A Japanese Gem

By Marla Shiseido Koto, a serene green floral chypre, was launched in 1967 in Japan. Top notes are soft aldehydes, citrus, and herbs. Heart notes are narcissus, gardenia, orris root, jasmine, lily of the valley, jonquil and rose. Base notes are oakmoss, patchouli, leather, amber, vetiver and castoreum. I found a bottle of this subtle delight on the Big Bay for around $20. I love the Classic Zen (black bottle), by Shiseido, and Koto launched at about the same time. They are sister scents, beautifully retro. Where Zen Classic is somewhat stern, a “touch me not” little black dress of a scent, Koto is soft, like sunlight filtering through Japanese paper screens. There is no sweetness in Koto, but the white floral accord shines through the classic chypre structure. It reminds me a little of Guerlain’s Chamade, but, where Chamade’s color is a rich gold, Koto’s is a glowing ivory. Definitely the best perfume to wear while practicing ikebana, and listening to the koto, of course. I encourage anyone who loves green, retro, or chypre scents to try Koto.

Foodie Sunday: Oh what a night!ŠMy favorite Hangover Remedy and a Spicy Prize draw!

By Beth Oh my….it WAS one of THOSE nights! By yesterday Jim and I were definitely ready for a serious night of partying. One of the delightful parts of our new diet regimen is a once a week splurge, so after my evening of volunteering down at Severance Hall we decided that venturing downtown to meet our friends Steve and Freida for drinks was the perfect remedy for what had truly been a very long week! We found ourselves in the middle of a very hip, trendy sushi bar where my pal was holding court , charming anyone within 30 feet, with her admiring husband Steve just watching her with a huge grin on his face. That's my friend Freida though…she's fairly irresistible and makes friends wherever she goes, many of them being serious "A" listers that she's never heard of until someone lets her know who they actually are. We met the two of them when our kids were dating, and we hit it off immediately much to the dismay of our children. We've traveled together , shared many a meal , share the same wedding anniversary, lived through the breakup of our children , demanded custody rights of each other and have vowed to never be separated. The four of us just have a ball together. Freida is the ultimate girl-power friend. I've written about her before but one of the many reasons that I love her is that she refuses to have fun alone. She's fiercely competitive in all of the right ways, but not with her women friends, with us she has a heart as huge as Everest. Going shopping with her is wonderful because even though she's a stunning and petite 5'3, bombshell blonde who works out obsessively and has the body to prove it, she wants you to have as much fun trying on clothes as she does. She dresses me and I teach her about perfume and porcelain…it's a fabulous trade. She does have a wicked side though and If she's having a blast she wants you to be having it too, which is how I found myself last night around midnight with at least one too many drinks in my hand cornered by perhaps the most obnoxiously fascinating faux power couple that I've ever met and being regaled with tales of their status and lifestyle, finding out way more than I ever wanted to know about anyone. Freida had met them while she was waiting for us and was obviously fascinated by their newly minted pretentiousness, so she drew me into the conversation where I learned among other things that her husband was "The Viagra Doctor" who keeps her up every night until 3:00 in the morning and then takes the kiddo's to school for her. More Belvedere and Ice please….It was absolutely hilarious but required more than a bit of liquid courage to tolerate. When they finally left the four of us kicked back , had more sushi, more Belvedere and more than a few good laughs unashamedly at their expense. It was then I found out that Freida had been sharing with her tales of my entertaining and personal shopping prowess and customer list, also giving her my retainer fee and at the same time letting her know that I probably wouldn't have time for a few months to take her on as a client. It was then that I realized why I had been feeling like cougar bait for the last hour or so. Did I mention that I adore my friend Freida? She's utterly fabulous! About an hour later we headed off to the Velvet Tango Room , snagged a table and a few gorgeous martinis, a cigarette or two (yes, I had one!) and Freida announced that she was ravenous and we headed towards the nearest Denny's…yes you heard me right, Denny's! Two plates of onion rings , a few egg, cheese and ham sandwiches and a breakfast burrito, french fries and many diet pepsi's later we kissed, laughed and parted company. It was fabulous..the kind of evening that you can only have with true comrades. Now though, some hair of the dog is absolutely necessary so it's time for a Bloody Mary. I make mine with clam juice, tomato juice, some Penzeys crab seasoning a bit of brown sugar, fresh horseradish, a squeeze of lemon juice, a pinch of celery salt, garlic, minced onion and a really good dill pickle spear and oh yes..some Bakon vodka. Pour all the ingredients over ice, stir with the pickle and add two strips of smoky , thick bacon, a skewer of smoked mussels and lay back under the covers with some cucumber slices over your eyes and the covers pulled high. So what's your favorite hangover remedy? Leave it for me in the comments and I'll send you my favorite bloody mary spice mix and a few scented surprises! Happy Foodie Sunday my friends…Enjoy the sunshine and the Bloody Mary's. You don't need a hangover, but it helps:) Photo of sushi bar from http://beegan-ad.com Photo of Bakon Vodka from Bakon Vodka

So Montale Walks Into a Tiki Bar: Chypré Fruité, Mango Manga and Vanille Absolu

By Donna The house of Montale is so well known for its arsenal of oud-heavy fragrances that some of their other offerings don't get much attention. They don't always get it right when they stray too far from their tried and true formula of oud, roses, spices and woods, but many of their other fragrances are really very good, although they are rarely subtle. Let it be said that I love their approach to fragrance marketing; it's go big or go home with them, no shy or delicate perfumes (or timid customers) need apply. Chypré Fruité has been around for a while, but it's not one that gets talked about very much. It should be, because it's not one of the sillage monsters of the line. I was expecting something brash and maybe a little crude before I first smelled it, but it's very civilized and far less obvious than Badgley Mischka, which I love and think of as the gold standard for modern fruity chypres. It does go on with an emphatic fruity beginning, but it's well embedded in a structure of bergamot, white florals, rose, moss, and patchouli. Including “tropical” fruit notes in a chypre scent could easily translate into disaster, but this works nicely. I can't say exactly which fruits are implied here; it's an abstract mélange of the kind of ideas that are usually found in the Escada annual summer launches, but with a spine this time. With some Montales, one spritz or dab is more than enough, but I can spray myself down liberally with Chypré Fruité and still go out in public. (Truth be told, I would not mind at all if it were a little more assertive, but I have Badgley Mischka for that.) After a couple of hours it settles in as a musky skin scent that lasts for hours and reveals a balmy warmth once the fruits finally fade away. The rather strange Mango Manga is a 2010 launch that takes the fruity theme to the next level with a weird and wonderful mango reconstruction that has some of the raspiness you get when you eat a fresh mango and it stings your lips a little bit; did you know that mangoes are in the same family as poison ivy and other plants with irritating chemicals in their leaves and fruits? I think that little tingle is part of the reason I love mango so much. (Anyone who knows me well is aware that I am virtually obsessed with all things mango, edible or not.) Mango Manga has that plus the peculiar sweetness of mango and a damp, rubbery undertone that really brings to mind tropical jungle undergrowth, steamy and close. It's probably a deal-breaker for a lot of people, but I can't get enough of this oddball of a perfume. It smells like a Malaysian rubber tree plantation, or somebody's basement party room in the early Sixties with fake vinyl palm trees, music by The Ventures on the sound system, and both umbrella drinks and polyester Hawaiian shirts flowing freely. If I had a bottle of this, I would douse myself with it liberally on hot days, then put on a gaudily printed sundress and go stick my feet in an inflatable kiddie pool for the perfect summer experience. One of Montale's stalwarts is Vanille Absolu, a heavy, boozy vanilla scent with a touch of woods and spice. I say a touch, because this is one of the most unapologetically vanilla-centric perfumes I have ever smelled, on a par with the offerings of Comptoir Sud Pacifique. It really doesn't matter what else might be in here, because it's all about the rich, dark vanilla, foody indeed, yet it's apparent that the materials are of the best quality. If it smells a lot like a freshly opened bottle of vanilla extract at first, well, it's the best vanilla extract around. There is also a distinct whiff of Captain Morgan® spiced rum because of the cinnamon and clove, and the sensory link between dark rums made from molasses and the aromatic compounds in vanilla is made clear. This type of fragrance could have been trashy and tiresome in the wrong hands, but thankfully it is an excellent composition that has legendary longevity and dries down to a creamy sweetness that's well-nigh irresistible. Of course, after a while you might end up mysteriously craving one of Trader Vic's® rum cocktails. Don't say I didn't warn you. Montale perfumes are available at selected boutiques and department stores. Online, Chypré Fruité and Vanille Absolu are available at Luckyscent, while Mango Manga can be found at Parfums Raffy along with others in the line. Image credit: Tropical cocktails wallpaper from wallcoo.net Disclosure: The perfumes reviewed in this blog post are from my own collection and from samples traded with friends.

Turtle Vetiver Front by LesNez

By Tom One of the things that I really like about LesNez (in addition to really loving some of their work) is that they've never fallen into the trap of feeling that they have to release something on a schedule X many times a year. I always think that if one has nothing to say then don't speak. LesNez waits until they have something to say. Turtle Vetiver Front is a continuation of the late and much lamented Turtle Vetiver. It's a creation of Isabelle Doyen and is meant to be an "Outlaw Perfume in Progress", which means that it's a limited edition. Which I hate. I hate that because this is a winner and deserves to stick around. Vetiver here is perfectly played: in turns smoky and warm yet crystalline and icy, and very rooty. As the scent progresses it becomes warmer and more skin-like. The lasting power is phenomenal: the scent I sprayed on in the morning was easily discernible upon waking the next am. Frankly, it's the best vetiver I've smelled since Vero Kern's Onda, and that's saying something.. Available at the LesNez website or at LuckyScent, $120 for 50ML. My sample was sent by LesNez

To Boldly Go….

Mini Reviews by Marla, the Nerd Girl First, I want to express my pride over owning Star Trek Fotonovels. They are awesome, and the cover of my favorite is gracing this article. OK, now on to the mini-reviews. The gracious and tasteful Musette of Perfume Posse agreed to send me some samples of things I’ve been dying to try, in exchange for bits of some of the more unusual items in my international perfume collection. I’ve been having so much fun! Yes, there’s the good, the bad, and the ugly, I love trying them all. Here are mini-reviews of eight. The Good: 1. Beyond Love by Kilian: I don’t think I can call myself a tuberose-hater anymore. No, this really isn’t me, but it’s the most radiant bit of tuberose fabulosity I’ve ever smelled. Calice Becker is a Floral Goddess. Anyone who loves tuberose can buy this perfume and put it in the center of their home tuberose shrine. Incredible work! 2. L’Artisan Parfumeur Batucada: This is summer fun in a bottle. What I really like is that perfumers Karine Vinchon (French) and Elisabeth Maier (Brazilian) have created the quintessential summer beach perfume with a little (drumroll) SKANK. Yes, there is a touch of sweaty, tanned skank in the drydown of this sweet, citrusy aquatic, and that makes all the difference. It’s supposed to be about Brazil, but to me, it’s pure South Beach. 3. Tom Ford Violet Blond: The demure cousin of Amaranthine that would never make out with a mysterious stranger in a dark hallway at a party. I love it, but I’m keeping Amaranthine for evenings…. The (Maybe, Kinda, Not Sure) Bad: 4. L’Eau Serge Lutens: More wearable to me than Aqua Universalis Forte, but why do I want to smell like clean, fresh laundry on steroids? I don’t like doing the amount of laundry that I do, and this perfume gives me nightmares about Zombie Laundry, coming alive, climbing the stairs to get me at night…. 5. Bond No. 9 High Line: Sweet greens without the skank. Very similar to Batucada, but without the fun. Pleasant to wear, no complaints, but why bother? And the Ugly: 6. Le Labo Gaiac 10: I barely smell anything, and what I do smell, briefly, is distinctly unpleasant. No creativity, no artistry, but it costs mucho. Yuck! 7. L’Artisan Mon Numero 10- And who cursed the number 10? Was it IFRA?? This is a not-so-charming mix of apothecary herbs, old wax, and horse liniment. Nice for a barn ambience spray, but not for people. A million light-years from Mon Numero 1, the tap-dancing pear and mimosa, and my favorite of the series. 8. Chloe EdP Rose Edition- Truly the Worst of the Worst. I wouldn’t put a sheet of this in with my laundry. Then again, if it was Zombie Laundry, I would, because it would kill them. So what have you tried lately? Please leave a comment with a one-or-two sentence Mini Review, and make me happy!

Russian Saturday: Chanel Bois des Iles

By Alena Флорентино Ариса сжал ее руку и наклонился поцеловать в щеку. Но она остановила его, и голос с хрипотцой прозвучал мягко: – Не сейчас, - сказала она. - Я пахну старухой." “Любовь во время чумы" Гарбиэль Гарсиа Маркес Последние пару недель я занималась тем, что пыталась собрать свои разрозненные мысли о Bois des Îles в одно целое. Мыслей оказалось много: нас с Bois des Îles связывают долгие годы неровных отношений. Я не успевала с переводом к прошлой субботе (мои извинения!). Зато в субботу я опять оказалась в Париже на блошином рынке. Мне на глаза попался флакон винтажных духов Bois des Îles. Флакон не был вскрыт, но хранился без коробки. Несмотря на отсутствие парафиновой пленки, от горлышка почти не пахло, и определить его сохранность было сложно. Зная, как плохо хранятся Шанели, я все же рискнула. Но о духах позже. Пока – об Bois des Îles из Les Exclusifs de Chanel. В Bois des Îles мне никогда не удавалось расслышать разнообразие нот, заявленных в пирамиде. Альдегиды, которые я так люблю за умение сжимать пространство в точку, здесь не являют своих свойств. В Bois des Îles я узнаю их только по рассеянному солнечному свету в тумане. Bois des Îles пахнет июльскими бело-молочными яблоками с тонкой, как кожица, которую сдираешь языком с обожженного неба, шкуркой. Он пахнет промокшей книгой, забытой во время теплого летнего дождя на старой веранде, старой влажной древесиной: это ирисовая пудра с примесью сандалового дерева. Bois des Îles, наверное, единственный аромат, в котором я выношу ирис в таком количестве. Обычно та расслабленная меланхолия, которой ирис заражает все, к чему он прикасается, для меня невыносима. В Bois des Îles мне всегда не хватало дна, почвы на которую можно было бы опереться ногами. Не хватало заземляющей, отрезвляющей жесткости ветивера. Я стала носить его в паре с Sycomore Chanel: Bois des Îles за уши, Sycomore на запястья. Sycomore придал Bois des Îles четкости и прозрачности, на которую аромат был способен только на сухом морозе. А где его взять в нашем климате, сухой мороз? Зато Sycomore всегда под рукой. Так я стала "глупой девушкой, смешивающей духи" (с) Ги Робер В последние пол года Bois des Îles стал подводить меня. В нем появилась сухая горячая древесность, та самая, о которой часто пишут в ревью. И мне это не нравилось. Стало пахнуть сухим миндальным печеньем и тем, до сих пор загадочным, “gingerbread”, упоминающимся в некоторых пирамидах. И мне это нравилось еще меньше. Сначала я списала эти изменения в звучании аромата на погоду, потом на восприятие. Мне не хотелось думать, что это первые признаки необратимого изменения в химии кожи, с которым рано или поздно прийдется столкнуться: " Флорентино Ариса внутренне содрогнулся: да, она была права, от нее пахло терпко, возрастом. Но пока добирался до главной каюты сквозь лабиринт уснувших гамаков, он утешился мыслью, что и его запах, верно, был точно таким же, только четырьмя годами старше, и она, наверное, почувствовала то же самое. Это был запах человеческих ферментов, он слышал его у своих самых старинных подруг, а они слышали этот запах у него." Я не боюсь старости. Я боюсь лишиться привычной ольфакторной картины мира, целостностью которой я дорожу, так же, как целостностью души. Каждая переформулировка, каждая новая “рекомендация” IFRA отнимает у меня ее часть. Но когда ее отнимает собственная кожа, это по-настоящему больно. Единственный выход, который я вижу из этой ситуации: носить аромат не на коже, а на ткани. Прийдется пожертвовать чувственным сплешевым намазом, зато элегантный платочек на шее может решить сразу две проблемы: звучания парфюма и морщин. Самое время начать учиться носить шейные платки. Мне всегда хотелось знать, какими задумывал Bois des Îles Эрнест Бо. Однажды мне уже доводилось попробовать винтажные духи, “пожиловатые”, как охарактеризовала духи их хозяйка. В них было гораздо больше альдегидов, чем в современной туалетке, больше нероли и бергамота. Эти ноты на какое время сдержали натиск, но меланхолическая ирисовая волна накрыла меня и в духах и не дала мне приблизиться к их сути. Это так в характере Bois des Îles: напускать туману. О пожилом возрасте моих духов можно догадаться только по немного ускоренному развитию, что не характерно для этой концентрации. Ноты разворачивались быстро, как звуковая дорожка в старом кино. Духи будто спешили жить свою неожиданную вторую жизнь. В общих чертах она была похожа на жизнь своей правнучки. Зато сандал, который открылся в базе, заставил меня забыть все, что я знала о сандале. Я не знала, что сандал может звучать так мягко и объемно. Вот они, островные леса со всей своей красе: темные экзотические деревья в туманной дымке. Bois des Îles – меланхолия во флаконе. Разве в нашей жизни есть время, когда ей можно предаваться без зазрения совести? Bois des Îles – это бездонность, бесконечное свободное падение в невесомые объятия грусти. ----------------- "Go now," she said. Florentino Ariza pressed her hand, bent toward her, and tried to kiss her on the cheek. But she refused, in her hoarse, soft voice. "Not now," she said to him. "I smell like an old woman." Love in the Time of Cholera Gabruek Garcua Narquez For a couple of past weeks I've been gathering my fragmented thoughts about Bois des Îles into one entity. It appeared to be a lot of thoughts: me and Bois des Îles have many years of an uneven relationship. I couldn't make the translation for last Saturday (sorry for that!). But on that Saturday I found myself on a flea market in Paris again. My eyes caught a flacon of a vintage Bois des Îles perfume. It hasn't been open yet, but was kept without a box. Despite the absence of paraffin film, there was no smell around the neck, so it was difficult to figure out its condition. Even knowing that Chanel scents don't withstand time well, I took the risk. But let's leave the perfume for later. And start with Bois des Îles from Les Exclusifs de Chanel. I could never recognise the variety of notes announced in the pyramid of Bois des Îles. Aldehydes, those I adore for their ability to compress the space into a point, do not reveal their abilities here. In Bois des Îles I recognise them only by a sunlight diffused through a mist. Bois des Îles smells of June's milk-white apples with skin as thin as one that you peel of with the tongue when you burn the roof of your mouth. It smells of a wet book that was left on an old terrace during summer rain. It smells of old soaked wood: that's an iris powder with a tincture of sandalwood. Bois des Îles is, possibly, the only scent where I could stand iris in such quantity. Usually the relaxed melancholy, with which iris contaminates everything it touches, is unbearable for me. I always missed some foundation in Bois des Îles, the soil I could stand on. I missed grounding, sober rigidness of vetiver. I started to wear it together with Sycomore Chanel: Bois des Îles behind the ears, Sycomore on wrists. Sycomore gave Bois des Îles the sharpness and transparency that the scent itself had only at dry frost. But where do you get it, the dry frost, in our climate? And Sycomore is always at hand. That's how I became a "stupid girl mixing perfumes together." (с) Guy Robert Last half year Bois des Îles started to betray me. It revealed hot dry wood, the one that's often mentioned in reviews. And I didn't like that. It started to smell of dry almond cookies, and, until now mysterious, "gingerbread", mentioned in some pyramids. And that I liked even less. Initially I blamed these changes on weather, then on my perception. I didn't want to think that these are the first signs of inevitable changes in skin's chemistry, those you have to deal with sooner or later: “Florentino Ariza shuddered: as she herself had said, she had the sour smell of old age. Still, as he walked to his cabin, making his way through the labyrinth of sleeping hammocks, he consoled himself with the thought that he must give off the same odour, except his was four years older, and she must have detected it on him, with the same emotion. It was the smell of human fermentation, which he had perceived in his oldest lovers and they had detected in him.” I'm not afraid of age. I fear to loose the olfactory picture of the world I'm used to, whose integrity I esteem not less than integrity of a soul. Every re-formulation, every new "recommendation" of IFRA takes a part of it away from me. But when my own skin takes that part away, it really hurts. The only escape from this situation I see is to wear perfumes on a cloth, rather than on a skin. I'll have to sacrifice the generous splashing but instead the elegant scarf on a neck could solve two problems at once: the way the frgarance developes and wrinkled skin. Perfect time to start learning how to wear it. I always wanted to know how Ernest Beaux conceived Bois des Îles. I already had an occasion to try vintage perfume, "oldish", as it's owner characterised it. There were much more aldehydes in it than in a modern EDT, more neroli and bergamot. For some time these notes were holding the pressure, but then melancholic iris wave overwhelmed me in perfume as well, so I could not come closer to it's essence. To obfuscate is in the nature of Bois des Îles. The only thing that could make you guess the mature age of the perfume I have purchased at the flea market is it's slightly accelerated development. This is not typical for such concentration. Notes unwrap fast, like a soundtrack in an old movie. It's like the perfume was in a hurry to live it's unexpected second life. In general it was similar to a life of it's great-granddaughter. But sandal that opened in a base made me forget everything I knew about sandal. I didn't know it could sound so soft and spacious. Here they are, island forests in all their beauty: dark exotic trees in a mist. Bois des Îles is melancholy in a bottle. Is there a moment in our life when you could indulge in it without compunction? Bois des Îles is an infinite depth, an endless free fall into the embrace of melancholy. Bois des Îles (Ernest Beaux, 1926): aldehydes, coriander, bergamot, neroli, peach, jasmine, rose, lily of the valley, iris, ylang-ylang, vetiver, sandalwood, benzoin, vanilla and musk.

Winner of the Blue Jasmine draw

is Michael. Please send us your details using the link on the right.

Vintage Eye Candy: Nuit de Noel

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Oud Stars - New Line by Xerjoff

Xerjoff will be releasing a new line at the Esxence show in Milan. It is an extension of the "Shooting Stars Line", named "Oud Stars" The collection of 6 scents will be based on traditional Middle Eastern oud blends. No notes are released yet, and pricing will be announced at the show.

Just Go Ask Shelley: Announcing a New Natural Perfumery Book by Shelley Waddington of En Voyage Perfumes

By Donna The mysteries of perfumery are a little less opaque to the rest of us thanks to an excellent book on working with natural fragrance isolates written by perfumer Shelley Waddington, the owner of En Voyage Perfumes. I was especially eager to read it when I first learned of its impending publication, because Shelley just happens to be the author of one of my favorite fragrance releases of 2011, or any year, the wonderful Vents Ardents. I am not alone in my admiration for it, but it was my first exposure to her work and I really wanted to know how she did it. Well now I have an idea, thanks to her new book entitled Perfuming With Natural Isolates: The Complete Reference Manual. This might seem like a dry topic to anyone who is not a perfumer, but I found the book to be very engaging, and it is written in a clear, concise style that makes it easy for the lay person to follow. I have an enthusiastic amateur’s interest in aroma chemicals, perfumery and applied chemistry, but I am far from conversant in the technical language of these specialty fields. This book walked me through the steps so effortlessly that I feel as though my knowledge of this field has been exponentially increased. Anyone who still thinks that natural perfumery consists of hit-or-miss mixing of oils and hoping for the best will be enlightened to the contrary – it’s just as much science as it is art, and the author of this book has mastered both. The first two chapters are devoted to explaining what natural isolates are and how they are extracted from the source materials. Some are obvious, such as limonene from citrus, while others are less familiar to the average person, such as d-carvone from caraway seed. What I found fascinating was which sources are actually used in commerce – it’s obvious that vanillin would be prohibitively expensive if real vanilla pods were the only available source for extracting it, but fortunately this molecule is widely found in nature and is commercially extracted from cloves, which are also the source for eugenol, the “clove and carnation” aromatic isolate; it is also found in such diverse sources as beet sugar, potato skin, coffee and yerba maté. Who knew? Fun fact: the author included an article about how vanillin has been extracted from cow dung by Japanese researchers who hope to use it commercially in non-food sources. It makes sense if you think about it, since it is rich in lignin, the same woody material that makes old books smell sweet as the paper degrades. In the next section, a variety of natural isolates are discussed in depth. Shelley made it easy for people like me by listing the detailed descriptions for each of the specific materials being examined and explaining what each one is suited for - is it a top note that’s gone in an hour, or is it a base note that lasts 400 hours on a scent strip? Each molecule (and the isolates in question are specific molecules, not blends or compounds – she even shows a picture of the actual molecular structure of each one) is analyzed as to where it is found in nature, what its commercial source is, what chemical family it belongs to, whether or not it is associated with any sensitivities or toxicity, and most importantly for the end result, what qualities each one can impart to a finished fragrance when used correctly. She also gives us examples of how a natural perfume isolate might be used to create the effect of a classic fragrance; for example, the great Diorama, a fruity chypre from 1949, would be a fun subject for experimentation with an isolate called raspberry ketone, a long-lasting base note with a sweet, fruity, jammy aroma, with which a perfumer could build a similar perfume with all natural materials. I think my favorite one in the book is strawberry furanone natural – it’s a base note that smells of strawberry, cotton candy, caramel, pineapple and brown sugar – what perfumer could resist playing around with that? I would be like a mad scientist let loose in the lab! Shelley suggests numerous experiments for perfumers to try with each material and lists compatible notes. If I were a perfumer I would be most eager to try them; she gives clear instructions for preparing and mixing materials, as well as safe and proper storage for each type. Did you know that aldehydes are unstable and should be stored under a layer of inert nitrogen? I didn’t, but that would also explain why perfumes with substantial amounts of aldehydes in them tend to “go off” faster than many other fragrances. Shelley shows step by step instructions for recreating historic “handkerchief” perfumes and suggests starting points for building perfumes of specific styles. It made me want to start my own home perfumery laboratory, so it should be even more enticing for those who already have perfume making skills. I can’t recommend this book highly enough for anyone interested in perfumery; from the collector to the beginning student to the serious professional perfumer, as there is something for everyone. (I know I will be referring to it over and over again, and every time I smell a fragrance I will catch a note and think, is that strawberry furanone or maltol I detect? How much eugenol is in that carnation soliflore?) Chapter four is an extensive Q & A section that addresses subjects such as the difference between top and base notes, Schiff’s bases, and the subtle differences between the same isolate extracted from different plant sources. The questions were selected from actual inquiries Shelley has received from both students and perfume professionals. Again, this was highly enlightening and answered questions I did not even realize I needed to ask. Finally there is a glossary, a list of resources for more information on natural isolates, a reading list and a listing of sources for the perfumery materials. Did I mention that the book is also beautifully illustrated? If you want to know how Shelley backs up the expertise demonstrated in the book in her perfumery work, look no further than the latest fragrance launch from En Voyage, the gorgeous Carmel Bohême. It is a reworking of a previous release called Bohemia, which I have never tried. The new scent is a delightfully exuberant composition that captivated me immediately. It begins with a decidedly green burst of citrus, plum and muguet that gradually gives way to a rich floral heart of gardenia and tuberose, both from natural enfleurage sources, plus French jasmine, and a base rich with honey, amber, patchouli and resins makes it last very well. The muguet note lingers on and gives airiness to this fragrance throughout its time on the skin, and I love the way it meshes with the languid tropical floral notes. Fans of classic white floral fragrances are sure to be enchanted by it. It is heady and rich without being overpowering and smells like summer vacation in a bottle; I picture myself relaxing in the midst of a blooming seaside garden while a fresh breeze blows in from the ocean. I also had the opportunity to revisit Shelley’s popular Go Ask Alice from the 2011 Summer of Patchouli Love project. It was not one of my top choices at the time, but perfumes, like wine, need time to age and smooth out the rough edges, and the vial of Go Ask Alice I have now is marvelous- yes, it is still very much a patchouli fragrance, but it’s as smooth as silk and has a beautiful fruity and floral aspect that I did not get in the fresh, “raw” version I tested before. It has a delicious drydown featuring vanilla, Peru balsam, cocoa, vanilla, Tonka bean, real ambergris, and of course patchouli, of a particularly fine vintage from Sumatra. Now this I would definitely wear! I normally do not favor perfumes with patchouli as a major ingredient unless it is embedded in a chypre structure, and especially in a rose chypre style, which works a peculiar magic with a patchouli note, but this is really wearable even for a patch skeptic like me. If I can wear Go Ask Alice, just about anyone can. Image credits: The beautiful Carmel Bohême Extrait de Parfum bottle from envoyageperfumes.com; Detail of mimosa flowers via Wikimedia.org per Creative Commons Share Alike license. Disclaimer: The book and the perfume samples were sent to me gratis by Shelley Waddington for review and testing.