Book review: Scent & Subversion brings vintage perfumes to glorious life

By Donna   “A gourmand leather and tobacco fragrance so good it belongs to a rare scent category for me: perfume so good I want to drink it. Dark vanilla and creamy white florals voluptuously bloom as leather, tobacco and civet rise up. Peach and plum add some bruised sweetness.” -excerpt from the description of Lanvin's Rumeur (1934) in  Scent & Subversion: Decoding a Century of Provocative Perfume  by Barbara Herman As regular readers of this blog know by now, I have a serious ongoing love affair with vintage perfume. Most books about perfume seem to about the inner workings of the industry (Chandler Burr's The Perfect Scent) or reviews of currently available fragrances (Perfumes: The Guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez). There are also books about the history of perfume, or how fragrances are made, filled with pictures of Bulgarian rose fields and Middle Eastern spice markets. I enjoy reading all kinds of books about fragrance, but there has always been something missing. At last, now there is a book that celebrates the perfumes of the past and really tells us what they smell like: Scent & Subversion: Decoding a Century of Provocative Perfume by Barbara Herman. Many of you may also be readers of Ms. Herman's delightful blog, Yesterday's Perfume. The logical next step from writing reviews and giving us fascinating historical tidbits about vintage scents was writing a book, and I am so very glad that she did. The book takes us on a decade-by-decade journey from the origins of modern perfumery up to the end of the twentieth century. Iconic fragrances such as Houbigant's Fougère Royale (1882) and Guerlain's Jicky (1889) were revolutionary in their time, marking the beginning of the era when synthetic materials were first used in perfumery; this advance made it possible for an explosion of creativity that continues today as perfumers use everything in their arsenals to make interesting, unusual and yes, provocative fragrances instead of the simple floral waters that were popular before that time. The “subversion” part comes from the hidden language of perfumes; the animalic and indolic essences used to compose them can speak louder than words and express the intentions of the wearer with no verbal explanation needed. This was also a time when women were finding ways to express themselves beyond the boundaries of hearth and home, and perfumery reflected this seismic cultural shift. Caron's fiercely feral Tabac Blond (1919) was made for covering up the smell of cigarette smoke, which was still a shocking habit for women at the time. Lanvin's My Sin (1924) is nominally a floral, but oh, what a floral it is, narcotically sweet, redolent, mesmerizing, with animal base notes that virtually growl. It is also one of my own favorite examples of what the now-banned nitro musks contributed to perfumery. Ms. Herman aptly compares their use in fragrances to the way foods taste and feel with and without butter, a perfect analogy; today's perfumes just can't capture that feeling. The book is seductive in its own right – I could not put it down as I eagerly devoured every page. After an introduction that details the author's own developing fascination “real” perfume, the heart of her book is an overview of a broad spectrum of famous (and not so famous) perfumes through the years. Where possible, the main fragrance notes are also listed along with her own impressions. Many of the fragrances are those that I also know and love, and as I got into the later chapters I found “vintage” perfumes that I remember from before they were vintage, being a lady of a certain age myself. The author's descriptions made me look at them with new eyes, and now I want to rediscover such once-common gems as Revlon's Intimate (1955) and Moon Drops (1970) all over again. It is made even more enticing by the impressive array of vintage print perfume ads on almost every page, many of which I had never seen before and some of which are hilariously retro, and little-known historical details and fun facts about the perfume houses and perfumers that will be like so much catnip to avid readers. What I found most engaging in this book is the unabashed love and enthusiasm it projects – this is not an “expert's” careful dissection of notes or a scientific treatise on perfume making. It's an extended fan letter written by a true amateur, someone very much like me, like us, like so many perfume fanatics who fall into the perfume world and get hopelessly pulled in by the romance, the history, the glamour, the personalities, and the sheer beauty of the perfumes themselves. The book's third act is a bit of a surprise – it has a section that tells how modern perfumery is rising to the challenge of making perfumes that are neither bland nor boring, but continuing the heritage of the greats of the past, including Christopher Brosius of CB I Hate Perfume and Antoine Lie, the perfumer for the avant-garde house of Etat Libre d'Orange, known for its sometimes shocking fragrances and packaging. It is reassuring to know that today's niche and artisan perfumers are turning their backs on the corporate mainstream and its increasingly restrictive rules and making perfume that speaks from the heart. It ends with a very informative “Perfume 101” section on how to learn about perfume, how to start a vintage fragrance collection, a glossary, and a list of recommended reading. I predict with confidence that this book will be on everyone else's list of recommended reading from now on – it's indispensable, and more fun than should be legal. What are you waiting for, go get your copy! Image credit: the cover of Scent and Subversion via barnesandnoble.com Disclosure: I purchased my copy of this book.

Fabulous Fragrances Book Review

By Alyssa In our current world of blogs, Burr, and Turin&Sanchez perfume criticism it’s easy to giggle a little while paging through Jan Moran’s Fabulous Fragrances: A Guide to Prestige Perfumes. Released in 1994, by Moran’s own Beverly Hills-based Crescent House Publishing, Fabulous is proud of its industry and celebrity connections. It features a blurb from Elizabeth Taylor on the front cover (along with a photo of the author), and one from Annette Green, then president of the Fragrance Foundation, on the back. Its perfume “profiles”—they’re not reviews—often include long quoted stories from designers and stars explaining how they created their perfumes, followed up by descriptions of said celebrities’ charitable activities. Many profiles end with a list of “famous patrons.” (Who knew Princess Diana of Wales was such a perfumista? Or that Jackie Onassis, Elsa Peretti and Imelda Marcos had such similar tastes?) In the introduction Gale Hayman—wife of Fred Hayman and co-owner of their Beverly Hills boutique—takes full credit for unleashing Giorgio on the world. (That is, after ignoring the advice Karl Lagerfeld gave her over lunch to “forget it” if it took her longer than two years to create her perfume.) Moran portrays herself as a Texas girl and a savvy businesswoman with a Harvard MBA. She is both—her other industry projects include a collaboration with Michael Edwards—but the persona Fabulous projects is that of a gracious (and quite fabulous) Beverly Hills doyenne. By the time the slightly updated Fabulous Fragrances II comes out in 2000—and I don’t, by the way, find I need both books—Moran has become Countess Moran of Lemnos. With so much smoke and stardust in our eyes we could be excused for missing the fact that Fabulous is, at its core, a fairly solid resource book. Moran’s introductory chapters provide good advice about discovering one’s taste in perfume and the uses of a perfume wardrobe. They also offer cogent historical information on trends in perfume and succinct definitions of traditional perfume categories (chypre, oriental and so on) and the different strengths of perfume (edp, edt and so on). Each of the 350 perfume profiles includes a full list of notes, and the year of release. Moran’s prose is warm and clear. She writes particularly well about older classics, and a surprising number of Carons, Chanels, Goutals and Guerlains and such pop up among soon-to-be-forgotten newer releases and blockbusters from the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. The profiles are arranged alphabetically (I find it confusing to have the perfumes separated from their houses but I must be in the minority since this is common in guides) and they are augmented by a list of “honorable mentions” that didn’t quite make the “prestige perfume” cut. The latter third of the book groups the perfumes by their respective categories, and includes a glossary of “perfume ingredients,” (sometimes these are notes rather than actual materials) and a buyers guide. Obviously the listings are dated, but since I’m reading as a collector rather than a normal person shopping for a signature perfume, I enjoy hearing about underappreciated or now-discontinued scents and find the whole a useful snapshot of the time period. In fact, I enjoy all of Fabulous, from the star-studded bits to Moran’s enthusiastic praise of perfumes she clearly loves. I still giggle, but it’s affectionate laughter: the countess knows her stuff. I bought my copy of Fabulous used, online, where it is widely available, as is Fabulous II.

The Scented Garden

By Alyssa My first thought, on reading Ann Lovejoy’s Fragrance in Bloom: The Scented Garden Throughout the Year (Sasquatch Books, 2004) was—she’s one of us! I’ve always suspected there is a lot of overlap between perfume fans and gardeners (cooks and wine fans, too), and there are striking similarities Lovejoy’s approach to scent in the garden and the way we discuss perfume. I’m only an armchair gardener, but I was thoroughly charmed by this book and I believe anyone else interested in scent will be, too. Fragrance in Bloom is less a compendium of fragrant plants and gardening directions than a series of chapters about seasonal scents in the garden—how they work, when they don’t, things to try, and most especially how to grow plants next to one another in the garden to create what Lovejoy calls “living perfumes.” In one area we may intermingle a series of gentle scents... Elsewhere, delicate fragrances build up to stronger ones, which are then tempered by sharp or stringent neighbors. We learn to use distinctly contrasting scents for refreshment, pairing the spicy, yarrowlike aroma of lavender cotton…with the velvety jungle perfume of petunias, or mixing dreamy mignonette with brisk living thyme. Lovejoy recommends writing down personal likes and dislikes, noting that our tastes are likely to change as we explore and learn to appreciate the subtleties of scent. She also recommends keeping a few areas of the garden relatively free of scented plants because “Once we become really awake to plant perfumes, it is quite easy to get carried away.” Sound familiar? The author herself is no stranger to getting carried way, and her lack of embarrassment about this is part of what makes the book a delight. The following description of an old honeysuckle vine is a typical example of her style: In my present garden, Hall’s honeysuckle had announced itself to my nose long before it was revealed to the eye by a swinging machete. The enormous old plant had twisted itself around a companionable climbing rose—a sweet old thing with fragrant, crumpled flowers like puffs of pale pink tissue. Twined tightly together, they filled the arms of an elderly apple tree. By night, their combined scents make a wandering, winsome perfume that recalls the old Lee Wiley number called “Honeysuckle Rose,” in which she sings of love far sweeter than sugar. This perfume is like that: sweet yet spicy, soft yet penetrating. It arrives in pulses on the warm evening air, now stronger, now fainter, retreating with the breeze, bolstered by a drop in temperature. After a day of heavy rain, the scent rolls in like fog, luring me out to the garden bench to watch the moon wheel across the luminous night sky. As this passage makes clear, though Fragrance in Bloom is full of pertinent tips and facts, Lovejoy is more interested in bringing us along with her through the garden than in lecturing us. She is a supremely companionable guide, full of good humor and clearly devoted to enjoying herself, as we learn from many anecdotes, including this aside, which appears in a section on jasmine: Spanish jasmine…is a fast grower when happy, producing lots of lacy, twining leaves in opposite pairs. They have a grip like a baby, gentle but implacable, and if you let this vine wander where it chooses, it can be hard to untwine those tight coils without seriously disturbing the unwilling host. (One year, my indoor plant engulfed the vacuum cleaner. Naturally, I was loath to sacrifice all that incipient bloom, so I was forced to wait until spring cleaning to vacuum again…) Well, naturally! When I think about why the vacuum cleaner was parked under the flower basket instead of in the closet, and what life must be like in a household where such a thing could happen without anyone noticing until it was too late (surely someone was watering the flowers?) I feel certain that Ann Lovejoy is a woman who has her priorities straight, and is wholly to be trusted—or, at least, someone who knows how tell a good story. Lovejoy is a Northwesterner and her plant choices are appropriate to that climate. She is also clearly working with a full yard of space. However, she recommends beginning with potted plants to try out scent combinations more easily, and I found much to be inspired by, though I live in the Southwest. The book is roughly organized around the progression of the seasons, with chapters on spring, summer, and so on, but the exception to this rule, the especially wonderful chapter, “Night-Fragrant Plants,” reveals that Lovejoy’s true interest is context—the time of day, the company we keep, whether we require soothing or stimulation, where we are sitting, or walking (or kneeling—many of her wintertime recommendations are for plants that sweeten the chore of digging in the cold mud) in the garden. Thus we learn which plants require sniffing close-up and which require ten feet of space in which to properly announce their scents, the difference between honeysuckle in the morning (“light and floral”), afternoon (faded, slightly spicy) and the evening (“rich and satiny smooth”) and how to make any party better by planting datura, a highly poisonous plant whose lush scent is a natural intoxicant, in pots around your seating areas. This last was a technique Lovejoy discovered one summer when she hosted a friend’s datura collection: “I was commenting that our summer gatherings had been especially hilarious and wonderful lately, when a knowing botanist explained that the cause was more likely the datura than any sudden increase of wit and charm on our parts.” Clearly I’ve been a little intoxicated myself by Fragrance in Bloom, as this is less a review than a fan letter. (I’m even thinking of doing a little gardening!) Do comment if you’ve had experience growing scented plants or have other books on the subject to recommend. Note: Lovejoy has written many other books. You can find more of her writing, including recipes from the garden and tips on organic garden design, at her regularly updated site, annlovejoy.org Photo Credit: Pink Datura by overthemoon on flickr.