Natural Joy, Organic Bliss

Bliss, originally uploaded by Dave Ward Photography.

After long procrastination, I have finally got my hands on some samples of Rich Hippie’s perfumes, thanks to a kind swapper via MUA. While Utopia left me only slightly uplifted from my current state (yuzu has the ability to do that to you) ; and Nirvana left me numbly bored – Wild Thing was the one to grab my attention, instantly (and no, it was not because of its steep price point). Wild Thing is as close as a natural perfume ever got to Patou’s infamous “Joy” (at its time bearing the slogan of being "the most expensive perfume in the world”). But the two have more in common than their high price. They both celebrate the luscious beauty of jasmine and rose. In Wild Thing, there is hardly anything else (a little bit of citrus at the opening, and a very subtle orris note). The rose almost gets lost in the bush of sultry, penetrating jasmine. The indole is intoxicating and beautiful. Almost outrageously so. Wild thing is a rich (pun intended) but not overpowering kind of floral and while very animalistic it is never repulsively so. Despite the fact that there is no civet at the base to my knowledge (which is what makes Joy parfum slightly “dirty”) – you get a similar vibe from the dry down of Wild Thing – it’s always jasminey and quite long lasting; though I can’t really tell what is it in the base that make it linger so long (no particular note stands out enough to be noticed, aside from the rose and the jasmine; and whatever iris there is there – it is very subtle, which makes me wonder if it is not used merely as a fixative). To the flower girl within me, Wild Thing is pure bliss and thankfully it is not in the least “hippie”.

On a completely other note, being a by-product of the hippie era myself, I can’t say I am particularly thrilled by the names or the concept of the Rich Hippie line. There are plenty of things that deeply irritate me when I read the website that have nothing to do with my personal taste (or with my lack of fondness of the brand’s paradoxical name): the perfume-history inaccuracies, the scare tactics, and last but not least – the inconsistency in regards to the quality or grade of the materials used (i.e. what is organic). The bottles are all labeled as “Organic Perfume”, yet in the list of notes, sometimes the same notes are listed as organic and sometimes they aren’t. My conclusion is that the alcohol is most likely organic, while maybe some of the essences could be organically grown (especially when listed that way) but many I suspect aren’t. Of course, the overall mystery around the subject contributes to the justification of the higher price point This brings a whole new issue which was brought up to me today: the definitions of “natural” and “organic” product, when referring to perfumes.

Recently, several new health-food-store distributed lines of fragrances were launched , branching out from aromatherapy into the real of “natural” or “organic” fragrances. Theoretically, it’s nice to see this happening – natural fragrances becoming more popular and being semi-mass-marketed. However, we are back to square one in terms of truth in labeling and advertising. Why? Because what makes these products “organic” is not necessarily the fragrance they are made of but the carrier. In order for a product to be certified organic, it needs to be made 95% certified organic components; and it can be labeled as “made with organic ingredients” if it uses at least 70% organic ingredients. The remaining 30% is easily open to interpretations, and could, for example – in the case of perfume – mean that the alcohol base is organic alcohol (usually grain or grape alcohol); but the remaining 30%, where the scent actually comes from, could easily be not organically grown, not to mention – it could even include synthetic molecules. Keeping in mind that the alcohol stays on the skin only for a few second, I am afraid I’m not particularly impressed! In other words – read the label and ingredient list very carefully before you fool yourself to thinking you are using an organic product.

As a flower-child’s daughter, I was brought up in an organic village, and I can tell you quite a bit about what organic farming is, and what is required for any crop to be considered organic. To put it simply, the crops must be:
Not genetically modified or engineered (aka non GMO)
Grown with no pesticides or herbicides
Grown with no chemical fertilizers
Grown within a reasonable distance from pollution sources (i.e.: other farms that use pesticides and herbicides)

In other words, the crops should be grown as pure as possible from any chemical or biological human interventions. To ensure that, most countries have their own body that certifies organic farms and companiess adhering to these standards. To be certified organic the farm must be assessed by a third party that will look at those factors and certify the produce or the products of that farm with the organization’s seal. The seal of approval can be also found on other products, such as prepared foods, cosmetics, cleaning products and body products.

On another note, I am yet to find a jasmine absolute that is certified organic. In fact, the mere act of extracting absolute from a plant is non-organic as it requires the use of synthetic solvents (only traces of which will be found in the absolute). Some even argue that absolutes are not natural (and I will discuss more of that in a future post, tomorrow). The groves of jasmine are sparse in the world and I haven’t heard of an organic one as of yet. Citrus and herbs are more easy to find organically, but the flower essences for the most part are very challenging. If you know of a source I would be happy to get that information from you …

I would be very curious to hear from anyone here who owns an original bottle from this line if there is any seal to attest to its certified organicness.

As you can see, the definition of “organic” is quite ambiguous, perhaps even more so than the definition of “natural”. If you want to further investigate here are two interesting links on the topic:

SkinCare @ Lovetoknow.com
PioneerThinking.com
HallGold.com

Joy

05073006, originally uploaded by madamlemon.

The kind of perfume that might make you see fireworks when you kiss it. First time I’ve worn it this is exactly what I did: I happened to stumble upon a small bottle of the EDT in the drugstore, and bought it on the way to watching the fireworks festival on the beach. Of course I opened the package right away and worn it. It was summer. And Joy EDT smelled like peach, lily of the valley and a lot of jasmine and rose. It was a nice date, but I didn’t feel like it was “the one”, despite the fireworks…

Years later, I was fortunate enough to sample the parfum extrait from a perfume friend. This was a completely different story: carnal jasmine underlined with carnal civet. The repetition here is intentional, as carnal it was. When the opportunity rose, I ordered a new bottle via eBay. I opened it and tried it and was terribly disappointed: something terribly powdery was lingering at the top. The juice felt somewhat overly fresh… As if the components haven’t married quite into what I sampled (which I am now certain has matured somehow more after the flacon was opened). The aldehydes seemed disturbing and the florals seemed cloying and disharmonious somehow. Yet the dry down was the right thing, so I knew the juice had the potential… Besides, one can’t just skip on a classic and dismiss it just because of several wearings. Give it a chance and try it another time or season. It may win you over.

And so I did. Yesterday night, as I was writing, I felt like Joy. I dabbed some on, and between the heat, the dim-lit room and the contemplative writing, I discovered my new affection for this classic that survived The Great Depression and the age of celebrity perfumes (Joy was created in 1930, by Jean Patou's in-house nose Henri Almeras).

It starts with peach aldehydes and heady powdery top notes, and quickly moves into an opulent floral bouquet of jasmine, rose de mai, and a bit of lily of the valley. The base is ever so luscious and carnal, drenched in civet and adds a pulsating raw energy to what otherwise would be just a polite fruity floral. Even though the jasmine is a heart note per-se, in this perfume it is present in all the phases: top, heart and base. First it is more heady and slightly green, and as it dries down it becomes more indolic until finally it becomes soft, even ambery.

I believe it is best worn on a balmy evening for a candle-lit dinner on the patio of a fine restaurant. If you prefer to smell the dewy rose de mai, you may prefer the Eau de Toilette or simply wear it on chilly winter days to your boardroom meeting. But don’t be surprised if your colleagues won’t be able to concentrate on the agenda.

Top notes: Peach, Aldehydes
Heart notes: Jasmine from Grasse, Rose de Mai from Grasse, Lily of the Valley
Base notes: Civet, Sandalwood, Musk

Image of Joy vintage black glass bottle from Parfums Raffy.

Samsara

Without going too much into the meaning of the name, I would just hint that the sound of it is actually much more attractive than the actual meaning. Perhaps Guerlain overlooked some of the deeper meaning of the name while making their decisions, as Samsara being the “endless cycle of birth and re-birth” is exactly what, according to Budhism, we’re trying to redeem ourselves from to reach nirvana. I also heard at certain point that metaphorically, the concept of Samsara is likened to seven heaps of dung, being the different stages of life which we go through and symbolize our attachment to the physical worlds. But nevertheless, this is a beautiful perfume, and perhaps it reflects very well the beauty of the cycle of life, the beauty which probably makes us attached to it and have the illusion that we have reached nirvana even though we are very far from it…

Samsara has become a modern classic, and is perhaps one of the best creations of Jean-Paul Guerlain, in my opinion. Perhaps the one scent that he will be most significantly remembered for.

Perhaps the one thing that characterizes Samsara most of all is its homogenous scent, without being flat or one-dimensional. The theme of Sandalwood-Jasmine accord pervades throughout the composition, but at every stage it has a different nuance to it, which adds interest and depth. In that sense, Samsara is at once simple (a-la the modern linear scents), and complex (because, thanks god, it is NOT linear!). Samsara is circular, it’s an olfactory cycle, dynamicly flowing, yet always comes back to the same things, the three element that make it such a unique fragrance, a combination of sheer pleasure and an almost ecstatic religious experience: Woody notes (mostly sandalwood), White Florals (jasmine and ylang ylang), and culinary sweetness (vanilla and tonka bean). You really couldn’t have asked for anything better put together.

Sweet and fresh fruity top notes of peach and bergamot and the light, soft powdery allure of linalool (perhaps from rosewood?) engages you to explore the creamy, fruity-floral ylang ylang notes. That brings you to the heart of Samsara – a few different types of Indian jasmine (grandiflorum and sambac) and indolic yet subtle notes of narcissus dusted with the butteriness of Orris root in the classical tradition of Guerlain.

The base is dominated by a rich, vanilla-infused woody note of fine Mysore Sandalwood and is further rounded by the warmth of Atlas Cedarwood.

Buddha and Plastic Flowers, originally uploaded by Curious_Spider

The overall impression is sweet, woody, and subtly floral. It is an ideal for floriental fans, and is excellent for almost all seasons. I find the EDT nicer, where as the Parfum is a bit overly sweet, and for some reason smells rubbery, plasticy and more synthetic than the EDT (hence the above image, courtesy of C. David Wendig). The woody-powdery notes are more accentuated in the EDT which makes it particularly suitable for warm weather. I also like the EDP, which offers the best of both worlds – the extreme smoothness of the parfum, minus the plasticy feeling, and I believe can be enjoyed in warm weather as well. The body lotion, by the way, is heavenly, and has a sillage that requires no further enhancement (meaning: you can wear it on its own and won’t need any perfume added…). It has a different scent though, it’s far more sweet and the peach and cedar notes are more pronounced.

Top notes: Peach, Citrus, Ylang Ylang, Linalool (rosewood?)
Heart notes: Jasmine Sambac, Jasmine Grandiflorum, , Narcissus, Orris root
Base notes: Sandalwood, Tonka bean, Amber, Atlas Cedarwood, Vanilla

If you have become obsessed with Samsara, here are a couple of clips for you, including the trailer for Pan Nalin's film by this name:

Eau Sauvage

From the moment I met Eau Sauvage, it was steaming passion. It’s sparkling clarity and bold sensuality are seductively well-mannered. Eau Sauvage is what I would want to immediately splash onto a man’s chest and than bury my head into... This would probably be my one recommendation, aside from necessary precautions, for a blind-date gadget (whether if you are a man or a woman)… It radiates good taste and vibrates with a lively charm. Eau Sauvage has the sensuality of clean, freshly showered skin, smooth just-shaved cheekbones, the sweater of a lover left behind for further cuddling and sniffing, permeated with the impeccable scents of sweat sweet hay.

As a side note I may ad: I wasn’t exposed to the Eau Sauvage ads featuring showers and mysterious men just about to take off their black sweater – and was pleasantly surprised to find them fitting to my own internal image of the scent (which is quite unusual in the world of perfume ads).

It wasn’t until I became a perfumer that I learned that the magic charm here lies with the oakmoss. Oakmoss has the power to add a rich, complex underlining base to what otherwise would be just another one of the many fleeting eaux de citrus & herbs. And so while Eau Sauvage is unmistakably sparkling with citrus, it is also one of the first Chypre for men, and actually a revolutionary fragrance in its time.

Eau Sauvage was one of the very few significantly different fragrances for men. The fragrant history around the world (Arabia, India, Ancient Greece and Rome) tells us that men indulged shamelessly in a diverse selection of aromatics: from sweet and indolic flowers (rose and jasmine) to heavily sweet balsams, incense, musk and ambergris. Contrary to that, the modern Western man, since perhaps the days of Napoleon or even earlier, submitted themselves to a painfully limited palette of aromas: citrus, aromatic herbs, woods and some musk. Anything sweeter, heavier or more floral was reserved for women. Of course – there were a handful of significant and unusual scents for men prior to Eau Sauvage: Jicky (Guerlain, 1889, considered the first modern perfume but also one that dared to question the gender boundaries of perfume), Mouchoir de Monsieur (Guerlain, 1904), Pour Un Homme (Caron, 1934), Old Spice (originally released by Shultan in 1937 and was actually marketed for women but happily adopted by men).

What reserves Eau Sauvage such a special place in perfume history are two things: its composition, of course, but also it’s timing. It was released in 1966, a time when men were perhaps ready to start breaking out of the strict olfactory boundaries that locked them in a clean prison of citrus and herbs. Other scents released around this era are Tabac Original (1959), Chanel’s Pour Monsieur (1955), Pino Silvestre (1955), Monsieur de Givenchy (1959) and Creed’s Cuir de Russie (1953). These paved the path to the revolution of men’s scents, a quiet revolution that is still happening and morphing quietly into a rebel against the exact same things that restricted Western men, olfactory-wise, for the past two centuries. Eau Sauvage was a milestone in breaking out of the norm – starting with the use of substantial amounts of oakmoss and patchouli at the base, and hedione and jasmine in the heart. Only few people at the time knew that the Maestro had an even more revolutionary scent in stock – the one reserved for his wife Therese (designed for her earlier, in 1960). In Eau Sauvage, Roudniska used only a bare amount of the hedione comparing to his masterpiece for his wife, and none of the aquatic melony notes used in Le Parfum de Therese. But the use of citrus and basil and an expanding jasmine heart created a very similar effect, yet one that was be more easily acceptable by his audience.

Another departure from the norm was its mass appeal to both men and women. Since the release of Jicky, there wasn’t as much olfactory “gender-confusion”, and everybody felt comfortable stealing each other’s cologne, as long as it was Eau Sauvage. Diorella was sooon to follow, perhaps to shut down the cologne-kidnapping complaints and cologne-custody court battles that followed Eau Sauvage and threatened to break too many marriages… Diorella was a toned down version of Le Parfum de Therese, and a floraler version of Eau Sauvage (more hedione, and more jasmine, with the addition of melon). Where Diorella failed (marketing wise), other houses gained and started releasing many more unisex scents ever since – O de Lancome (1969), Diptyque’s l’Eau (1968), Santa Mari Novella’s Melograno (1965), Goutal’s Eau d’Hadrien (1981) – and than the explosion (or shall we say inflation?) in unisex fragrance in the 90’s, accompanying and/or following Calvin Klein’s One (1994).

The use of basil, citrus and oakmoss is genius, and along with the jasmine, considering it’s time, it is also daring. To me it will always stay at the top – the epitome of masculine fragrances, and fragrances at large.


Top notes: Lemon, Pine, Lime

Heart notes: Basil, Jasmine, Carnation

Base notes: Oakmoss, Patchouli, Musk, Hay


Image credits:
Posters from VintagePosterArt.com
Bottle image from Dior.com

Yasmin: A Midsummer’s Night Dream

THE SONG OF THE JASMINE FAIRY

In heat of summer days
With sunshine all ablaze,
Here, here are cool green bowers,
Starry with Jasmine flowers;
Sweet-scented, like a dream
Of Fairyland they seem.

And when the long hot day
At length has worn away,
And twilight deepens, till
The darkness comes--then, still,
The glimmering Jasmine white
Gives fragrance to the night.





If there was a jasmine flower for every magic hour I spent with my friend Yasmin, I would have a whole garden, with jasmine in full bloom. Yasmin always listened, and despite the fact that she did not like her handwriting, both her spoken and written words always seemed magically poetic and could paint a picture that could be only seen on the hidden canvas of the mind.

With her words she has created a whole kingdom of fairies, and they all lived on a tiny machine (which really was like a piece of earth, with little flowers on it). It all started with a magic rabbit. A white rabbit, just like Alice’s – white with red eyes but no watch. He lived on the little machine, which was the size of an adult’s palm. He grew tiny carrots and tiny flowers in his garden (on the machine). Later, many good fairies appeared

When we were little girls, Yasmin’s miniature stories provided an escape from the cruel world that threatened the perfection of childhood, just as my little matchbox sized match-dolls and miniatures created a portal to a small world where everything can be controlled and can only be good. We spent hours playing with Yasmin’s miniature dolls from England (they had little tea sets, kettles and all), drawing castles in the clouds, diving into the fairy illustrations of Cicely Mary Barker, and getting lost in Mirkwood with the hobbits and elves. When we were teenagers, we spent the afternoons doing yoga on the grass until the mosquitoes chased us to the screened indoors, where we spent the rest of the evening figuring out who we are what we will become when we finally grow up, and inventing words for things that did not exist in our language’s dictionary. Now that we can call ourselves grown-ups, Yasmin moved on to bringing happiness by listening and reflecting, while I kept on creating miniature (this time odorous) universes, packed in tiny pebble-like flacons and embedded with fairies...

I could have probably dedicate a whole line of perfumes just based on jasmine notes. And in the case of developing a scent for my friend Yasmin, it seemed as if each scent that I made showed one aspect of both my friend and the flowers that bear her name.

The first perfume I made smelled exactly like her house. Her family is well known for their travels to India, and there are many Indian smells in the house: from Indian dull and curries, to incense and fragrant oils, patchouli-scented shawls, and the endless bloom of jasmine which I mentioned earlier. The first scent – a heavy concoction of amber, patchouli, frankincense, champaca, kewda and jasmine - was instantly embraced by no other than Yasmin’s mother, who adopted it immediately as her signature perfume. In an essence, this perfume smelled like her house, so it was no surprise to neither of us.

The second perfume I made for Yasmin was the one she actually adopted for herself: it was equally floral and citrus, and not as heavy. Tart citrus top notes of lemon and bergamot, soft floral heart of jasmine, orange blossom, ylang ylang and tuberose over a light base of sandalwood, benzoin and frankincense, and just the bare tinge of vanilla.

Last year, before Yasmin’s wedding, I made her a new perfume, which I thought would be even better suited for her, and equally balancing tart elements (she loves sour fruit, and hates candy!), jasmine heart and a sophisticated base. This time it was a contrast between lime, jasmine and tonka, and I thought that this time I nailed down Yasmin’s signature perfume.

But I still wanted to tell the world my little fairy story, and share my love to my friend and the flowers she is named after. To do so I wanted to create a jasmine soliflore. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Yasmin means jasmine in both Hebrew and Arabic. And as corny as this may sound, I cannot help but think of my friend whenever I smell these white, intoxicating blossoms – particularly jasmine grandiflorum. Although it was relatively easy to come up with a Signature Perfume for my friend Yasmin – partly because I know her so well and partly because she is so easy going and loves everything that I do; it took a long time before I achieved the results I was aiming for the jasmine soliflore. It took a while before I managed to capture the scent surrounding my friend’s house – the scent of jasmine bushes, always lush, always blooming… The house is still there, the jasmines are still there. My friend’s adventurous parents are still there when they are not traveling. But now we both have grown up and we don’t live in our parents’ houses anymore. Now, instead of telling fairy stories to her friends and practice figure skating, Yasmin listens to the life stories of her clients she councils in London, and continues to study psychology and practice Kiteido around the world.

Yasmin perfume is now complete. When I smell it, I am flashbacked into my parents home’s front stone patio, picking the scarce flowers at dawn, experimenting in turning them into a tongue-numbing tea… Or planting jasmine sambac flowers in my own dew-laden garden on an early summer morning, with my baby daughter carried on my back… Gradually, the jasmines become less green and more voluptuous, the narcotic queen of the night impregnates the nights spent on the hammock under the stars, filled with endless conversations. I am gradually lulled into sleep by voluptous jasmine, sandalwood incense, and amber. A Midsummer’s Night Dream euphoria.

THE SONG OF THE WINTER JASMINE FAIRY

All through the Summer my leaves were green,
But never a flower of mine was seen;
Now Summer is gone, that was so gay,
And my little green leaves are shed away.
In the grey of the year
What cheer, what cheer?

The Winter is come, the cold winds blow;
I shall feel the frost and the drifting snow;
But the sun can shine in December too,
And this is the time of my gift to you.
See here, see here,
My flowers appear!

The swallows have flown beyond the sea,
But friendly Robin, he stays with me;
And little Tom-Tit, so busy and small,
Hops where the jasmine is thick on the wall;
And we say: "Good cheer!
We're here! We're here!"

* Ilustrations and poems by Cicely Mary Barker
Photos and poems found on this site

Diorissimo

Diorissimo is the essence of spring, and as it’s genius creator Roudniska has said, it captures the scent of the flowers as well as the natural atomsphere where the little modest flowers grow - green foliage and damp and chilly forest floor.

Diorissimo evokes an instantly cheerful mood and a happy and positive attitude as soon as it delights with its presence. It radiates a certain pure and youthfully innocent quality that makes it a perfect scent for initiating young girls into the world of perfumery, and perhaps even seducing them into a premature wedding with its intoxicating and euphoric scent.

As an Eau de Toilette, Diorissimo is a soliflore lily of the valley, in fact – the only one that I smelled so far that captures the scent of the crisp little white bells without smelling headily synthetic and develop into a flat, shallow nuisance on the skin.

In the Eau de Toilette I can smell mostly the galbanum, boronia and jasmine, all in a supporting role to the heady scent of freshly picked lily of the valley.

The pure parfum, however, has a more deep and less single-floral feel to it. The rose and jasmine are more dominant and the boronia works really well in accentuating the green and fresh spring qualities. I have also detected certain amount of oakmoss in the base. It is very subtle - but I think it does what it needs to do. I used to like the EDT much better, abut now I prefer the parfum.

Top notes: Green Glabanum notes
Heart notes: Lilly of the Valley, Boronia, Calyx, Rose
Base notes: Jasmine, Sandalwood, Civet

Jasmines

There are so many types of jasmine, and while I haven’t seen many Jasmine grandiflorum or Sambac blooming this spring, a different variety that is totally new to me has captured my nose’s attention. It has a delicate aroma that is lightly peach-like, while being ultimately jasmine.
The yellow jasmine is the least fragrant of all jasmine varieties, and is mostly appreciated for its colour.