Elul

"Bountiful harvest" Jaimi Lammers 

The Lunar/Solar Jewish year is coming to a close. This is Elul, the 12th month, which means "grain harvest" in the Akkadian language (an ancient language which is the origin of the Semite languages, which served as the lingua franca of the Ancient Near East). It may also relate to the word "search", which alludes to the the soul-searching that happens during this month. Jews say special prayers of repentance, and ask forgiveness of one another in preparation for the new year to come. We want to start with a blank slate, without any heaviness in our hearts of feelings of regret. All accounts must be cleared and in order so we can have a fresh start.

As always, I look to nature and the seasons to find inspiration and guidance. To better understand the internal process I am going through I see how it is reflected in the natural cycle of birth, death and re-birth. At the end of the Eastern Mediterranean summer, death is the stage of life where most plants are at. After a long dry spell, the ruling colour is yellow and only the hardiest of plants remain green. All the annuals, except for a few weeds that irritate the gardeners and farmers, have dried up and come to seed long ago. This is a time of deep sleep and hibernation, awaiting the blessed rains of autumn to awaken the seeds and bring them back to life.

There are some exceptions of course - and these also teach us about tools for coping with the challenges of the season, and its gifts: 

The fruit-bearing trees which come to their peak this time of year - figs, carobs, pomegranates and grapes. Their sweetness comes out of this fertile albeit arid land, showing us that Earth's fertility is not forgotten, that it is eternally generous and giving. That it is never futile, even if on the surface it may seem dead and deserted.

A few very special "Autumn-Announcers" bulb plants are at a different stage of their life-cycle, and show us an original way to live life: bringing forth their flowers, their very best, first and before any leaf is to be seen. These flowers or resurrection are the first to bloom and remind us that fall is about to come, that there is life after death. Out of a pile of dead, dried leaves from the winter, the Beach Lily (AKA Sea Daffodil) springs out with impressive, large, bridal-white flowers and a scent so regal that intensifies in the afternoon and the evening, attracting night-pilots such as moths to pollinate it. It literally looks like coming out of a pile of dry bones. The Sea Squill (Urginea maritima, Drimia maritima) AKA Sea onion, in Hebrew: חצב מצוי, Arabic: عيصلان - brings the tall, white columns of flowers that bloom in order from bottom to top. The succulent leaves won't be seen till mid-Winter. Autumn crocus will also arrive in early fall, showing flowers first and leaves only later on. They all teach us to bring out our very best first, with full faith and trust. They teach us many other things that deserve a post on and of themselves, which I promise to write next.


Sorting Clary Sage Seeds 

This is the time to separate the seed from the chaff, to sort and prepare for the winter time. To see what is in our stock after a summer of collecting seeds, of saving up potential for growth that is only waiting for the water from the rain to open it up. Seeds of ideas, plans, hopes, dreams and memories are all wrapped up in this compact little being of the seed stage. Some of the seed's potential and outmode is hidden, and some hints can be found in its previous stage of coming into seed and full maturity, the previous cycle. Be it your previous life stage, or previous generations, your people's history and your personal history as well. And just like those toy-capsules that expand in the bath to become fully blown dinosaurs - it is important to choose your seeds carefully before sewing. 

I would like to share a little prayer for the seeds I am hoping to find now while in the month of sorting, seeds I would like to sew before the blessed rains of nourishments and growth and action will arrive - blessings that I wish for myself and perhaps will also resonate with you:
- Being open to the knowledge, love and wisdom that comes to me in many shapes and forms. Sometimes it comes in strange ways and patterns, speaks strange languages and we need to read between the lines.
- Continue to share these gifts that come to me - of knowledge, wisdom, love and healing. This also takes many shapes and forms, from the basic care of my body and my family, plants, animals and nature around me, to what I share through making perfumes, writing this blog or in any other method of communication available.
- May this communication always be clear, honest and truthful, peaceful and conducive of positive change and growth.
- Mastery of the things I've taken upon myself, both personally, spiritually and professionally.
- Be devoted and dedicated to bringing more healing and peace to the world through whatever I do. First and foremost by inspiring deeper connection to oneself and to Nature.

In more specific terms, I would like to fill all my perfumery courses this year, master the art of incense (an ongoing challenge!), to finish writing and to publish my second book, and to continue to make an honest living by creating the beautiful perfumes and incense that I love, and share them with you, all over the world! I hope that my clients will continue to feel a strong connection to what comes from under my hands,  and find in it a portal or a passage to deeper and more meaningful connection to yourselves and to the beautiful world around you.

Autumn Leaves Nerikoh

Incense is occupying my mind a lot these days, as well as most of my creative endeavours. I'm working on different techniques, and also adaptations of some of my perfumes into incense form. The Japanese art of incense is poetic and technically versatile in a way that sparks my imagination.

Today I've tried my hand at crafting Nerikoh (kneaded incense) using dried fruit instead of honey. I notice apricot used in several of the Nerikoh offerings from Shoyeido, so I decided to give it a try. It seemed especially befitting for an adaptation of Autumn perfume that I wanted to make. It's akin to translating an idea from perfume into incense format.

Autumn was a perfect candidate, as Nerikoh is traditionally used in tea ceremonies in the fall season.  Additionally, it being a Chypre Fruity with spicy notes and labdanum gave it an extra advantage over most of my other perfumes. Labdanum is one of the classic notes in Japanese Neirkoh, and along with the sticky dried apricot fruit, that would have been a great way to bring both worlds together. Other traditional incense materials are sandalwood, cinnamon and cloves, which are also in the perfume. Of course it has some oakmoss too! An early burn over a tea light smells promising already. Sweet yet earthy, complex yet brings on a feeling of serenity of fallen leaves. I even went as far as molding some into maple leaf shapes. And now I regret not doing it with the rest. The experiment seems to have gone well, so there will be more shaped incense pellets to come.  I just have to be sure they don't get suck inside the mold or break once they dried, before meticulously shaping an entire batch. And then there is also the question of packaging...

The Autumn Leaves Nerikoh won't be ready till fall, as they need at least six months to cure or age - and this is a shortcut: traditionally they will be buried in the ground in a clay vessel for 3-4 years! That means they will be ready around Halloween. I can't wait to smell them then, when the temperatures here will finally become cooler again after a long summer.

Petrichor

"The core of the seen and unseen universe smiles, but remember smiles come best from those who weep. Lightning, then the rain-laughter". - Rumi

Just in time for the much-delayed school year in British Columbia - the rainy season is upon us. Most Vancouverites don't welcome this type of change in weather, but I do. In places plagued with drought, such as my other homeland, the first rain signifies not only the changing season, but also determines the well-being of crops, and predictions for precipitation in the year to come.

In Hebrew, there is a special word for the first rain - "Yoreh". It has a special smell, and an air of excitement about it as Jews welcome the new year and begin the fall harvest season. Many stories have been told about tzadikim (sages or saints) that have saved the country from drought with vigils, fasting and prayers for rain.

In my many years of providing customized fragrance creations and matching scents to personalities, I've received countless emails describing people's faourite scents. The smell of the first rain in all its many permutations is one that comes up most frequently: rain on hot pavement, thunderstorm, wet earth after rain, in other words - petrichor...

The word was coined in 1964 and comes from the Greek petros (stone) and ichos (the liquid that flows in the gods' veins). It's exact definition accodring to the online Wiktionary is "the distinctive scent which accompanies the first rain after a long warm dry spell".

The main reason for the appearance of petrichor is a molecule called Geosmin, a metabolite of bacteria that lives at the top layer of the soil. You might also detect a bit of it in raw, unpeeled beetroot. Combined with the unique flora of the place graced with rain, the scent will have nuances of various roots and dried plant matter. This is why the scent each person associates with petrichor is unique to their homeland.

When I first moved to Vancouver, nearly 16 years ago, the only thing I missed more than my family and friends was the scent of the first rain in autumn, falling on the thirsty dry earth. It’s a scent one can’t describe to someone who never experienced it. And the occurrence of dry earth in British Columbia is a rarity. The closest I was ever able to explain it is that it is wet, musty, dusty and fresh.

The scent of spikenard essential oil comes very close to this (although the whole sensation of the clean air and the wetness is lacking from the experience of sniffing an oil from a bottle, rather than the outdoors). In 2001 I tried to capture that scent, and the result smelled ironically of the Pacific rainforest after the rain instead. The rainforests rarely go dry, but have a constant mysterious wet fresh smell about them, a mingling of all the conifers, moss, lichen and dead leaves rotting on the ground. The forest earth itself in fact layers of compacted woodchips, conifer needles and rotten leaves, which might explain why it does not quite smell like petrichor... So I decided to name it Rainforest instead.

Aside from spikenard, other natural raw materials that might remotely resemble petrichor are attar mitti - a baked earth attar that is produced from fragments of clay pots, distilled into sandalwood oil; and patchouli, with its dry, earthy, musty aroma.

Perfumes that have a distinctive petrichor or geosmin-like notes are Forest Walk by Sonoma Scent Studio, Demeter's Dirt and Neil Morris' Dark Earth.

How would you describe the smell of the first rain? Do you have any favourite perfumes that have that note?

Autumn List

Autumn 2013, a photo by Ayala Moriel on Flickr.

Time for a Fall 2013 List! I'm always fascinated by the majestic abundance of this season. Rich colours, warm textures, mysterious transitions and intriguing transitions take place. Flaming leaves make room for dark, barren trees and the sun is gradually replaced by shadows and hidden growth process. My favourite scents for fall usually are smoky-leathery-tobacco or Chypre, and this season is no exception. However, I'm happy to discover some new beauties every year to expand on these themes. Life is never boring when there's perfume!

1) Mitsouko
I enjoy Mitsouko year-around, but it's not fall without it. I've mostly reaching for the Eau de Parfum, which has a light dusting of cumin. In the winter it's time to pull out the parfum extrait, which has more pronounced peach aldhyde, orange and vanilla notes; and spring and summer are times for the lighter, more citrusy and dry-woody.

2) Anima Dulcis
My new discovery this year at Barneys in San Francisco has turned chilly autumn mornings into a delightful experience. Anima Dulcis wraps around like a halo of sweet steamed milk, a cloud of spices and brown hues of caramel, dark chocolate and fallen leaves.

3) Forest Walk
Once you get beyond the musty, realistic wet earth and rotten leaves crunching beneath my feet - my brisk walking warms up my skin to reveal the woody-balsamic sweetness of black hemlock absolute, rockrose resin and moss. True to its name, Forest Walk conjures the imagery and tactile sensuality of a walk in the woods in fall; and like a vigorous stroll rejuvenates as it reconnects to earth and the seasons.

4) Magazine Street
Sophisticated, seductive and complex, Magazine Street is not exactly a seasonal perfume, as I can see myself wearing it year around. I just so happen to finally have gotten enough supply of it to lavishly enjoy it as I please. Rooty vetiver and botanical musks make it truly sing on the skin, alongside its Southern beauties of blooming magnolias. It blends so beautifully with the skin, creating a unique aura around you.

5) Cocoa Sandalwood
Surprising combination of powdery, warm sandalwood with a dust of cocoa and - the surprise - intriguingly violet-y osmanthus. Cocoa Sandalwood is a quiet, soft-spoken creaminess that is very comforting.

6) Egoiste
On my last stopover at Schipol airport, I picked up a gigantic bottle of this unavailable-in-North-America masculine gem. It is the younger sibling of Bois des Iles. Creamy sandalwood brightened by light rosewood and citrus, and hint of aldehydes. It's not as spicy and creamy as its sister, but is just as classy and lovable. Equally great for black-tie events or an evening cuddled in your favourite woolen wrap reading a book by the fireplace. 

7) Lampblack
Fall being a time of transition and contemplation, writing (or drawing) in one's journal is one of the best ways reflecting on the inner life. Black India ink serves this purpose most dutifully and truthfully. And that is the core of Lampblack - a mineral, inky concoction of smoky cyperus (nagramotha) and earthy vetiver, sulphuric grapefruit and flamboyant pepper.

8) My Vanilla
Mysterious and grown-up, this beautiful and original creation is about vanilla's seductive power and exotic nature. Paired with dry cedar, warm spices and smoky-sugary notes. In contrast, there is also strange and unusually green-resinous mastic note and heady champaca and orange blossom to create a remarkable oriental veil.

9) Volutes
Wood varnish, burnished pipe, tobacco, dates, vanilla, musk, honey and incense... Volutes is multi-layered and complex yet addictively easy to wear. It's wonderful to finally have a "darker" Diptyque scent enter the world.

10) Feuilles de Tabac
One of the most intriguing perfumes from the tobacco genre, and definitely my favourite from Miller Harris - though I've been giving it far less attention than it deserves on this blog. Wearing it instantly boosts my confidence, but not in a tacky "I'm now assertive" kinda way (aka what you'd imagine a public speaker to put on before doing a TED talk). It just creates a sense of strength and courage. It's melange of tobacco, cascarilla bark and pimento berry creates is out-of-the-ordinary, although immediately conjures a very masculine presence. I love that bold opening, and even more so what it morphs into, when the softer nuances of tobacco emerge, wrapped in patchouli and garnished with tonka.

What are your fall favourites this year?

Chypre Time of Reflection

Fall is gracefully entering the skies... Bright and blue, they are now crisp in the morning and by high noon are warmed by gentle slightly angled sun rays. The breezes are creating ripples and larger waves even in the quiet Straight of Georgia and the more sheltered False Creek.
The days are getting shorter and suddenly the notion of dressing up and having friends over for a cup of tea (not iced!) does not seem awkward anymore.

This time of the year I am drawn to Chypres time and time again - especially the Chypre Fruity, such as Mitsouko, Femme, and also other classics like Sous le Vent (which I was wearing two days straight now). I'm feeling sad that there has been much less interest in this fragrance family. I wish the rants about discontinued members of this family were backed up by purchasing habits to support its continuous existence. I'm definitely not seeing very much sold of some of my perfumes that I'm most proud of. And I'm sorry to say, unless this changes drastically in this season, I will have to say goodby to these perfumes and cease from producing them.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I believe customers need to know when a product they love (or say they love) is getting pulled off the market. It's always been my mandate to never truly discontinue a fragrance (I can always make things on-order, unless an ingredient is nowhere to be found).
Also, customers need to know that complaining about what companies do and don't do for them is sometimes beyond the point. Those who are loyal and actually do purchase the product - I feel for you (and you know that just like you I will be scouring eBay for beloved long-gone or reformulated perfumes). But just complaining about a company's actions is not always fair. I'm all for criticizing the big boys' preference for the bottom line (aka profit), and it often seems that they would go as far as completely bastardizing their formulae to achieve that goal.

In my case (as I sure is also the case with many other niche brands that are struggling to remain visible in the vast ocean of 1000 new releases per year with budget far larger than theirs): not only am I not really profiting from this, I'm actually losing money for keeping these perfumes in rotation: It is seriously getting to the point when even keeping all the specialty ingredients that are required to keep this on hand is simply not realistic in the current economic climate when people are taking second jobs (if they manage to keep their first one) and companies are cutting costs everywhere possible. I don't want cost-cutting to affect the quality of my products, EVER. But I cannot go on subsidizing people's olfactory curiousity at the expense of my (non-existent) pension plan and my daugther's (non-existent) college funds.

Sample sales are just not enough to justify keeping a perfume on the shelf. I don't even make profit off selling samples: they just barely pay for the cost of producing and shipping them. It's harsh, but that's life - there isn't an unlimited space in my tiny studio, and rent ain't cheap! Each fragrance takes up space and needs to be kept in stock to be offered on the website or anywhere really. And if there isn't enough interest (backed-up by actually putting money towards where the declarations of love are directed), then I need to act very business like and discontinue them.

The perfumes in question are Autumn, Megumi and Schizm. Three perfumes I've always been very proud of. However, I can't even remember when someone bought a full bottle of any of these (and I usually remember those kinds of details - including who purchased it within this year) - and these used to be constantly sought out by Chypre loving perfumistas and my regular customers... I know there is nothing "wrong" with these perfumes per se - although of course I can always make them more "intense" and more "dramatic" and more "noir" and flanker them to death and relaunch it (if I had a million dollar budget), but I thought long and hard and I think I will just have to let them go - unless I'm seeing some orders coming for full bottles of these beauties by the end of 2012. Which means that you will only have the options of the fresher, greener Chypres - Ayalitta (thankfully among my best-sellers), ArbitRary (dito) and Rainforest.

Fall Harvest Tea Party Photos by Shawn Nygren Photography

Gifted portrait photographer Shawn Nygren has kindly documented the Fall Harvest Tea Party. Here are her photographs, to give you all a sense of the atmosphere and what was happening during the preparation, the party and the tea tasting.

Setting out the tea tray, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Tea tray, before the guests arrived!, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Brie + Pear Tea Sandwiches, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Seedcake Madeleienes, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Oolong Truffles, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Fragrant Fall Harvest Desserts (clockwise): Apricot + Marzipan Petitfours, Coronation Grapes, Saffron-Osmathus White Chocolate Truffles, Espionage Truffles, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Tea Tasting & Flower Arrangements, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Tea tasting set up, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Pedro's tea demo - brewing Suk (wild artemisia), originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Pouring strained tea, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Tea tasting (Rachel & Lauren), originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Ramneet smelling brewed Sejak (Korean green tea) leaves, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Tea tasting - Pedro, Naomi, Kath & Cassandra, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Mary & her daughter, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Jami & Ann, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Rachel & Lauren, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Kath & Naomi, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Ramneet & Heather , originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Melinda & Ayala, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Yaniv + Yaniv = boys love tea too!, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Agrumes Automnal

Tincturing Meyer Lemons, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Citrus is not widely associated with autumn. Except for the Etrog fruit, being a symbolic fruit during Sukkot, a Jewish fall harvest holiday. For me personally, growing in the land of citrus groves, autumn is the season of the return of citrus: the first tangerines, usually unripe, or at least green from the outside even if already juicy and sweet on the interior, are packed for the 10 o'clock snack during recess when the school begins, and the fine mist of the essential oil exploding out of the peel fills the classrooms for a refreshing aroma. It blends quite well with the cedar pencil shaving and new books' smell, come to think of it...

And of course, Etrog has a really special scent, and at times, the fruit will be brought to school for students to study and explore in the early fall. The citrus scents somehow become part of the smells of excitement: new beginnings, transition, new schools, new friends, new teachers, new backpacks (which quickly become contaminated with the stale odour of citrus fruit that was forgotten in the back for the entire week). And for me personally - another scent-memory was added to fall: the birth of my daughter (she will turn 14 years old this October!). When creating her namesake Tamya perfume, which commemorated a magic moment after her arrival back home from the hospital. It was just before sunset in the fall, and everything had that golden glow of a soft autumn sun, shining through olive groves, new wild wheat-grass after the first rain. I used yuzu, a rare Japanese citron essential oil, to give the perfume its uber-citrusy and fruity pizazz, reminiscent of the first autumn fruit that I'm so fond of.

I've been tincturing special citrus this week: Etrog, which received its own post last year; and Meyer lemons, which you can see in the above photo, and I'm tincturing for a whole other project: my New Orleans perfume (more about that later, once I complete my 4th mod).

Meyer lemons are strange fruit, as their name and shape is deceiving: their outer peel is the most fragrant and is reminiscent of yellow mandarins or the first tangerines that I've mentioned earlier. It is really quite heavenly experience to zest or peel this deep yellow fruit!

The pulp, however, takes a disappointing turn. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to use my Meyer lemons after I've peeled them off... They are too sweet for a salad dressing (though can be used in a pinch...) and a little too bland to be eaten as they are. I'm wondering if their personality might shine the most in a marmalade. but having lost the zest, I probably can't use them for that at this point... I'm sure they are full of vitamin C though, so I promise they won't got to waste. However, if you have a good Meyer lemon recipe or idea, I'd be thrilled to hear.

In the meantime, I'm grateful to have a scent that vaguely reminds me of the early tangerines in our family orchard. And I'm really looking forward to finalizing my New Orleans perfume using this precious tincture, which will be ready in exactly 3 days. So stay tuned...

Burning Leaves & Salty Waters

DSC04027.JPG, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

October's arrival hasn't diminished my desire to immerse my body in the cold Pacific ocean. On the contrary. Swimming in those salty glacier waters seems to be my connection to both the inner and outer world. The chill of the water is felt in every inch of my skin, each one of them sending a screeching signal to my brain that I’m alive and breathing. I admit, that under 15 degrees Celsius it becomes very painful, but not any less worth it. And the sensation of coming out of the ocean, after struggling for some 10-15 minutes to maintain a healthy body temperature, is like a lesson in the laws of relativity – the air always feels so much warmer… But still not warm enough to not warrant a very hot bath as soon as possible.

October 1^st was so warm and dry (relatively speaking, of course) I nearly got a sunstroke… And of course, I had to go to the beach. I went swimming as usual, pretending I’m on the white sandy beaches of Tel Aviv, and that nothing could be more natural than going for a swim. It felt quite normal. Sunsent Beach café was open as usual, serving their usual array of British Columbian beach food. Some people on beach blankets and lawn chairs chatting and reading a magazine. Even the water was pretty normal summer temperature (16 Celsius, that is…). So in I go and breathe in the coldish air floating just above the water, smelling of salt, seaweed, fish, perhaps a little boat engine oil too. I’m almost convinced this Indian Summer is a real summer when it hits me: a smoldering, thick and sweet smoke of burning leaves. A little like Choya Loban, come to think of it. I’m swimming and marveling at this strange scent combination: ocean and burning leaves. Cold air and warm smoke. Wow.

Fall Escapism: Champaca, Kyphi, Hiking and Chai

Burning Kyphi Incense and Vetiver Rootlets, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

I'm burning Kyphi incense tonight, and it seems particularly befitting for the season. I've been "getting back to my roots" so to speak this week as I was teaching my intensive, week-long perfumery course focusing on the Oriental fragrance family. Kyphi is the most ancient perfume in the form of incense pellets - it combines about 16 different resins, spices and herbs, which are bound together with honey, raisins and wine. I made this incense three years ago (in September, actually...). It was burnt in ancient Egyptian temple in the evening, to "banish the worries of the day". And it does just that!

Now that my busiest season has began, I'm already finding it essential to keep my life balanced. Fall's transitions into the school year are exciting but also taxing. And with the market season beginning, I must take good care for not falling into stress-mode because this is going to last nearly 4 months and I am hardly going to have a single weekend off in the coming weeks!

I began making perfumes 9 years ago, when I was a full-time student in an intensive program, and also a very new single-mother. Stress was inevitable, and just as inevitable was me waking up at 5am every morning so that I can get a few moments to myself to burn incense and meditate. It seems like things are coming full circle now and I will be needing to go a similar route: wake up early and make sure my day does not begin with answering emails, or even making breakfast... But with thanking for and paying attention to my breathing. And what better way than burning incense to become aware of one's breath and deepen it?

My pack, resting on a rock outside Sunil's chai shop, originally uploaded by Lucylicious.

Hiking or simple long walks in the neighborhood (the West End is surrounded by water in 3 directions, as well as a nearly-natural rainforest of Stanley Park). Morning visits to Coal Harbour always make my day seem promising and exciting, and the water always pops new ideas into my head! And in the evening, a long stroll along the seawall all the way to Lost Lagoon, Beaver Lake or the Rose Garden are a good finale to a day - usually with a companion that can share the beauty of the scenery and reflect on the day that just gone by.

And than, of course, there is tea to warm my hands on that early morning stroll, or lift up my spirits just before the workday is over. Chai tea is special in that it has to be actually cooked in a pot with all the spices and milk - something I hardly ever do on a week day, but reserve for weekends and guests... Or when I decide to go to the Indian restaurant to get lunch instead of cook it myself... Fortunately, there is a really good one right next door and it feels like home there (sort of, except for the giant Bollywood marathon on their big-screen TV).


Champaca Chai, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

And last but not least - here's a one-of-a-kind perfume that is especially appropriate for today: Champaca Chai. The fantasy of this perfume encompasses both the hiking, chai and smoky components that seem to save my mundane life from total disaster... It speaks to my fantasy of an outdoorsy tea ritual, preferably after a long hike on the mountains, and has a soothing milkiness to go with its rustic smoky surroundings. I also find the essence of champaca flower, with its complexity and fruitiness, to be reminiscent of Kyphi.

Top notes:
Ginger, Nutmeg, Mace, Cardamom, Fennel, Caraway

Heart notes:
Champaca, Jasmine, Coconut, Honey

Base notes:
Black Tea, Budhawood, Clove bud, Tonka bean

Autumn Wardrobe

I woke up this morning to a rainy fall day, which is likely to be followed by weeks of typical gray gloom, forcing me and most Vancouverites to stay indoors more than we'd like to. and while I do enjoy concentrating on my work now that summer's s0-called "distractions" are gone - it can be a little unmotivating to be constantly homebound and listen to the raindrops constantly hit my skylight.

Now is when I bring out my fall wardrobe of scents - richer, warmer and more dense and sensual scents that reflect the mood of the season, and bring to mind the rich colours of the dying autumn leaves - burnt orange, russet red, mustard yellow and golden ochre.

Chypres and Orientals are the staples for the season, and it's nice to have a couple of scents that will make you feel as if you're wrapped up in cozy warm sweater. But you might want something brighter and more cheerful for daytime wear or for days when you're in the mood for something different.

The ultimate scent for fall is of course Autumn, and not just because of the name. It is a fruity chypre - mossy with hints of spice. It reminds me of plum and apple picking season, with some scents of overripe fruit that hit the ground and stayed there. So it's always very appropriate for the season.

Schizm is an unusual chypre, featuring precious white flowers (tuberose, jasmine and orange blossom) the strange, animalic note of cepes, which are porcini mushrooms and a very carnal note that begins both gamey and mushroomy and evolves into a nutty pecan note. It plays on the duality between a harsh woody dryness and animalic-sultry sweetness. A little fickle like the weather we experience in transitional season...

These suggestions are more on the dark side; but you can also brighten your autumn day with a bit of crisper green scents that have some depth, such as in Rainforest.

If you need help building your own customized fragrance wardrobe for fall, don't hesitate to email or call the studio. Wardrobe can be as small as 3 scents (in all sizes - 9ml extraits, 5ml or 10ml roll-ons) and up to 8 scents for the mini-coffret.

Cognac and the "Mesique"

Olives, originally uploaded by chany14.

The name of the latest perfume from Aftelier, Cognac, might be deceiving. This is more of an olive scent than a cognac scent. Cognac is one of the most original fragrances Mandy Aftel, who is infamous for her use of hard to find, cutting edge natural essence. Cognac uses green olive fruit absolute along with a base of the fruity green cognac absolute (from residues of grapes in the wine-making process) and refreshing citrus top notes, to create a perfume that evokes the exquisite simplicity of life along the Mediterranean.

When wearing Cognac, I am instantly reminded of the "Mesique" (AKA olive fruit harvest), the breezy autumn days, chilly in the mornings but warmer around noon, when me and my little brothers would not go to school in order to help our parents harvest the olives before the first rains spoils them. After hours of olive picking, our fingers will diffusive of green fragrant fresh olive juice. When it was time for the ten o'clock break, we'd peel the first tangerines of the season, still mostly green on the outside but already sweet in the inside... But our olive-juice-anointed fingers will turn them as bitter as bittrex!

Olive harvest, Iraq Burin, Palestine, originally uploaded by Steph Plourde-Simard.

The texture of this fragrance, by the way, is quite oily - even though it is in an alcohol base. This must be again because of the olive fruit absolute.

Top notes: Blood orange, Fresh ginger
Heart notes: Oleander, Olive Fruit
Base notes: Cognac

P.s. On another note, I have to share another olive memory. My classmate Carmel, a constant seeker of strange sensory experiences, and with the talent of dragging anyone else into her obsession-du-jour, loved to smear herself with the black, ripe olives, and lead us to do the same. We would rub the soft black fruit all over our legs and they will become strangely moisturized and dry at the same time. And of course, we would return home covered in black juice with a bitter taste on our fingers that would last for the rest of the day. Thinking about now, it's surprising she has become a lawyer and not a cosmetic inventor. I can't imagine her being able to satisfy those sensory cravings in the courtroom!

Inbetweening* with Perfumes

Banksy: A guerilla in our midst, originally uploaded by !HabitForming.

Of course, all of this wouldn’t matter a dime if it wasn’t connected to perfume, somehow. For those two or three weeks dangling between summer and autumn, I like to surround myself with rather bizarre scents that don’t seem to make too much sense on the outside, but for me they mean just that – the anticipation of darkness in the presence of light.

Dusky, incensy white florals – there is something indulgent and cheerful about white florals. The ones that are underlined by incense, maybe even a hint of patchouli and spice – are the most intriguing and mysterious; and while very pretty – they radiate an aura of Femme Fatale that is ready to surprise any minute. My favourites of these are Noix de Tubereuse and White Potion – and most recently I also added to these Songes with its sweet, somewhat naïve charm; and Chinatown, with its sophisticated and modern mélange of gardenia, five spice, sandalwood incense and a coarse-voiced murmur of patchouli. Tuberose is particularly autumnal in my opinion, and I also suggest you try other beauties such as Carnal Flower from Frederic Malle. Orange blossom can also be an intriguing autumnal note when paired with dangerous notes such as civet and narcissus – as in Narcisse Noir by Caron. I also recommend Pure Poison by Dior for a modernized take on the marriage between white florals (namely orange blossom, gardenia and tuberose), along with incense and amber. But if you are amongst the fortunate to have access to a Caron boutique, I can’t think of a better scent for the season than Farnesiana. A perfection of cassie flowers and a bittersweet dark Caron base accentuated by tonka bean.

Coumarin compositions – the bittersweet effect of these hay-like compositions make them feel dangerous and delightful at once. My favourites are Yohji, with it’s green galbanum opening and a hint of marine, which dries down to a powdery delight of amber and vanilla; and Yerbamate – another deceptive scents that opens with a dry, herbal and extremely bitter wormwood (absinthe) and sense of soapiness and cleanliness that is very masculine, with notes of mate, lavender and dry hay, but than turns sweeter into a tonka and coumarin concoction. You may also want to try Fou d’Absinthe and Yatagan, from a similar category.

What about the leathers? And the Chypres? I will wait till the leaves change their colours to do so. By than, the scent of Chypre will dominate the forests, as the leaves will dry, fall and start to disintegrate and meld with the wet earth.

* Inbetweening is a term from animation, which is the poses used inbetween key poses, in order to smoothen up the movement and make it more (or less!) realistic.

Inbetween

When summer is not quite over, but fall hasn’t quite began, a few special notes linger in the air in preparation of the cold seasons and as a farewell for the joyous days of yellow sun and azure skies…

The scent of back to school – new books and fresh paper, clean slates, snow-white rubber erasers and neatly sharpened cedar pencils.

The delicate scent of beach lilies, pure white, emerging from the dunes…

The powerful view of Chatzav poles – those white statues of tiny white blossoms. The bulbs of the plant contain many microscopic needles, that sting the skin when touched. Therefore, the bulbs were used to mark the borders between territories.

In contrast to all this whiteness, the blood-red tart juice of sour pomegranates, spouring their hearts and staining those white holiday clothes.

The skies are still bright. There is no rain. But there is a chill in the evenings. And you know it’s only a matter of days before the trees will paint their leaves gold and crimson – only to shed them and leave them to rot on the ground.

Photo credit: Yotam Dehan © 2006