of fine fragrances and
toiletries, each with at least one Royal Warrant and over one hundred years of
trading. I imagine this is how tourists who adore our Royal Family and travel
to see Big Ben view Britain i.e. steeped in history, class and tradition.
A
friend hailing from my teenage years came from a ‘posh’ family. On her ornate
Victorian dressing table sat a great many fragrant hand-me-downs from her
stepmother. Amongst these were Penhaligon’s Bluebell and Lily of The Valley by
Floris. Both scents remind me of Sarah’s grand house and the rather stuffy
atmosphere of Middle England. That said, taking a bath with their decadent oils
and lotions was quite wonderful.
The second
category could be considered ‘The Indie Spirit’ where independent perfumers
have created small lines with limited distribution and the DIY ethic that comes
with the lack of major commercial backing. Britain leads the world in the indie
music scene with bands on tiny labels creating masterpieces of originality
appreciated by ‘real’ music aficionados. Likewise, small indie fragrance
companies such as Miller Harris and Ormonde Jayne and really small lines from Ruth Mastenbroek and Sarah McCartney of 4160
Tuesdays have gained cult status, with the last two being stocked by London’s
ultimate retail shrine for fume junkies – Les Senteurs. In itself Les Senteurs
reeks of indie spirit. With it’s delightfully playful atmosphere, hugely
knowledgeable sales staff and enormous range of quirky fragrances, it’s
absolutely opposite to Harrods snooty rarefied atmosphere. If I lived close to
London I’d probably visit weekly and most definite beg them for a job.
In
part 1 of this exploration of British scent, I’ll discuss Penhaligon’s and
ponder the enormous shift in marketing and mood. Part 2 (coming soon) will take
a look at Grossmith and Floris and the idea of ‘the scent of royalty’. Part 3 will reveal the DIY-ers and their
contribution to the world of niche.
Part
1: Penhaligon’s
Established
in 1870, Penhaligon’s is one of Britain’s oldest perfumeries. Although
concessions exist large stores, Penhaligon’s boutiques exist in towns
associated with wealth, heritage and tourism such as Chester, Edinburgh and
Cambridge in addition to plentiful London locations. As the proud owners of two
royal warrants, they have historically traded as a luxury brand for those with
an appreciation of heritage and quality raw materials. I can hear you yawning.
Stifle the boredom and read on as change has occurred..
At
some point recently, a very clever thinker has turned Penhaligon’s from ‘posh
shop’ into ‘niche Brit darling’. Their website states:
“Our
fragrant adventure began in the Victorian era of decadence and carries us into
the future as we strive to create original scents for the discerning eccentrics
of today. True modern dandies and bold women who are proud to go their own way.
.” penhaligons.com
In
essence, this means that they are holding onto their quality products but
having a great deal of fun poking fun at the notion of heritage and poshness
(yes, I know that’s not really a word but I am a Northerner and it means
something to us). Embracing the daft manners of stuffy old Britain, they have
injected a huge dose of humour into their marketing and encouraged customers (who
might now be ‘commoners’ who simply love perfume, the chaps and chappettes who appreciate a little comic eccentricity) to get involved with social
media and communicate via reviews and commentary on the website.
Some cheeky snippets of
smelly fun currently gracing the website include:
Perhaps my favourite tongue
in cheek touch is the ditching of stars to indicate popularity. Instead they
have a star rating with moustache icons, genius!
In addition to the shift in mood, there is a change in the actual
products. Classics such as the infamous Bluebell or the magnificent eau de
cologne – Douro will remain eternal. However, perhaps influenced by sister
company L’ Artisan Parfumeur, the fragrances are becoming much more artistic
and brave. Employing the services of highly creative perfumers such as Olivier
Cresp and Bertrand Duchaufour, the fragrances are moving into distinctly niche
territory.
If you take a tour round the
Penhaligon’s website, there is much to play with for the ardent fume junkie. Each
scent’s page delivers plentiful information including detailed note
descriptions and historical information. The ‘journal’ area is an intimate blog
that invites us into their world, a welcoming place, even offering us ‘stories’
(see new release ‘Vaara’ for a video and wonderful drawings from Duchaufour’s
own sketchbook). As a Penhaligon’s customer, you feel connected to the
products, as if you know them without even smelling them. I imagine that more
companies will try to emulate this intimacy as it definitely builds curiosity
and enchantment.
My sample set included a
range of scents from the historic to the new. Here are some of my impressions:
Penhaligon’s most popular historic
scent is the 1902 creation, Blenheim Bouquet.
Blenheim Palace
“An aristocratic citrus, dry and aromatically anchored
with woods and lavender, Blenheim Bouquet
takes it inspiration from the iconic Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire, the
ancestral seat of the dukes of Marlborough whose illustrious descendants
include Sir Winston Churchill.” Penhaligons.com
With references to royalty, power and the implication of genteel
masculinity, this scent certainly possesses the aristocratic heritage that we
find in traditional British perfumery. But can it be worn by a Guardian
reading, left-leaning, feminine (ish!) fume junkie such as myself? Yes, despite
my long standing ex art school ethics I can ‘posh-up’ and accept the snooty
whiff with great enjoyment. This is how it wears:
Initially, a prominent lemon and lime note effervesces, providing a citrus
stimulant in the tradition eau de cologne style. Underneath lies a peppery
sharpness that complements the refreshing top notes of the scent with a little
longevity. Further into it’s wear, a markedly natural combination of woody
herbaceous notes mingle together to give an oddly ‘savory’ feeling. Within this
savory blend are clear whiffs of lavender, pine and rosemary and although they
aren’t actually there, I also smell thyme and oregano, with an atmospheric nod
to Mediterranean cuisine. I don’t really smell any muskiness as listed in the base, nor
any hint of warmth or sensuality. Although it’s not amongst the most exciting
scents I’ve smelt, it’s certainly a great ‘classic’ masculine that would be
appreciated by those who adore Guerlain’s Vetiver or any in the manner of
‘clean and natural’.
More symbolic of Penhaligon’s quirky new identity, is the delightful
Sartorial. Created in 2010 by the much revered Bertrand Duchaufour, this
fragrance is appealing to both my nose and my appreciation of creativity in
story telling. I was amazed to see that they sell Sartorial scented 'beard oil' and thought of the trend for fulsome beards amongst Manchester's young Creative community. It would make a fabulous gift for an arty chap who I imagine is probably one of Penhaligon's current target market.
“Sartorial is a
contemporary interpretation of the fougère family of fragrances, a line of rich
masculine scents tracing a lineage back to the original Fougère Royale
made in 1882 by Houbigant. In Sartorial,
the classic fougère notes of moss, tonka bean and lavender have been
exquisitely stitched together with woods, leather, violet, honey, musks, ginger
and black pepper. The thread running through Sartorial is
beeswax, echoing the blocks of wax each thread is run across before stitching.
This sweet smudged note ties together beautifully cut notes designed to create
the perfect illusion of a tailor’s workroom – metal shears, steamed cloth,
tobacco-tinted cabinetry, tailor’s chalk, dust and vintage paper patterns.” Penhaligons.com
Appropriate to the brand, it
references history (Saville Row and the British tradition of gentlemen’s
tailoring) and adds some contemporary quirk via the inclusion of the olfactory
imagery of tailor’s tools. It’s not just PR blah, you can genuinely detect the
metallic facets of shears, the laundry-esque sensation of a hot iron searing
steam into fabric and most prominent of all – the beeswax. I use natural
beeswax for candle making, in here I can smell the wax as it liquefies at
melting point, a warm and almost ‘muggy’ smell as if it’s animalistic scent is
smothered by heat.
On my skin, the lavender and
tonka/coumarin notes reside with equal billing amongst this waxy whiff. Leather
additionally has a very brawny presence which renders the scent rather sensual.
Towards it’s closure, a sweet, almost gourmand nuance is apparent with tonka
and honey welding into gloopy delight. It does, without doubt, remind me of
Faberge Brut, the most memorable Fougere for my generation. Before you baulk at
‘Brut’, try to ignore the memories of your Dad’s ablutions and ponder what it
actually smelt like. It was good, damn good! Sartorial however, is a much
subtler interpretation of the Fougere. Imagine that Brut is a full orchestra
reaching the clanging crescendo of a gung-ho marching composition, Sartorial is
the part where all the other instruments fall silent and the wood wind section
delivers a cheeky scamper through the melody.
To further highlight the
contrast between the ‘old and new’ of Penhaligon’s, take a look at the
packaging of their beautiful samples. On the reverse of Blenheim Bouquet, we
see two icons signaling formal royal warrants. Whilst on the reverse of
Sartorial we see a continuation of golden waxed thread leading to a tiny sewing
machine. Sartorial clearly carries connotations of conceptual perfumery with a
hint of humour and a great deal of creativity – exactly what we’d expect from
Duchaufour.
I chose to talk about the more
masculine side of Penhaligon’s here, partly because they are very good at men’s
scents (I think both detailed here are a moustache too far to be considered
gender neutral) and partly because I haven’t had the opportunity to delve my
nose into many of those suitable for sharing or feminine wear.
In summary, my preconception of the brand's stuffiness has been thoroughly shattered. I look forward to trying Vaara, their new oriental release which promises to be a romantic oriental in the contemporary style i.e. More ‘travel’ than ‘Victorian tour’.
The King is dead, long live Penhaligon's!
