Nose-to-Nose

I don't usually mix alcohol and work (well, that's a lie! I alway mix alcohol in my work, I just don't drink it!). And last night was no exception, even though I had a the pleasure and the honour to entertain a very special guest at the studio: my dear colleague Yuval (Joov) Har-Gil, the master distiller of Julius Craft Distillery. We met several times at his distillery in Hanita, and every time I go there I end up high on just a few drops of his pure and delightful distillates from local fruit, honey and grape pomace. These he also infuses with wild botanicals that are indigenous to the region, and some other which are cultivated in the region, such as his many unusual fruit Eaux de Vie - alongside the more traditional spirits from apple, peach and apricot you'll find others that will blow your mind away, such as yuzu, carrots, cactus pear and even wild berries that few even know they are edible.

Although he is not formally a "Nose", every time we meet it is like meeting a colleague from the exact same field. And a master at that. Which is, needless to say - pure and sheer delight. Perhaps it is even more enriching because his knowledge complements mine. All the things I do not know - he does: Distillation process, history of alcohol and a lot of additional knowledge about the local plants and distilling the very fleeting esters of fruits into his Eaux de Vie. I have taken my students there for a class on distillation of citrus alcohol and even those who've visited countless distilleries as part of their profession, were blown away by his talent and craftsmanship.


That night I think was the first time we met and actually had tea. Yerbamate, because I already know of his love for strong flavours such as tobacco. And as far as tea goes that's the next best thing.

We go through all the extracts I've ever made, which includes anything from wild plants from the Canadian rainforest, to Asian teas and spices (milky oolong and pandan leaf, anyone?), ambrette seed (a shared passion of ours), to the local treasures - oh so familiar and beloved: white mint, wormwood, varthemia, vitex... We both swoon.

We are meeting because we're scheming an event together for the Western Galilee Winter Festival: A regional celebration of our very own local culture, art cuisine, agriculture - it all comes together in a long weekend (Thursday through Saturday, sometime between Christmas and Chanukah - this year it will take place December 19-21, 2019). Our event will take place Thursday, December 19th, at Jullius Craft Distillery in Hanita.

We will return to the defining moment in history when the world of alchemy, magic and herbalism split into two different worlds and industries – the distillation of alcohol for the production of potable alcohol-based beverages; and the distillation of essential oils for concocting   perfumes and toiletries.

The evening will be dedicated to discussing and showcasing our unique craftsmanship and demonstrate the connections and similarities between the craft of Eau de Cologne (light, citrus-and-herb based perfumes) and the craft of Eau de Vie (alcoholic beverage). We will also discover unusual aromatic plants, and delve into the process of perfumes and alcoholic beverages. One-of-a-kind and unique bitters and "Aqua Mirabillis" will be made for the event – and those you will of course take home with you.

And for that of course I had to get into the lab and concoct something special... So this morning, I've been working on creating an Eau de Cologne type of fragrance that is largely inspired by Jullius' fine and subtle Akko Gin. It deserves a post on its own because truly, how it is designed and crafted is no different than making perfume!

I will only say here that it is akin to shaking a branch of Cedar of Lebanon tree after it rained on Mount Meron, and savouring the aroma of mountain air, fresh rain, leaves and forest. It's dewy and spectacular. To turn this into a perfume and use only local and natural botanicals will be a great accomplishment and I can't say I have managed to do this today... I have used a very similar structure of my Aqua Pistachia, with added juniper berries to give it the characteristic gin fragrance, as well as angelica root and tinctures of a few local wild herbs. And I have also created another concoction, which is unique to what we'll taste that night: we have decided to use mostly local herbs, and focus on six: Mastic, vitex, micromeria fruticosa (white mint), tobacco and the last ingredient the idea was that I will be using varthemia and Joov will be using arbutus berries (called Medronho in Spanish), that he picked from Hanita forest, fermented and distilled into a spirit. They have a unique aroma which Joov noticed is similar to varthemia's unusual perfume!

I agonized over the Aqua Akko for a while, and then feel brave enough to tackle our brief: Make a perfume version of Joov's bitters, which I adore. They are delicately minty from Micromeria fruticosa, earthy from the local "Three-lobed" sage AKA Greek Sage (Salvia fruticosa) and slightly resinous-skunky from Elecampagne (Inula viscosa). I feel worried that it won't be a crowd pleaser (not even knowing what the "crowd" for our event will even be. Which is why I started with concocting the gin-like cologne to begin with. Some things just require time and patience. And right now I seem to have neither!

Anatomy of a Flower

Narcissus is an elusive flower that has been possessing this perfumer's imagination for as long as could be. Vivid memories of the fresh wild flower begin with a folk song about picking narcissi in the fields, and encountering a white horse. The rhyme does not end too well.  

לַשָּׂדֶה יָצֹא יָצָאתִי
נַרְקִיסִים קָטַפְתִּי,
סוּס לָבָן רָאֹה רָאִיתִי
וְעָלָיו רָכַבְתִּי.

וְהַסּוֹס דָּהַר דָּהַר
וַאֲנִי נָפַלְתִּי,
וְאֶת כָּל הַנַּרְקִיסִים
בַּשָּׂדֶה הִשְׁאַרְתִּי.

Living wild narcissus flowers have an unusual scent, heady and intoxicating, both freshly green and white-floral in character. Native to the Mediterranean basin, these bulb flowers for Narcissus tazetta come to bloom in the late fall and wintertime, in different months depending on when the rainy season begins, and also depending on the particular habitat. It is grown commercially for perfumery, primarily in Southern France, where the method of enfleurage was discovered first to extract its precious aroma. Nowadays it is processed by solvent extraction, to produce an absolute. This particular type of narcissus is also referred to as "Narcisse des Montagne" (Narcissus of the Mountain), which grows in the Esterel area (vs. Narcisse des Plaines" which grows in Grasse area, and is sweeter, more honeyed but also quite faint fragrance). Narcissus poeticus, also known as Poet's Daffodil is another sub-species that is grown for the fragrance industry, both in the Netherlands and Southern France. Jonquil (Narcissus jonquilla) is native to the Western Mediterranean countries, and is also grown for extraction purposes, but in even lesser quantities, as it is rarely used - case in point is Vol de Nuit.

Paperwhite (Narcissus papyraceus) are a cultivar of this wild narcissus species as well, forced to flower around Christmas time, for their symbolic purity of Virgin Mary. In the Language of Flowers, narcissus symbolizes unrequited love and selfishness. 

Wild narcissus (Narcissus tazetta) smells both green and fresh, and also heady and almost sickeningly sweet. The scent invites from afar, with this heady melange that permeates the air around its modest surrounding among thorny bushes and garrigue shrubs. It invites you from afar, but if you get very close to smell it - you'll be hit by its lethally rotten aroma of excrement and dying flesh. This is due to the presence of two molecules - indole (not surprisingly, also present in jasmine and civet); and paracresol, which is reminiscent of leather (and is responsible for sickeningly sweet, intensely fecal notes that permeate Youth Dew).

Narcissus has a very complex, unusual and sophisticated odour. According to Bo Jensen, while many odorants have been identified as common to narcissi (benzyl acetate, methyl benzoate, p-cresol, phenethyl alcohol and indole), none are unique to this flower. Van Dort et al. attempted to identify the characteristic compounds of narcissus, but while they found additional molecules (8-oxolinalool, 3,7-dimethyl-1,3,5-octatriene-7-ol, methyl 2-methyl-6-methylene-2,7-octadienoate, 8-hydroxylinalool, 2-methoxy-2,6-dimethyl-3,5,7-octatriene and lilac aldehyde), neither could be held responsible for the flower's personality.

Poucher delves deeper into the world of narcissus compounding, and offers an extensive list of no less than 73 raw materials to recreate the living flower's impressive aroma, including (in addition to narcissus and jonquille absolutes), natural essences such as bergamot, orris, rose otto, styrax, orange flower water absolute, ylang ylang, ambrette, and many other floral absolutes (orange flower, jasmine, rose, tuberose), sandalwood, labdanum, civet, costus and benzoin. Key synthetic materials revolve around various paracresyls (p-acetate, p-iso-butyrate, p-phenylacetate), floral molecules (methyl anthranilate, phenylethyl acetate and benzyl acetate), coumarin, vanillin, heliotropin, musk ketone, and the peach aldehyde undecalactone, among others.

I've been meddling with a beautiful narcissus absolute that my friend Jessica September Buchanan has sent me from France and to me, it is dense, rich, not nearly as heady as the fresh flower, but rather leaning onto the green side. It is reminiscent of hay fields, honey, waxy tuberose, and is both woody, sweet, green and powdery. In my search for the perfect narcissus companions that will accentuate its eccentric and subtle beauty, I have selected angelica, ylang ylang, clary sage absolute, liatrix, pinewood, pine moss, pine needle absolute, palmarosa, cabreuva, szechuan pepper, balsam poplar buds and fire tree. It's been a great challenge to work with this absolute, and neither of these complementary essences is particularly easy either, but it's been a rewarding journey which I will share with you over the next few days, leading up to launching the new creations that resulted from this process.

I'm on TV! Telus Optik Local myVancouver

What do I have in common with a tattoo parlor, a bloodhound hunter and a volunteer piano teacher? We all appeared in episode 429 of TELUS Optik's myVancouver.
Watch it on Vimeo and YouTube, where you can get a glimpse into how I compose, blend and sniff perfumes at my home studio.

Hiding from the Muse

Catching Fire, a photo by AmyJanelle on Flickr.

יום אחד זה יקרה"
בלי שנרגיש, משהו ישתנה
משהו יגע בנו, משהו ירגע בנו
ולא יהיה ממה לחשוש.
(...)
וזה יבוא, אתה תראה
הידיים הקפוצות יתארכו
והלב השומר לא להיפגע יפעם בקצב רגיל
זה יבוא, כמו שהטבע רגיל
 ."להיות שלם עם עצמו

(Rita)

 

When does self-expression cross the lines and becomes kitsch? When does pathos stops moving us and becomes overbearing?

An artist is always on the tightrope, finding that balance between the too-much and the too-little. A hint, a glimpse, a beginning of a smile and the words that weren't said are often more important than what shows on the screen.

And sometimes a few minutes of genuine performance, truthful art can inspire you for weeks and give that "natural high"; a strong feeling of inspiration, leading to motivation, leading to the urge to express - create - do.

The relationship between an artist and his "muse" is complicated only if he is too caught up in a narcissistic chase for his own reflection in the lake. True inspiration comes from life, not from being chased (sorry, Jack London, I don't agree with you!).

The muse - or inspiration - is not a lover that needs to be chased or courted. It is the holy spirit that is always there, if we only let it come to us. It's not the muse who is avoiding contact - but the opposite: we are hiding from it; or worse - escaping it.

But that requires patience. Not waiting for the muse; but waiting for oneself to complete the cycle. Wait for the "dry spell" to pass. Because, in truth, there was never a dry season. There was only the time for the rain to collect and condense in the clouds. And when the clouds are filled to the brim, they will pour.

Just like Jonah hiding in the whale's belly, an artist might just need to hide for a while in the mundane, often times plagued by fears of impotence. Rather than fighting it, doing the hard work and fulfilling life's demands in the only cure for losing inspiration. In fact, it is the inspiration.

Woodsy Imbalance

Woodsy Disharmony, a photo by Ayala Moriel on Flickr.

If you lasted as a reader till the end of this week - then I hope you have felt a bit of the difficulties and demands of the creative process. Not limited to perfume creation is the pre-existing feeling of restlessness, discontent and even a sense of misery.

Something might be missing. Or disturbing my peace. Shaking my existence to the core. Or otherwise - fills my heart with so much joy that it is not possible to contain and has to spill elsewhere, be shared in a more appropriate way then hugging every stranger on the street or jumping up and down at the tip of a hat.

It's the initial sense of imbalance, disharmony, that initiates or triggers the creative process. It's not coincidental that artists are ever so often walking a fine line between madness and sanity. Over-sensitivity or attention to beauty can be quite distracting, or even destructive. And the inability of one's heart to stay numb or blind to suffering and injustice can be maddening.

I was asked several times to comment on the role of perfumery as an art. And I usually decline committing to such definitions. For several reasons but primarily because of a certain ambivalent gut feeling I have with over-exalting my profession and work.

Perfumery as an art is not nearly as accessible as other art forms, because of expense, distribution, life shelf and other technicalities. It is consumed like a commodity, and while it taps deeply into one's psyche - it's the one art form that, in my humble opinion, only becomes art once it is treated as such by the "audience" - the person wearing it or experiencing it.  Unlike a melody or a painting, a story or a poem, it requires a lot more points of references to be appreciated as art, and not just as part of the surrounding.

A perfume's meaning really does not come into existence until the wearer or the smeller gives it meaning: association with certain events, emotions, people or memories. Not to mention coming to contact with the skin or the medium it's meant to be carried out in or dispersed through.

Additionally, perfume on many levels is like a drug or a medicine that acts deeply on our psyche. Call me self-prescribing, self-proclaimed and appointed doctor of my own soul. And let those who are interested in my little pharmacy explore and and experiment with my wild cocktails.

My greatest challenge in recent years has been staying true to my creative or so-called artistic voice. Not to mention maintaining a viable business while I'm at it. To say that I'm sick and tired of the perfume industry is an understatement. The non-stop pressure to churn up new, meaningless scents is pointless and insulting to consumer's intelligence as The Non Blonde likes to remind us from time to time. This only degrades the "art" of perfumery and reflects negatively at whatever art is left in this field. It's politics are exhausting. It's intricate schemes of control and regulations against natural raw material while the rest of the world is releasing pollution and toxins into the air, earth and water make zero sense. 

Not because I run out of things to "say" - I learned the hard way that when you live your life fully, including embracing the quiet, empty or dull periods, the muse will come to you; but rather because I want to have more time to listen to myself and the trees in the forest. Because I want to create from my heart. Because I want to be heard even if it's very noisy around sometimes to the point of deafening oblivion. Because I want to find my own harmonies in a world that seems to go against the grain and disrespect harmony --
I have made it my mission for this year to not release a new perfume. It won't stop me from being creative with scents or invent new things in my lab. But it has to be at my own pace. It has to go through a certain process that no PR agency or tight deadline can force into a set form.
Now let's see if my business can survive.

In the picture: scent strips on my little bulletin board at my lab, dabbed with fire tree, cistus, red cedarwood and blue cypress oils. Very disharmonious. I stumbled upon this disaster while working on a new project - a beard oil.

Behind the Scents wtih Treazon

Treazon, a photo by Ayala Moriel on Flickr.

I kept the creative process of Treazon concealed from you for the most part. A little glimpse into the artistic direction have been published last year - at which point the formulation was actually ready!

Treazon perfume has been a raw concept for quite some time now. It all began as an impromptu study of tuberose, broken down into its many components - specific molecules, and raw materials that help coax the tuberosiness out of the rather subtle absolute.



Poucher's book played a big role in helping me discover aspects of tuberose I've never before thought would be so important and prevalent in creating a "big tuberose":
From that, I created a sketch that was very simple, yet powerful: tuberose, birch, vanilla, anise, cinnamon and cassis. I blended them up guided by my nose, and set them aside to oblivion with a random name "Treazon" sketched all over the formula and the lab bottle. That was back in October 2005!

This simple little perfume turned out to be crucial in creating the effect I desired so much years later, after experiencing the epiphany of Tubereuse Criminelle in Paris; yet being disappointed at the drydown (too similar to Fleur d'Oranger, in my humble opinion): the almost disturbing scent that takes over the room after dark after bringing home a stem or two of tuberose from the flower shop. It usually happens only in the summer time. And when I find them - I always feel particularly lucky. They are often hard to find, and even once you do find one or two - they tend to be either buried in a bouquet with a bunch of indolic lilies; or very unimpressive visually as they travel long and far and the edges of the petals are often browned and damaged.
 Yet non of this prevents the flower from taking up the entire house (I live and work in a two story apartment) and it makes the few days of living with a tuberose stem quite memorable. Across the street from my home there is a retirement home, and more often than never there are service cars that take folks to their last trip, which is rather sad to watch; but is also a constant reminder of the frailty and preciousness of life. I feel like we live in a very unhealthy segregated society where we separate ourselves from the threatening realities of illness, death and depleted youth; not to mention the "inconvenience" of chattering children, toddlers etc.

So imagine the evening coming down, the bone-flower  placed on my windowsill facing downwards on an ambulance across the street... And the scent of heady flowers coming off strong and potent, non apologetic, and invisibly takes over the scene. That was the inspiration for Treazon at its final stages, which helped me refine my vision for it and also develop a visual representation for the perfume - an aspect that is challenging for such a small establishment; yet sometimes very helpful not only for marketing but also for creating the right mood and being able to communicate my olfactory "story" to my audience. Which is what I'm trying to do now.

It's also a challenge to explain how or why I pick the names for my perfumes. You will notice, if you glance at my perfume collection, that there are some scents that are particularly bold and have big somewhat political names - Espionage, Schizm, Sabotage... These always have a healthy (I think) dose of humour in them but are tackling rather heavy political phenomenon that have caused mankind much pain and strife. I suppose it's just my way of dealing with the things that constantly cast a shadow over our lives and my particular life story (which thankfully is only "not-directly" affected by all the big wars that have been fought by my ancestors and all their resulting misery - displacement, wounding and so on and so forth).

Treason is perhaps the most unforgivable thing: betraying your own people for a very questionable and doubtful cause. Yet it is something we do on a daily basis without even noticing: we betray the people we love the most. We do that unknowingly by revealing something personal about them to someone else who wants to hurt them or gain from their loss. We say bad things about those who are near and dear to us and betray their secrets just because we are weak and need someone to listen to our troubles. And simply because we don't know any better. So you see, treason is not something that is only reserved for heroic wars and to great betrayers of countries, spies and defectors. It's something that we commit in times of truce - or peace - as well.

And to me, all those things associated with treason and treachery have that toxic, bittersweetness of seductive poison. Which is why I picked notes that are rather strange and unusual and controversial. The original sketch has all these components: birch, which is full of salicilates, feeling simultaneously medicinal (wintergreen, menthol and cough syrup) and candy-like (grape and cherry). Cassis is at the same time delicious and berry-like, yet also has what many refer to as "cat pee" smell.

And last but not least: tuberose itself is a flower that people tend to either love or detest. So I won't be in the least surprised if this is the reaction that Treazon will garner: people will either love it, or hate it, for what it is, what it smells like, what it represents - and the name (spelled with a "Z" to make it a little more fun and less literal; besides, I love the look of the letter "Z" and I've been traditionally substituting it for the "s" in many of my perfume names where it is slightly possible).

To the "basic" sketch of Treazon I gradually added other notes to fine tune it and create more complexity and sophistication. Massoia bark for extra milky lacontic goodness. Wintergreen to make it even more medicinal and grape-like. Yellow mandarin for intense floralcy. And that spectacular orange blossom from Egypt for it's particularly grape-like quality, only to intensity the tuberose effect. There is also a tea rose from China (a thing of a rarity), and orris butter and load of vanilla absolute - the dark, slightly woody, real stuff. And did I mention the African stone tincture yet? It brings forth the animalic quality and makes it just ever so slightly meaner - and deeper. And most importantly: a very salicylic tuberose from India, to balance the more buttery and slightly green one I had. All in all, there is 34% tuberose in the entire formula. And at $8,000 a kilo, this makes the final (aka retail) price of Treazon hardly a profitable affair. But I want you to enjoy it while I can make it - so please do!

Back to the Harbour

Coal Harbour in the Winter, a photo by Ayala Moriel on Flickr.

Today was a bright winter day. So beautiful that it reminded me of summer - easy to achieve when I'm at the warmth of my home looking at the sunny outdoors with the birds chirping on the tree. As long as I ignore how nakedly leafless the tree is.

And this sun was giving me just enough boost of inspiration to tackle the difficult matter of the Coal Harbour perfume. Those who have followed this blog know I've began working on it a couple of weeks ago. Those who can read my mind know that I've been contemplating this perfume, with mental notes and sketches of accords in my imagination (and recently also my notebooks) since summer 2009.

Artists are restless. The moment one thing nears completion (see: Etrog perfume) it only gives the confidence to approach more difficult projects that were avoided, procrastinated upon or completely neglected for no reason at all. And so with the progress on my Etrog perfume, I felt even more motivated to open the pandora bottle of the "Coal Harbour Accord" I built around seaweed absolute back in January. It was time to make it pretty.

I proceed cautiously and I will do so quietly for now. But what I have explored on blotter strips back in January is taking shape nicely in the bottle, drop by drop. And I've surprised myself when olibanum (frankincense) was calling for attention from the organ, waving to be included in this perfume. I always find it fascinating how one area of study or focus complements another. I've just finished writing about frankincense and it's been on my mind more than usual. And it seems just right in the perfume. Without me ever knowing it will be there. I love when surprises like that happen.

Etrog Breakthrough

Etrog perfume has been in the making since 2008, when I started collecting tinctures of the fruit (the first batch was created for me by my dear mother). It's been a long process, which was undermined by the scarcity of the fruit, which is precisely what makes it so appealing to create a perfume for.

Shortage of supplies is the first most difficult thing in creating this perfume. The fruit is grown in two places - Calabria (Italy) and in Israel - where it has a religious significance and is grown especially for display during the holiday of Sukkot. So much so, that at single fruit (and not even a very good quality at that - we're most likely looking at fruit that has traveled by boat and whose peel is very far from being plump and fresh) - would start at $40 each.

Thankfully, in Sukkot 2008, I stumbled upon the Sukkah Mobile driven by the very kind and generous Rabbi Binyomin Bitton of Chabad Downtown in Vancouver. He not only told me where I can find citron fruit for myself, but also was happy to donate his own Etrogim at the end of the holiday for all of my perfuming needs. Of course, that year it was not possible because it was a "Shmita" year - and these etrogim were not allowed to be used for any other purpose but for displaying and praying upon during Sukkot. So I had to wait another year before receiving 4 etrogim from him and his sons. Ever since then, he saves me the Etrogim every year!

Meanwhile, there were other elements missing. Green myrtle, which I finally found the oil for. As well as citron peel oil, which I still kept looking for despite its scarcity. It finally turned up, and I have just received the shipment this week!

The oil, however, does not quite resemble the fresh fruit as I imagine it from childhood; nor the (not so fresh fruit) which one can purchase from Chabad or other synagogues in the fall before Sukkot. It does not quite do justice to the heavenly, aromatic, perfumed more than a typical citrus note would be - which resembles pineapple, flowers and is delicate and sublime (that is the best way I can describe citron's scent). It's more lemony than I would have liked it to be. Far too lemony, albeit very lively.



Thankfully, along with the same package of oils, I've also received another floral note which I was never too keen on working with but curious nevertheless: Poplar bud absolute. Pouring this scent into its bottle, it looks like melted butter, dotted with milk solids that couldn't quite melt in the heat. However, it has an aroma that is more medicinal than floral. More than anything else it reminds me of propolis (the intense smelling sticky resinous substance bees use to seal their hives with; it's also extremely valuable for its therapeutic uses:it's an antibiotic, anti microbial and anti fungal, strengthens the immune system, and is useful in treating burns as well). But it also reminds me of the white part of the citrus peel - which is exactly what I was after with the Etrog perfume. So now that my main theme oils are in (citron and myrtle - both of which are symbols of the holiday of Sukkot), and my floral heart is figured out, I think I can finally get into full swing of my perfume creation, and have it ready for you in the summer. It will be a Jewish Eau de Cologne!

Morning Notes from Coal Harbour

One of my favourite ways to start the day is a little walk in Coal Harbour. Just a few blocks down Bute Street you'll find Harbour Green park and a little aquaplane airport, from which you can take off any time of the day and fly to Victoria, Nanaimo, the Sunshine Coasts and who knows where else...

I call this my little "morning commute", a necessary piece of fake routine that's paramount for the well-being of someone working from their residential space, in a city that never stops raining. It's easy to find excuses to never leave the house (all good ones too - work that needs to be done, errands around the house, and the desire to throw in a good Pilates routine by the fireplace before doing anything else). But this breath of fresh air, the little connection to the world around me (no matter how alienated and cold it might seem from the warmth of my own abode, and never mind that half of the people outside are absorbed in their cellphones).

Coal Harbour is increasingly populated by taller and larger glass towers, which are pretty - but also completely block the sun in the afternoon. That's why I save Sunset Beach for my evening walks... And in summer mornings (which is when the above photo was taken, though it's hard to tell the season from this photograph...), the green grass is dewy and sometimes even intensely fragrant if it was just cut (which it was on the morning when I took these notes).

My favourite part of my faux daily commute is watching the airplanes take off the water, waiting for that exact moment in time and space where the splashy, noisy trail they leave in the water disappears, and they transform from a fast surfing duck into a flying hawk, circling above the harbour before heading to their destination. And of course - this doesn't come without smell either. Jet fuel never smelled sweeter and more exotic then when mingled with the salty air of seaweed drying in the sun at low tide. Animalic, fishy and verging on the disgusting, but smells like music to my nose.

Last night I finally received the missing piece - one raw material that I terribly needed to get started on this perfume: seaweed absolute. Unlike the seaweed oil I have used in New Orleans and Orcas - this one in full strength is quite disgusting actually; unless you think of it as a packet of hijiki seaweed with the potential of becoming a favourite dish...

And so my composing have began, and not on a very positive note, naturally. I added the seaweed absolute along with a few essences that will make the "jet fuel" accord and the result is, ahum, maybe realistic enough to remind one of the real-life source of inspiration - but certainly not what I'd put on before a night on the town. Or any time, for that matter. However, I stopped right at the exact moment before I would waste too much material and started contemplating juxtaposing this horrific accord with other more delicate and refreshing notes of cut grass, linden blossom and such (all of which remind me of Coal Harbour, of course) and I think I'm off to a pretty good start in my adventure. As long as I don't use it as an excuse to not leave the house tomorrow morning...

Way Too Orange

orange yemenite etrog, originally uploaded by sambo in netanya.

My last mod of my Etrog perfume turned out juicy and mouthwatering delicious. That's nice and dandy. But it smells nothing like Etrog at all!
It smells way too orange.
It smells more like Japanese citron (aka yuzu) than the Jewish citron.

I've still got a long way to go with this one and as much as I love wearing this sweet citrus jus, it's not what I meant for it to be. Etrog should be far more elegant and dry and subtle.

I need to make a stronger Etrog tincture.
And I need to find myself some good quality myrtle (an essence that don't normally have at my fingertips because it's quite medicinal). I could fake it with some eucalyptus, which is very similar, to get a fast-snapshot of what I'd like for it to be. However, this perfume is all about the actual ingredients and their symbolic significance so I'm going to just wait patiently until I find it!

I'm really liking the base though, which features cypress. It's a very Mediterranean scent and I really want this perfume to feel very true to its origins and the region - yet very refined, elegant and subtle. It also has frankincense and olive resin as fixative which I feel are very appropriate for this perfume.

The route is long and winding... And I'm enjoying it. Which is more important than where I'm going and when I'm getting there.

Gentille Alouette in the Lab

I love my job!, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

It’s been 2 weeks since I last told you anything about the development of the Gentille Alouette perfume. And this quote is pushing ahead of a the game a bit.. But this is the reaction I was hoping for when I was labouring at my lab and trying to bottle Eliza’s vision for what she would smell like.

By now you are all probably dying to read what essences did we actually pick together?
Well, I can’t tell you everything, can I?

What I will tell you is that this Gentille Alouette perfume was going to be a violet and orange blossom scent with a big retro wink and one foot set in the forests of the Sunshine Coast, where Eliza prefers to spend her free time. It had to be very girly and at the same time have enough adventurous outroodsiness to it to save it from going totally frou-frou. This is just not who Eliza is, and it’s not what Gentille Alouette’s frequent guests are either. These are girls who like to play dress up but also like to use their bicycles rather than get driven by a cab so they can show off their stilettos… The shop is like a little hidden closet you find all of a sudden, full of fashion finds of all sorts: vintage jewels and beaded clutches, hand-crafted gowns and accessories, recycled and reclaimed one-off pieces, and wardrobe staples from small brands that keep rotating – you’ll find something new to discover at the shop every week and unless we meet at my studio, I always end up playing dress-up by the end of every meeting with Eliza. The women who shop there are individualistic, kind spirited and seem to care about the environment as much as they care about their appearance.

But I digress… This post was not going to be about marketing schemes and dissecting the target market of my client and her future perfume. It’s going to be about the creative process that leads to a perfume. Perfume walks the tightrope between art, luxury, fashion and a commodity, so all those factor re just as valid: price range, target market and profitability (or at least breaking even…) are just as important factors as is the originality of the scent, the mood it will evoke once worn, the story behind each raw material, and the artistry that goes into blending all these elements together: perfume, personality, wearability.

I left Eliza’s shop some 2 weeks ago with no less than 20 essences that she loved, and that seem to work together beautifully. Nearly all of them are utterly precious: violet leaf, orange blossom, rose, boronia, tuberose… Each can be the centerpiece of a perfume and take the show. Yet I had to make them all shine together, rather than individually. Which was not easy. To top it off, Eliza also wanted fir absolute AND hinoki in this perfume. I decided to leave the hinoki to later, if necessary, and for now work with the fir only and create two version – one with, and one without.

Perfumer's Notebook, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

To help me not loose focus, I drew a little diagram that shows the dynamics between the different notes: how they relate to one another and how they play different roles in different accords. Eliza loves tea, and she picked some tea like notes: bergamot, which reminds her of Earl Gray tea. Lavender, which is calming and relaxing (she also saws those little tiny lavender cat brooches with buttoned eyes – they’re adorable and give whiffs of lavender whenever you squish them a bit, to give you a fix of relaxation when you’re out and about…).

Citrus notes blood orange and grapefruit will perform the role of bursting open the experience alluring you in from the get go.
And the flowers, of course, are the starts of the show, but they divide into two – the orange blossom accord and the violet accord (so you see, the rose is here only in a supporting role to the timid violet).
Surprising gourmand notes are what will give the perfume a quirky touch, a surprise: star anise and tarragon absolute, along with fresh ginger.
And than there is fir absolute – which is also a woodsy note, but very, very sweet and almost like a jam made of the entire forest and delivered to your door on Christmas Day… So it joins together the gourmand and the woods – the more meditative notes of sandalwood, frankincense and maybe, but only maybe, hinoki…

I spent 2 main sessions with Gentille Alouette in the lab. My first try (August 20th) was based strictly and almost analytically on the sessions we had with Eliza. I thought it to be a little timid, and I was very careful with the concentration – making it rather light. I used only very light hand with the boronia (pre-diluted at 30%) and violet (pre-diluted at 10%). And I made two versions that day: one with a tiny bit of fir, and one without.

I let it sit for a while, and than I thought – why not just get my imagination go wild a bit and compose Gentille Alouette perfume as I envisioned it when I first met Eliza at the studio, and she told me that her favourite scents are violet and orange blossom… She liked White Potion, Zohar and Violat and my little olfactory bulb was sending me signals of what these three, plus a hint of boronia, will smell like… I set off again, 5 days later, (August 24th) and blended that: a rich, dense version with higher concentrations of boronia absolute and violet leaf absolute, both at full strength. I added no fir whatsoever and stayed true to my vision.

I tweaked it just a bit this morning, before I met Eliza: I added another drop of Boronia absolute. I divided the batch into two, and added one drop of fir absolute to one bottle, which would make it the 4th mod of the Gentille Alouette scent. I think the fir was the element that was missing from giving it just that little extra smooth roundedness yet without using vanilla (Eliza clearly does not like this note an I was not going to convince her otherwise! There are enough vanilla-laden florals out there, and her perfume does not need it). I’m loving this perfume and I think I’ve nailed it on the head, but it’s going to be up to Eliza to decide what’s best for her. And also if we’re going to do a parfum extrait or an Eau de Parfum…

Stay tuned to hear about the following: what mod Eliza picked, and how we are going to tackle the next biggest problem: packaging.