Love Speaks Primeval. True. Drat.

“Primeval.”  Doesn’t just mean a period of history.  It means based on raw instinct, “raw and elementary.”  The label on this little vial says Love Speaks Primeval.  Hmmm.

I received a Liz Zorn order the other day.  Lovely skin.  (More on “skin” soon.)  Included was a sample of Love Speaks Primeval.  I was excited...and a little scared.  You see, when Liz Zorn graciously brought herself along with a generous selection of samples to Chicago for a gathering of perfume enthusiasts a couple of falls ago, she brought along a little something extra.  A small sample of a perfume she had created using...civet.

Oh, I’ll gird myself up and give this a whiff.  It’ll be good for me...educational.  There’s plenty of food back out there, or seltzer, if I start to get queasy.  If I can handle eating meat, I can handle this.

The first hit is something wrong, something that you think you might recoil from, but you find your nose sinking in deeper.  It develops into something smooth, rich, almost a gourmand dessert.  A gourmand dessert along with a tender delicious cut of meat.  And it occurs to you that this new stage, this delicious something, maybe hasn’t changed entirely.  It is still permeated by the first primeval something, woven throughout, now part of the bigger picture.

I am not going to go into the controversy over civet here.  Suffice to say, I have in general avoided it, and been grateful that in general I have not been attracted to perfumes that lean on the civet.  

What I will get into is a confession:  A number of years ago, a friend recited her delicious sounding menu for Thanksgiving.  Then she paused, and said they would be starting it all with champagne and foie gras.  I must have recoiled over the phone.  I covered, but we gently yanked each other’s chains--she, suggesting that maybe it was time to sophisticate my palate; I, saying perhaps it was time to stop justifying oneself under cover of sophistication. She asked if I had ever actually tried it.  My answer was no.  And has remained so.

Until last summer.  I approached gingerly, semi-wantonly.  I was just going to have a smidge, so that I could say I knew what it tasted like.  It was time for me to face it down.  I would survive.  And I would never come back.

So, while I was, well, fearful as the bit of morsel approached my mouth, I took comfort in knowing that it would soon be over.

What I had not thought of was that rainy day in a sideroom in Chicago, when I applied Liz’ civet concoction to my wrist.  And nearly melted.

Mmmmmmmmmmm....

In the case of the foie gras, my companion was my spouse.  Our eyes met across the table.  If one can recognize one’s own opinion expressed in someone else’s face, it is with a spouse with whom you have noted many anniversaries.  And in his face, I saw my thoughts:  “Ahhhhhyes.  Oh, crap.  Oh, this is good.  Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Across the table at the perfume gathering, my eyes met with another perfumista.  In retrospect, our expressions were probably much the same as mine & my spouse’s at that anniversary dinner last summer.

Spouse and I finished the foie gras.  Perfume friend and I threw caution to the wind and gave up the rest of our skin sampling space to the incredible scent in the bottle.  I did not think I’d have an opportunity for either again.

LSP is rich, like an Amouage.  I love the follow through this kind of experience offers, whether taste or olfactory; there is a period of discovery before you get to the incredible moment, and it does not let you down for as long as it is with you.  Transcendent delicious is the kind of yummy that demands your attention, settles you into a fabulous flavor, and then echoes with happiness.

I am not proud of the eating of the foie gras.  And now I have to confess...I had it again.  One more time.  To see if that first time was a fluke.  It was not.  I like it.  I am going to have to make a decision to not.  Yes, to not.  I love it.  But I can't have it in my life.  It doesn't even make sense that I like it, dang it!  I hate liver.  Seriously.  As a kid, I had permission to leave the house on the rare occasion my mother cooked it, because the mere smell of it made me nauseous.  I am an animal rights person.  I like to get gifts from Heifer, International.  I am an occasional meat eater who consciously searches for responsibly raised meat.  My son is a vegetarian.  My pets are shelter rescues.  Some of my best friends are animals!!!

>Sigh.<  I hate cognitive dissonance.

Liz Zorn’s blog, October 13, 2009:  I also (this morning) made up a few samples of the new natural chypre parfum: Love Speaks Primeval. I have a little on the back of my hand and can’t help notice how much the apple note has come to the front in the mid-heart. Maybe it is a hormone thing with me, but I do not remember it being so dominant in my earlier trials, and I tested it a lot. Curious to see how it works for others. I will write more about it later. It is coming out in November and will wrap up the new Soivohle’ releases until next spring.

Love Speaks Primeval speaks to me just like those unnamed "historicals" Liz conjured.  I'm hoping that the vocabulary, the ingredients, uses something different than civet.  But you'll notice I haven't asked.  Yet.  I'm hoping I just got scared by the word "primeval."  *

I’ll tell you how I feel about LSP.  It’s decadent.  It inspires sustained extended snorfles.  I think I might get some to wear instead of eating foie gras.  

*update:  please take a moment to look through the comments...Liz Zorn stopped by and talks about what goes into LSP and her own thoughts on "primeval."


The magic ingredient in Love Speaks Primeval, the animalic element I was responding to, is called Africa Stone, which is a euphemism for hyrax droppings.  Fossilized hyrax droppings.  See the africa stone entry at Enfleurage, or natural perfumer and teacher Ayala Moriel's description here.  Now, if only my own dog's soakings and droppings in the backyard were so useful...