5 Rules for Layering Fragrances

You're not supposed to do it, but I know many of you do. Layering is one way of customizing your scent, making it more personal and also a creative way to make use of your (growing) collection of perfumes.

But I know you're reading this you don't agree with me. But at the same time, I find the drive to do it original and creative, no matter how many times I've met people who do it and take pride in their "blends". And making people feel good when wearing my fragrances is more important to me than being right in this argument.
Knowing that (some of) my audience likes to tweak and make their own "improvements" to what I laboured on long and hard and believe to be the best I can offer - I know that this battle is hopeless from the start. So instead of convincing you why you shouldn't do it - here are the five things you need to know about fragrance layering to make it actually work for you and create that "wow" effect you are after, even though I know just as well that you're going to be more satisfied when you make your own errors and find ways to fix them, all on your own. I also know that rules are probably not exactly what someone who's mixing and matching unrelated fragrances is after - so consider these suggestions, tips, ideas...

1. Simplicity
Choose scents that are simple. i.e.: Soliflores (from The Language of Flowers collection) and single-minded fragrances that are focused around one or two ingredients (such as Vetiver Racinettes or Film Noir) are more likely to create an impact.
If you choose fragrances that are too complex, you are more likely to end up with a rather nondescript scent, or a cacophony of odours. I was tipped by someone on one of the forums (my apologies for not remembering who) to layer Apres l'Ondee with Philosykos. They were right, the violets and fig notes in these two do mix very well together. But I can't imagine two classic Guerlains working well together because these are all a helluva complex, sophisticated fragrances. Adding a little bit of something simple like a single note fig fragrance though creates a surprising results.

2. Weight and Volume
Choose one "light" and one "heavy" fragrances or scents of equal or similar "weight". This is not literally the same as top, heart and base note - but a very similar concept. i.e.: an Oriental or Chypre fragrance is heavier than a citrus. Florals tend to have more of a medium weight (although there are always exceptions to these rules).
Likewise, pairing fragrances that are both very "loud" could clash - both of them competing rather than complementing each other. It's better to have one loud and one more mellow - so they can both complement each other. I wouldn't mix together two very strong minded fragrances such as Angel, Yohji or Lolita Lempicka, for instance. But taking one of those and then adding something light and refreshing such as an eau de cologne or a mellow woodsy fragrance centred around sandalwood or vetiver, for example - might just work.

3. Order of Layering
Your layered fragrance is greatly influenced by the order in which you apply the scents to your skin. The one that goes on first would be less noticeable in the beginning of the wear; but would grow over time to reveal itself as the "base notes" of the fragrance. That is why I recommend you use  the heavier scent first and the lighter scent second. Otherwise, the more fleeting fragrance gets lost in the more dominant or "heavy" one. For example: I would apply Jo Malones Black Vetyver Cafe before Vintage Gardenia in that order - applying the other way around simply buries the gardenia in a grave of earthy vetiver.

4. Method of Application 
It is well known that how you apply the scent (spray, dab, roll-on, or creme/solid perfume) makes an impact on how the scent is perceived - closer to the skin or with greater aura (often called sillage). This of course has a lot to do with the concentration as well.
From my experience, spraying one layer of fragrance on top of another produces poor quality of layering and mingling of the scents. What you'll get instead is the two scents kind of sitting on top of each other without much interaction. The smell will kind of jump from one impression to the other, like a CD track stuck between two notes. After a while, you'll end up with just the first scent noticeable, which kind of defeats the whole purpose. There are several methods I suggest for mixing the fragrances together, depending on the method of application - please note that even though we are aiming for simultaneous application with most of these methods - you still should be applying the stronger or heavier scent first in all these methods.

Spray:
Here you want to employ a simultaneous application, as much as humanly possible. Get both bottles ready with their caps removed. Using your strong hand apply the 1st scent to the opposite wrists, following immediately by the 2nd fragrance. Gently rub the two wrists together so that the scents literally blend on top of your skin while they are still wet (before they get fully absorbed).

Roll on:
Get the caps removed from both bottles. Draw a two parallel lines with the fragrances, and mix together by gently rubbing your wrists. From there you can transfer to your neck, etc. In order to prevent scent contamination between your roll-on bottles, make sure you're not using the roll-on on skin that has scent on it already.

Solid perfume:
With solid perfumes the evaporation is not as critical as with alcohol based fragrances. That gives you a little bit more time between applications (but not enough time to answer emails or go and shower in between!). You could just smear them one on top of each other - and if you are using an applicator that is even give you the freedom to scoop a little bit of each and mix them on your skin the same way you'd blend makeup. This also allows you to apply the scents on many other parts of your skin that don't necessarily rub against each other like your wrists do. I would also recommend applying the two scents on two different wrists and then rubbing them together.

Dabbing (for Extrait or splash bottles):
What's tricky about this method is the high chance of contamination. So dabbing carefully on two separate wrists, or on two close to each other but scent-free areas on your wrists, and making sure the dabber goes back into the right bottles are key. Once you applied a bit of each scent, blend by rubbing your wrists together.

Mixed Methods:
When using mixed methods of applications, use the one that uses skin contact method first (i.e.: roll on, dabbing, creme parfum) and the spray second. Remember to choose your scents carefully - it is still advisable that the first scent is the stronger, heavier, more dominant, and using the ligher, mellower scent on top as to give it a chance to shine at all.

5. Quality and Consistency
Call me a snob, but just like how I don't like creating perfumes by mixing poor quality fragrance oils with top notch floral absolutes from fear of ruining them - I am a bit weary of mixing together fragrances of extreme gap in quality.
Sarah Jessica Parker may have been lucky when she mixed up her high-fashion fragrance Avignon with drugstore and street vendors' musks. It worked for her but it won't usually work well to mix poor quality fragrances with high quality ones - it is more likely going to ruin the good quality scent and bring it down rather than elevate the inferior fragrance. Although when that happens it must feel like pure magic. Without a proper training for your nose, you may have difficulty pinpointing the quality of different fragrances and raw materials separately from the brand image, price, etc. So this is a bit difficult to give you real guidelines for. While I am not promoting using only scents that were made by the same brand - there is something to be said about layering scents that were meant to be worn that way, as in the case of the Jo Malone brand - and even then, I found only a handful of the combinations to be worth while. And of course, these were discontinued (Black Vetiver Cafe layered with Vintage Gardenia with Cardamom and Myrrh). What I would suggest is that you start with layering all natural fragrances, which are more likely to bring out harmonies. Even that would be tricky... The more I think (and write) about it, the more I realize that this rule I've just made up is just screaming to be broken... So I would be more than a tad curious to hear from you what outrageous layering you've been up to. They can be of any brand whatsoever - but whomever wins this luck of the draw contest will receive three mini perfumes that I absolutely love layering: Film Noir, Lovender and Rosebud. I will talk more about combos from my own line in later posts, a series that is dedicated to layering.

To summarize, while as a perfumer, I strongly feel that perfumers should formulate their fragrances in such way that they provide a stimulating fragrance all around, a complete work of olfactory art that does not require any boost from the outside. That is how I design my perfumes, always, and that is how I think it should be done. The idea of creating something incomplete in advance, in order to sell more bottles seems like cheating to me (and I've discussed it before in my article "Layering Fragrance - with Style"). Though it does pose its own compositional challenges and those, I admit, can be fun. Also I do like the fact that it promotes the customer's own creativity and gives them room for playing and expressing themselves through fragrance.

Patchouli Remix

The following are a few "recipes" that demonstrate how to pair Film Noir, my patchouli and chocolate laden fragrance, with some of our endearing soliflores to create a scent that is unique to you. We encourage you to play further and explore the rest of our Soliflore Collection and create your own combinations. Please feel free to share them on social media with the hashtag #PatchouliRemix or #AMPlayering - and photos of you and the perfumes, course!

Lovender Layering

Lavender-Patchouli-Vanilla is not so much a note combo as much as it is a scent concept. Although I'm sure was not invented in Israel, it is the most "Israeli" of all modern fragrances. In reality, although the patchouli and lavender are noticeable and recognizable - it is more of a musky-sweet fragrance. It is popular both as a personal fragrance and as a scent for myriads of ancillary products here - soap bars, shampoos, body lotions etc. To me it often smells too strong, too artificial, and at times too fruity to my taste (perhaps some raspberry ketone is somewhere in the mix to support the vanillin and musk molecules).
So, here is a natural alternative for this iconic scent - a recipe for making your own layering:
Dab, spray or apply with a roll on some Film Noir (We always start with the deeper and stronger fragrance, to make the foundation of the scent). On top of that spritz some Lavender eau de cologne.
The richness of patchouli and vanilla notes in both makes a perfect base for the lighter, herbaceous lavender top and heart notes.

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Rose + Patchouli

Patchouli + Rose is one of the most sensual pairing, making the petals of rose ever deeper, and the patchouli sweeter and more alluring.
Apply a thin layer of Film Noir parfum extract or or eau de parfum with a roller bottle or a dabber. Spray a little Rosebud eau de parfum. Rub gently between wrists to create your own signature blend.
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Varthemia

Sharp Varthemia (Chiliadenus iphionoides), or in Hebrew Ktela Harifa (כתלה חריפה) likes to grow inside rocks and has the most incredibly resinous, rustic, complex aroma. It truly is like a complete perfume all of its own, exemplifying what Garriague and Chypre are all about.



I've stumbled upon this plant by chance, first near Keshet Cave in Park Adamit near the Lebanese border. A beautiful place with gorgeous view. It was one of two aromatic plants i was unable to identify, but intuitively knew they are both of medicinal and aesthetic value. I later found Varthemia on the mountain above my house. But it wasn't until I saw Yonat HaMidbar post about it and rave about its lovely perfume that I was able to identify the plant (it was never in bloom when I saw it, and it's near impossible to ID plants when they are not in bloom).



Shortly after I was not only inspired to finally make incense cones out of it, but also studied some of the medicinal properties of it. Among others, it is good for heart problems and diabetes - and seems like a very gentle herb to enjoy in tea (as long as it's not overly done). I picked some for a friend who just had a heart attack, and figured my own heart could benefit from it too. So I've been sipping a lot of vartehmia. marrubium and white mint tea. A lovely combination, and feels to be soothing both the heart and the soul.

My next adventure with vartehmia is infusing it in both alcohol and olive oil. From the olive oil I will make a single-note vartehmia soap (I will also have it brewed into tea for the water component of the soap making process, so that it is as naturally fragrant as possible). From the alcohol infusion, which turned out beautifully resinous and rich, I've created a rustic, garrigue-inspired amber perfume, which I am debating if you launch this fall or not. It's a further development of an old, old, old formula that was almost sickeningly sweet because the amber base in it wasn't my own and I am quite certain contained some artificial molecules. Frankly, that base smelled more like an ambreine accord. The perfume I made with it included a touch oregano that balanced this sweetness to some degree, but not enough. I want the new perfume to be more authentic and local, and use my own herbal infusions in it - but without taking away from the luxurious character of the perfume. It is very different from the original, and surprisingly has a bit of the Espionage DNA to it - even there is nothing smoky about it. Must be the ambreine accord (which, FYI, is the core of Shalimar, Emeraude and the like). 

Soapmaking

My idea of a perfect (summer) includes a lot of R & D (research and development) in the lab. Earlier this summer, before humidity got out of hand, I got my act together and created my first batch of soap, ever. It was the exact same formula that Open Source Soap used for creating all my fragrance 3-in-1 soap bars. I decided on an unscented soap for my first batch, because I really wanted to see and experience the soap in its pure form  - and also avoid painful loss of precious fragrant materials in case I screw up.

The process is a tad tedious and time consuming, requiring one to be precise with the temperatures and also extra cautious with the lye's caustic properties. It was a rather humid day when I made it, so I realized pretty fast that it is very uncomfortable to work with goggles and gloves when the air is so slippery and moist; and also there is that feeling that the air would cary the caustic fumes far too easily into my system. No harm was done, but I am now convinced that winter is the best time for this kind of production (or R & D, for that matter).

I've used stainless steel loaf pans as molds. I made a mistake of not putting any linings (I didn't want them to have wrinkles at the bottom). Turns out it was near impossible to get the soap out after the 24 hour hardening period. But I managed to do it anyway.

The result I'm very pleased with as far as the soap consistency, properties (lathering, moisturizing) albeit its messy look. I know that if it was possible to take it out of the mold easily they would have been beautiful, so for next time I'm going to use a different procedure for the pouring process and probably use a different mold - probably will reuse 1L milk cartons. The bars will have a different size than they did under Schuyler's hands (he used 2L juice cartons, and than cut them in the middle to create a long shaped rectangle). Mine will be more on the squarish side.

I ended up with a lot of soap shavings, from which I can make a liquid soap or just use for hand washing clothes etc.

Cleanup time!
(Which is super easy, by the way - especially with my designated sink and stainless steel surfaces - yay!).



I am now waiting at least for a dry weather to proceed with more experiments. In the meantime, I'm creating oil infusions of herbs that could be incorporated into the soap, from wild herbs that grow here - for example Varthemia and Sage. Having appropriate space makes all the difference - I have room for large- mouthed jars that can sit around for months if needed and still not take up much of my ongoing workspace. It is so refreshing to have a studio built especially for the purpose I need it for. I can't even begin to tell you how thrilled I am about that and all the possibilities of what I can do next.

Burning through the Desert

A few months ago (the last day of April, to be exact, which was also the first day of my Orientals week-long course), I had the pleasure and honour to host a special guest throughout the day: Dan Riegler of Apothecary's Garden - a purveyor of fair trade resins from around the world - especially frankincense and myrrh that are wild crafted in the traditional methods in countries such as Somalia, Yemen and Kenya. He also sources Cretan labdanum, and other rare raw materials, and sells resin-centrered products that he concocts himself, which you can find on his online shop. One of them being a highly fragrant moustache wax which basically surrounded him with a cloud of frankincense - so obviously he made an instant good impression on me!

We started the day at the Baha'i Gardens in Akko (which deserve a full post dedicated to them) and then went to my studio to make incense - and burn a bunch too. Little did I know what I was signing up for. On top of the usual things I burn for this class (palo santo chips, sandalwood incense sticks, one type of myrrh and frankincense resins and my own rendition of Egyptian Kyphi) - Dan had a trunk-load of resins that he just imported from Africa, and was immensely kind and generous to share with us the most incredible incense resins with me and my class. We spent the afternoon burning rare myrrh, olibanum, and also some gums I never knew existed, namely Sandarac and Ammoniacum, the latter of which totally blew my mind.

I learned so much from Dan, about the resins (and the other raw materials he curates and sells), how they are harvested and collected, the chemical makeup of the resins and how it affects the stages of burning (it turns out that incense resins also have top, heart and base notes) - and this post is just a little taste of all the beautiful resins we burnt when he was here. I'm looking forward to meeting him again on his next visits in Israel on the way to the African continent.


Frankincense usually comes in "tears" shape as this Boswellia carterii - but not always. Below is a specimen of the less known B. neglecta that look more like a chunk of resinous granules. B. carterii has the characteristic, most unmistakable scent of frankincense - beginning with sweet citrus notes of lemon drops and orange candy and continuing into more resinous, woody and even balsamic, caramel-like nuances as the incense burns on the charcoal.

While looking pretty much the same, other frankincense species provide further nuances and a whole frankincense burning comparative study (or incense games a-la Japenese Koh-Doh) can easily occupy half a day. Compare this to Maydi (Boswellia frereana) which albeit its slightly herbaceous (sage-like) opening, is more subtle, woody and perfumey. In fact, it smells almost powdery like violet and iris. Ethiopian frakincince (Boswellia papyrifea) is even finer with its suave, light perfume notes, slightly sweet and with notes of burnt sugar at the end of the charcoal burning process.



Boswellia neglecta is endemic to north Kenya and comes in white and black forms (as you can see in the photo) and is not widely known. The white and the black smell significantly different. The white begins resinous-green, piney and mysterious, surprisingly juice like crushed leaves with hints of parsley, galbanum and ammonia (smells a lot like amoniacum).  It has a hint of sweaty note, a little like coriander seed. The final burning moments bring to mind the smoke coming out of autumnal piles of fall leaves.

The black neglecta smells completely different - you wouldn't think it came from the same plant: it smells dark and looming, like moss, mushrooms, decaying fall leaves, peat, forest floor and hints of campfire. It's surprising and magical that a resin can possess so many different facets.


Sandarac (tetraclllyris) comes from Malta and just like its pure milky appearance, burns clean with a woody-balsamic-resinous scent that is fine and very pleasant. It's a little bit like elemi, a little like mastic but not quite. There is a tiny hint of seashore to it that I only detected after many times of burning. It is quite lovely, even if underwhelming at first impression.


Ammoniacum is intense and pungent, like a mixture of galbanum, asafoetida, sulphur, greens. It it a very interesting odour but I suspect it would have better effect in magic and exorcism ceremonies rather than contemplative incense rituals.



Commiphora confusa, as the name suggests, is a type of myrrh that is hard to identify, and for several reasons: the flowers look different on each plant, the resin looks different as well - and the most surprising of all: it smells more like frankincense than myrrh.



Commiphora myrrha (from Ethiopea) has the characteristic bitter, rubbery scent when burnt, and is what I'd imagine the Queen of Sheba to wear on her neck when seducing King Solomon.



Commiphora kataf (from Kenya) has pieces of wood in it (which would change the smell of the smoke depending on which chunk you burn). It has a strange, sulphuric-sweaty odour. I guess you could call it spicy, as it has a hint of cumin in it too. Overall it reminds me more of the smell of food than incense - barbecuing kebabs comes to mind.


Commiphora holtziana does not smell like myrrh at all to me. It's more woody than C. myrrha, and a tad fresh to start with. Dan describes it as briny and sea-like but I'm not getting it.


Arabian/Yemeni Myrrh is by far the most incredibly beautiful myrrh resin I've ever burnt. Although it came in a strange looking chunk, containing pieces of the plastic bags used by the collectors, and even a piece of wool yarn, it has the most fantastic scent, like a perfume on its own accord. It reminds me of the unique "version" of frankincense that B. papyrifea offers. I would love to have this as an essential oil and create a perfume with it.