A breather...

...or a break. Perhaps both. Given the nature of the blog, "breather" seemed more apt.

With apologies for no advance warning...sniffage has been slow, and other paths in life fast...I shall be blogging again by the time the Labor Day weekend is a memory...

Potter's Potions

Just saw “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.” Comments: An uber-hip teenage critic in the family thought it was too heavy on frivolity, but changed his mind after a second viewing. Me, I thought it was plenty dark, showed some nice cinematic touches and weaving of themes between the visual and the spoken, and was worth a trip to the cinema. Though I *did* wish there were more layering within sections.

Whyfor Potter? With perfume?

Because early on, in potions class, the students are introduced to the recipe for and effects of a love potion. Hermione, of course, provides the deets: “It’s effect is different on each individual who experiences it. On me, for example, I smell...newly mown grass...fresh parchment...[sigh] spearmint gum....” Have we perfume appreciators not read plenty, discussed plenty, ruminated plenty on those scents which have visceral effects upon us? The wizards’ love potion is all about that. Scents are composed according to the perfumer’s experience, according to a committee brief, a mentor’s directive, a customer survey. But they always come down to a single rendition...a particular something, a unique but the same in every bottle delivery...

...the closest we come to the individual experience delivered by a Hogwarts love potion is the (still contested) experience that different people will experience the VERY SAME potion differently, or differently depending on whose skin they smell it, or differently depending on time of year or context. Come to think of it, maybe there is a sort of magic going on there...yes, I know science will explain it eventually. Receptors and all. But, it’s still magical, isn’t it?

Further on in the Potter film, the pensieve reappears, and there is Dumbledore’s fabulous glass cabinet, full of vials containing various memories. Because my brain had already been primed by the love potion scene, I saw that cabinet and immediately thought of a perfumer’s organ. Yes, physically it resembled some of those cabinets like in the perfume museum in Barcelona, and that crossed my mind, too. But the perfumer, sitting down with so many single notes, ready to compose an accord, or blend a full piece...those memories waiting to be explored individually, or collected in an overall experience...and then Harry, submerging himself in the water, letting the memory/experience consume his conscious.

Mown grass, indeed.

****

Incidentally, there is a scene in the movie where a professor explains why an academic always travels with ampules, a trait which of course is both "intellectual" and opportunistic. On the way home, I entertained my family by having son-the-film-critic reach into my bag and pull out what would appear to be a typical hardshell eyeglasses case. What does his mother, a one-time college teacher have inside?

Ampules, of course. 1ml and 1.5ml glass vials, at the ready to collect specimens.

Quirks (Independence Day)

I do this.

I check out other people's blogs.  (I know, so far, not very "out there.")  I love to read them; that is, naturally, one of the pasttimes that inspired me to try one of my own.

One way I find blogs is to link back from the comments on other people's blogs.  A couple of days ago, Helg posted a lovely suggested list of "All American" perfumes, in honor of our Independence Day.  You'll see me, there, commenting.  And others, of course, being more erudite/interesting/clever/provocative.  That's how it goes.  One of the commenters, Alt Godt, made a comment about other countries/peoples approach to America/Americans.  And made clear she was Norwegian.  That was enough for me...off I went to investigate.

Her site, Alt Godt, is a charming a visually appealing mix of perfume and cooking, with a hint of gardening.  So far, so good.  Unfortunately, is entirely in Norwegian.  

This would be where perhaps it gets a bit odd.  You see, I don't read Norwegian.  But I "read through" her posts, anyway.  

Mind you, I know that Norwegian is notable for being a modern construct of a language, created specifically to establish a unique identity from Sweden.  I also happen to know that the 17th of May would be a day roughly equivalent to our own 4th of July, for they both mark the anniversary of independence from a reigning ruling country.  

And I can say "excuse me" in Norwegian.  But unnskyllde me please, while I confess this guys:  I couldn't ask my way to the restroom in Norway.  (Fortunately for me, if I had to, and I were there, just about everybody speaks beautiful English.)   Yet I made my way on down the articles, all the way to "older posts," and enjoyed the garden picture, the food, the saying something about Hermes Gentian cologne.  All in Norwegian.  And I had fun.  Just a quirk of mine.

So, thanks to Helg...thanks to Alt Godt...and thanks to all who keep my country and the internets "free."  I might move about peculiarly, but I am grateful I am able to roam.

Through bloggery AND elsewise, natch.

Words returned, eaten

Perhaps it is only fitting that after an extended absence, the words I offer are...eaten.

Did I ever mention that one of the scent families I do not, would not, could not like is carnation?

That I can not enjoy Je Reviens in a box, or Bellodgia with a fox?  That I would not try any ouillet at the fair, that I simply could not imagine going there? 

Hello, Bellodgia parfum.  Open mouth, insert foot.

It opened the way I would expect.  There was that florist's carnation.  But I was busy, and Bellodgia had time to hang around.  And out of the blue, I found myself asking "what smells good?"  (Kind of a tricky question when one is in the midst of a sample binge; I had five to choose from.)  Not only was it lasting, I enjoyed what it had become.  It didn't rock my boat, mind you, and was not "original" or "daring" ... it wasn't the smell of the circus, or your favorite pastry, or the forest floor.

It was simply...nice.  Really nice.

So, blart, I eat my words.  In perfume form, I might appreciate this thing called...carnation.  

But I still don't like Je Reviens.  And I think the trick with any of them that work is going to be the thicker, developed version that a denser concentration allows.  Not necessarily fetid in 10 day old water, mind you...I can create that in my own living room, thank you very much, and I don't necessarily find it attractive...but the pushing back of petal after petal with slowly accumulating non-jarring tangential notes that is the concentrated version.

I did plant a tall carnation in my garden this spring, after years of sticking with the shorter pinks.  Is that a factor?  I don't know.

If you've been here before, thanks for coming back.

A certain kind of fabulous

I'd like to thank Rose, and Jenavira, and Daily Connoisseur, all of whom have nominated me for a Your Blog is F*ing Fabulous award.  These nods are particular special when they come from people whose own work I follow.

I am asked to share five addictions, and five favorite blogs.  I'll start with the difficult sharing...the addictions...

addictions open and not so visible...

• Perfume, naturally.  I just don't stop acquiring scents...the reason being I so want to experience and mentally bookmark everything I read about.  The reading about it I'll leave under the "obsession" category, and not place here.  ;)
• Plants.  I love to garden.  In the ground, in pots, on paper, in my head, for others, for myself.  When my younger child entered toddler-dom, I decided to structure a break and indulge an interest, and took the master gardening class.  That was a wonderful way to find others who shared my passion, to take my interest to another level, to apply all that book reading notice the "obsession" pattern when it comes to reading up on interests, and to give the whole thing an air of credibility.  What it all boils down to, when it comes to confessing addictions, is that I love to gather plants.  From a nursery, from a plant swap, from a cutting, from seed, as a gift.  Like with perfumes, I really love trying to represent the gamut of what is available.  I like to get to know each plant, see where it works best, what kind of combinations it shows well with, learn the extremes it can tolerate, work toward propogating enough to share.  oooh, wouldn't that be cool if we could do that with perfume?
• Food.  I'd love to couch this one in more erudite language.  For example, what if I just said "cheese," and launched into a discussion of Maytag blue vs. a French import, or the artisinal efforts of many a fine US producer, or even whether aged cheeses seem to trigger one of my migraines.  But, the fact of the matter is, I've gone through a chocolate intense period, a homemade breads & crackers period, homemade sodas, blah blah blah.  With the correlating obsession, of course.  Cookbooks in three different rooms in the house, not including the "coffee table" volumes.  So, I focus my intensities, learn a fair amount each round, and certain relish my indulgence.  But the fact of the matter is, I love to eat...and wonder if my individual food addictions aren't just some sort of serial affairs that play into a larger constellation.  Defined by...food.  Yum.  (I am hoping that my cocktail/barchef-ery addiction falls under the food category, and not under "alcoholism." ) 
• Good mystery stories.  For example, the Kurt Wallender series by Henning Mankell. Mystery and crime novels are one of my happiest kinds of escape reading.  They have to be well written enough for me not feel like I just ate a bag of bad chips, but not pretentious--though I'll confess, when it comes to the mystery/crime genre, there isn't a lot of pretention out there.  I've also enjoyed Sue Grafton and Steve Hamilton as "quick but fun" consumables, and would put Arturo Perez-Reverte in the same category.  Addictions are often inherited, and I wonder if the fact that my parents...who had no small amount of books themselves...had a few shelves lined with the two MacDonalds (Ross and John D.) as I was growing up.  
• I'm going to confess it here, and harbor a small hope that by saying it out loud, it will start to fade.  But recently, I have been a bit addicted to Facebook, and to some of the ridiculously lame game apps found there.  I whacked players in the mob, harvested crops on my farm, decorated myself and my apartment in YoVille, and watched the little circles erupt on Chain Rx.  I comment on others' posts, I keep track of people who otherwise would be lost to the recesses of my life, and I generally lose a lot of time to a computer screen that I could be using to garden, get chores done, or even better prepare for my job. I do NOT like the recent changes, by the way.

Five fabulous blogs

• He's starting to get some love -- a Fifi nomination some shout outs for his perfume porn, erm, photography -- but when it comes to writing about perfume, Nathan Branch tells it straight (like some of my favorite mystery characters) without losing the love.  I probably also enjoy the fact that he, like me, can be a fan of the embedded link.
• I've already mentioned A Way to Garden in other postings, so I'd like to give a shout out to Mr. MacGregor's Daughter, who will be very surprised to discover my fandom, as that is a blog I haunt without commenting.  Just a very nice combination of photos and ruminations...like having the pleasure of reading through someone's garden journal.  Someone who knows how to garden and how to write.  Be sure to check out the extensive and useful blog roll there.
• Remember, I mentioned food as an addiction?  There are plenty of blogs to go around on that front, of course.  I'm going to point to Smitten Kitchen as a consistently rewarding presentation of photos and recipes.  Hey, wait a minute...there's a pattern starting to develop here in my shout outs...
• ...and I think I'm going to follow suit here.  I did not mention architecture or design among my addictions.  I can't acquire them, and I have not devoted enough time to them to even count them as knowledgeable obsessions.  But I am fascinated.  Mrs. Blandings is both erudite and entertaining when it comes to design...and, of course, has photos.  I particularly enjoy the way she will visually walk you through past and present applications of designers and styles.  
• Okay, look, I'm addicted to books.  You already figured that out.  I cheat, by saying that so many of my volumes are "research" which feeds my "obsession" about my various addictions.  But, forever have I loved the smell, the feel, the heft, along with the content of books.  Since my theme here today includes the visual, I am going to point you toward BibliOdyssey, which is all about the graphic as well as the tome.  Fairly serious about content and history.  (In the past, I've mentioned Book by it's Cover, which focuses more on modern era graphics and volume design.)

So the rules are:

1. You have to pass it (the award) on to 5 other fabulous blogs in a post.

2. You have to list 5 of your fabulous addictions in the post.

3. You must copy and paste the rules and the instructions below in the post. (easy Below)

Instructions: On your post of receiving this award, make sure you include the person that gave you the award and link it back to them. When you post your five winners, make sure you link them as well. To add the award to your post, simply right-click, save image, then “add image” it in your post as a picture so your winners can save it as well. To add it to your sidebar, add the “picture” widget. Also, don’t forget to let your winners know they won an award from you by emailing them or leaving a comment on their blog.

Dirt and Mothering

Mothers know a lot about dirt.

Dirt that needs a bath.  Dirt that needs laundry.  Dirt that the dog brought in.  Dirt that one neighbor tries to offer about another.  Dirt that just won't get out from under the fingernails.  Dirt that gathers into an astonishing mega dust bunny within 24 hours of a vacuuming.

(Hmmm...maybe that's more than 24 hours...but boy, those "bunnies" sure can grow to impressive diameter.)

Anyway, I happen to be a fan of dirt.  Because I'm a gardener.  I like the way dirt smells.  Humus, quality loam, potting soil...I love it all.  I'm a fan of the right dollop of dirt in certain perfumes, too.  Of course, there are variations on what "dirt" means to different sniffers.  Today, since I am chomping at the bit and go out and dig in my own little patch of green, I'm going to offer up a couple of recent favorite scents with "real" dirt inside.

CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt   Yum, yum...and not in a gourmand way.  Not at all.  This is violets on the forest floor, remembering there is green about you, and you get to go for a ride and continue deeper into the woods and stop and smell the humus.  The smell takes you up above the ground to discover the violets (which waft a bit in the air), and then drops you down on the ground again, then mixes them around.  Nice.

Ayala Moriel Rainforest  Okay here's a brand new one to my sniffer, and I am infatuated.  Brings together a couple of passions of mine, galbanum and dirt, on either end of a really fun deep dark dense evolution from one to the other.  Oh, lawsy, where Wild Hunt lets you linger a few feet above the ground on the waft of violets, Rainforest insists you stick with the leaves and the needles and the ground and remember that this growing thing is vegetal, baby.  Ayala calls it a "coniferous chypre," and I can see why.  Vaguely resiny, definitely the green of a mixed forest.  Remember, rainforests don't just exist in tropical zones...you can also meander through a rainforest near the 45th parallel on the Pacific coast.  You won't find piranhas, but should be prepared to encounter socks with Birkenstocks. 

I'm heading out to dig, which has become a traditional Mother's Day gift to me:  protected time in the garden, with ready labor as requested.

Happy Mother's day to all who mother, and all who are remembering their mothers.

What's worse than a discontinued favorite?

Perhaps a discontinued cheap favorite?

About a year ago, I found a deal on Jose Eisenberg J'ose for Women.  No, not Jai Ose by Guy Laroche; J'ose, by Jose Eisenberg.  It seems there was an eponymous scent for men, and one for women.  I got my women's J'ose from a California eBay vendor.  Around $25, 100ml.  $25 which got you a big slug of daytime-suitable comforting amber with a hint of gourmand (which I can generally only take a hint of), and a something I couldn't quite nail.

I liked it enough that I thought I might gift it.  So I waited through a few more auctions of it, wondering if I could finagle a better deal, realized the price was pretty stable, and got a second bottle for $2 more.

Then I worried if I had gone off the deep end.  I was early into perfume, I realized that even then, and wondered if perhaps I might regret this cheap scent purchase--which wasn't going to be so cheap if I didn't end up liking it.

Turns out I was right.  And I was wrong.  I have discovered many other scents I like; a couple of handfuls of ones I love.  My fear of cheap and/or gourmand fatigue has not quite played out, though...I still rather like it, though I rarely reach for it.  I pulled it out today because yesterday, during one of my regular internet search forays, I discovered notes for J'ose.

• Head notes: lemon, armoise, mine ("fresh and aromatic"
• Heart notes: lavender, coffee, mocha ("floral")
• Base notes: patchouli, cedar, musk, hay, amber ("woody amber")

Okay, now I get why there is what seemed to my early nose to be a hint of men's cologne.  "Fresh and aromatic."  I also get why I thought of it as gourmand-y; that which they call floral is total confection, isn't it?  Of course, the "mocha" means sweetish vanilla is part of the concoction.   And I absolutely recognize the source of comfort; hay and amber, hint of wood hanging out there.

This is not an expertly mixed concoction, with a carefully conducted drydown.  It doesn't take long for all the players to start making noise, in relatively consistent proportion.  But it does fine as "you smell good."

Unfortunately, it is nowhere to be found.  

So, rather than being able to offer you a "psssssst...hey, bud..." and open up my trench coat to reveal a link to an online vendor, all I can do is offer you the Jose Eisenberg website, which still seems to let you put a (full price) bottle in your shopping cart.

Or, you can get Eisenberg comfort hose on eBay.

One viscous, one vibrant

Hoo, doggie.

Nikki Saint Phalle is a viscous beast.  Thick, tarry green, no limit to its depths.  Kind of like a broccoli rabe reduction with a hint of arugula at the edge.  I'm going to have to dip my toes in this pool a few times to see how I end up feeling about it...

...but I think there's a strong chance I'll enjoy the accumulated visits.  (Could the adjective here be anything but "strong"???)  

Meanwhile, wafting up and haunting me from another skin patch, a sample of Crepe du Chine.  Holy cow.  This one manages to be green and floral and bubbly all at once.  Curse you, discontinued scent.  Someday, I'm going to follow a heartbreak avoiding rule:  unless the formula is in production RIGHT NOW, just don't go there.  No sniffy.  Forget the waft.  Turn away.  Do not uncork.

Unfortunately, I did not spare my heart today.  There is this fabulous aroma rising from my elbow crook.  A not too flowery floral, ever so slightly effervescent...not at all what I find when I put my nose to skin.  Then it's green, a hint of bubble, just a little powder at the edges.  

And all in varying degrees in the space in between.  And therein lies the magic.  Once upon a time, a history professor introduced me to the idea of the icon in the Orthodox church--it wasn't the object itself, but the space between the icon and the worshipper that was revered.

Nose down, or nose up, I am in a bit of a reverie.  Perhaps I should root for disappointment on the return visit...and yet...today has been such fun.

Vanilla and spring air

Do you still smell of vanilla and spring air?

I saw a production of 1776 last night.  It's great to be at the theater...the smell of the greasepaint...the roar of the crowd...if you are in the audience, the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd....

Naw, the crowd smelled fine.  Not going to launch into a discussion of appropriate scents for close quarters with unfamiliars.  (Though I must say, I was wearing En Passant, and it seemed just right, including for that consideration.)  I was struck, however, when John and Abigail Adams are singing their letters to each other, and John asks

Do you still smell of vanilla and spring air?

It rang a few sympathetic chords.  First of all, spring has been a long time coming here in the Great Lakes midwest, and yesterday was notable for being a flat out true spring day, with a variety of birds chirping, sun shining, additional bulbs blooming, hosta peeking up, no jacket required, people in the park, etc. etc.  And the day continued into night, weatherwise, for the very first time.  I was able to step outside during intermission and leave my coat inside.  The air was fresh, but no longer winter crisp.  Today's rain is going to bring the perfect note on top, the smell of wet warmed earth and green growing bursting through.

Do you still smell of vanilla and spring air?

The line also got me thinking historically.  There's been a lot of love going around the blogs for Vanille Galante recently.  Haven't had a chance to try it myself.  Certainly have enjoyed vanilla in other perfumes, like Kenzo Amour, and Organza Indecence.  But vanilla, the pods, the extract, the cooking, the texture...that's what would have scented Abigail.  Abigail there in the northeast, also spending every year anticipating spring.  Abigail, encouraging her spouse to his cause, raising kids on her own on a farm that was failing.  Making saltpeter.  Do you suppose she made saltpeter, and wondered if that was what her spouse now smelled like?  (Of course, he was in congress, not at war.)

Do you still smell of vanilla and spring air?

A lot of us are switching to trying to smell like spring air right now, or at least adjusting our scents to work with the spring air.  And, of course, there is the perennial question of the Signature Scent, the holy grail of the one perfume you could wear always.  That defines you, by reflecting you and/or describing you.  Inviting a discussion about what it means to be described:  does it capture a set of experienceable qualities?  does it translate knowns into an amalgamated metaphor of you?  does it provide something new, something other, which isn't a document of tangibles but of an idea of you?

...spring air...

There is of course a metaphor lurking right on the surface of that lyric.  Does Abigail literally smell of spring air, as she does of vanilla?  Does John think of her smell as that scent idea, whatever the clean fresh growing smell of spring means to a given individual?  

...do you still smell of...

I needed this smell of spring air this year.  Of course--is there ever a year when it is not welcome and needed?  But this winter started early, came in hard, and lasted a loooooong time...accompanied by lots of relentless turmoil in my civilian life.  Nothing that shall go in the history books like Franklin, but the kind of thrumming that becomes part of the landscape...until the landscape itself changes.  

Spring, bringer of changes in the landscape.  Visually.  Aurally.  Scentsually.

Do you still smell of vanilla and spring air?

Joy in constancy and familiarity...joy whose absence leads to longing and nostalgia for the same.  And yet, that spring air also brings the idea of change, rebirths, fresh starts.  To have the ability to experience both in one life...

Thank goodness for spring air.

Polders are not Fjords

If you go to Luckyscent, and click on L'essence de Mastenbroek Eau de Polder, you will see that you are helpfully offered other scents you might like.  (The usual routine:  "If you like Jingle Bells, you might like White Christmas / The Christmas Song / Bell Jamboree.")  Among the suggestions for Eau de Polder fans: Geir Ness Geir.

Not.

That's like saying if you like South Pacific, you might like The Year of Living Dangerously or March of the Penguins.  Sure, all are stories whose geographical setting helps inform the action.  Yet, they are very different stories and realizations.  Likewise,  Eau de Polder and Geir are both supposed to be inspired by specific landscapes.  Contemplate the official copy for each:  

• Geir:  "feel the Power of Norway which captures the cool freshness of crisp Norwegian mountains and the warm, sensual scent of exotic herbs and spices"
• Eau de Polder:   "L’Essence de Mastenbroek is a perfume that expresses, in a variety of aromas, how life is in the polder of Mastenbroek..."     Luckyscent reveals the chosen aromas to include grass, hay, and herbs. (Story here; Luckyscent notes here.)

But inspiration is a conceptual link; in execution and experience, these two scents are nothing like each other.  (You can find how I felt about Geir Ness' women's scent, Leila, in an older post.)  It seems I embrace the polder...and leave the power of Norway to someone else.

I find Eau de Polder to be a wonderful embrace of sun, grass, hay, sweet...vaguely herbal in a garden and not medicinal way.  Remember, I'm the one who loves Bois Blond, who enjoys a well done amber, who gets pleasure when things like violet are anchored in the dirt and grass or hay are a bit warmed by the sun.  So anything that's sweet, viscous, and from the earth is a likely candidate to please me.

Yesterday, I tried Eau de Polder for the first time...but I've a feeling it's going to be one of those that always translate into "happy spot" when applied.

"Delivery Systems" -- Lentisque

In my household, we have a kind of running joke:  Bread, potatoes, pancakes, waffles...all delicious...but often, as prepared, they end up being "butterfat delivery systems."  How would you like your butter today, goes the gag...carried by whole wheat or sourdough?  Waffle or pancake? Perhaps on a baked potato?

This approach works for other forms of dairy fat, too.  For example... half & half is delicious when you spike it with some coffee.  (Sugar optional.)

Such are examples of gustatory delivery systems in my house.  And such was the joke I thought of when taking a hit on my left wrist this morning, which sports 06130 Lentisque today.  Officially described as an "homage to the pistachio tree," and listed by Helg as one of her perfumes of spring, I am also connecting it to a perfume of spring.  Apres L'Ondee.  But why?

Heliotropin.

I think I might be crazy.  But...an hour into it, I huff, and sure enough, I smell...L'Heure Bleu Apres L'Ondee heliotropin.  Hmmph. 

Mind you, I like it.  And this is my concern.  Is my nose just manufacturing my experience, or my brain mixing the signal?  Do I like heliotropin so much, my body is willing to cross the wires so that  Lentisque, Ambret Seeds, Jasmine, Melon, Oris(Iris), Turkish Rose Absolute, Musk, Haitain Vetiver oli, Voluptuous Amber  /whatever ingredients are really there organize themselves to register as heliotropin?  Am I missing something?  Could the ambrette be evoking this reaction?  After all, it is not flat out L'Heure Bleu I am feeling here.  Just a haunting.

(Maybe my body is just being very smart; research has shown that the aroma of heliotropin reduces anxiety.)

Whatever is "true" here, I know that I am enjoying Lentisque.  I'm just a little too distracted by this "am I smelling what I think I am?" thing to give it a full and fair description.  I'll return to Lentisque, and attempts to describe it...but for now, am enjoying it as a medium-light vaguely green heliotropin delivery system.

Kind of like taking your half & half with moderate amounts of coffee and a light hit of sugar, or your butter on a fresh baked slice of medium bodied vaguely whole grain blend. 

Play it like a harmonica...

Not layering exactly--rather, in series.

Lay down a couple of swatches next to each other, then run nose from one to the other.  Kind of like you play the notes on a harmonica.

For example, today:  Yves Rocher Voile d'Ambre next to Penhaglion's Elixir. Run your sniffer over the two in that order. Yummy spicy nice.  Fun for surprise snow.