Serge Lutens La Myrrhe: fragrance review

Frankincense is met at the church as the censer spreads the fragrant smoke in the congregation. Myrrh is met at asketaria; monastic places of anchorites who end up their days exuding the smell of sanctity...or so witnesses say. In the iconoclastic La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens myrrh takes center stage given a centripental force spin which makes you lean your neck all the way up to there to just observe the gracious arc before it plunges into bittersweet soap¨aldehydes play their part with bravado. The overlaying accents of mandarin and honeyed notes melt's La Myrrhe's bitter resinous heart into the illusion of prettiness. When in fact it's a compellingly strange study in contrasts.

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The word "demon" (δαίμων) means spirit or divine power replete with knowledge in classical Greek mythology; at least up to the Neo-Platonics. Hence Socrates's famous claim of "being true to his inner demonium" and Diotema's lesson to him in Plato's Symposium that "love is a greater demon". Is myrrh therefore a demon? An entity between material (mortal) and spirit (divine knowledge)?

Myrrh is indeed someplace between the two; its very nature bears this duality. On the one side a numbing of the senses; a narcotic hedone that lulls the pain. On the other a scourging bitterness that reminds us of the pain of life. Two isomers that share the same structure arranged in different ways; two faces of Janus.

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Lutens and his perfumer sidekick Christopher Sheldrake were therefore the first to showcase the Janus-like nature of myrrh for all its worth in their epoch making creation. Experiencing La Myrrhe takes multiple uses to savor the bittersweet elements and the waxy-aldehydic shimmer that glistens upon skin application. I very much doubt I was fully aware of the complexity and irony built into it when zooming on the reddish liquid and paying for it that momentous time back. It must have been pure instinct or the patron saint of perfumery St. Magdalene who guided my young hand; it was my very first "bell jar" out of the purple seraglio in the Palais Royal and it marked me with its duality ever since.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Saffran Troublant: fragrance review

Although saffron and roses are a favorite combination in many a niche fragrance offering these days, back in 2002, when Safran Troublant actually launched, it was unusual and arresting. Typically with L'Artisan Parfumeur, the road was laid for other travelers to travel through; paths well trodden and less explored alike, but the French brand founded by perfumer Jean Laporte in the late 1970s was a pioneer.

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Safran Troublant, if not marking high on the novelty value impressions score nowadays, still is an arresting scent, if only because it manages to balance the precarious precipice of clandestine smolder and comforting warmth. Roses are not especially simpatico for various reasons, but when given the sheath of a pitch-black collaborator, such as leather, or patchouli, or aoudh or -indeed- saffron, I stand on attention and pay my respects.

There's something about Safran Troublant, at once mouthwatering and "troubling" as its moniker in French denotes. The lactonic creaminess it projects recalls eating rosewater puddings with vanilla, someplace East. The suede-like saffron spice is enhanced by the depths of an irresistibly cozy, musky embrace that draws you in closer. Oddly enough it creates desire to the same degree that it quenches it; a discreet fragrance you might take for granted, like one's mainstay in the wardrobe, but leaving you with the renewed sensation of always looking at it with eyes afresh.

Lolita Lempicka eau de parfum by Lolita Lempicka: fragrance review

The playing field of fairy tale and dangerous complicity has brought us the poisoned apple. THE emblematic symbol of sexual provocation, thanks to Eve and the serpent, literally or metaphorically poisoned-laced apples have featured in a cohort of fairy tales to suggest a provocation leading to knowing one in the biblical sense; just not spelled out for kids' sake, you know.

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Apple shaped bottles in perfumery are many, from Nina Ricci's 1952 fittingly named Fille d'Eve to Joop's All About Eve. The most recognizable ones are the Poison fragrances issued by Dior, the original cunningly colored to look like a cursed object. Hypnotic Poison amongst the line-up purposefully recalls the tale of Snow White, with its demonically bittersweet almond in the top note, which suggests something dubiously edible; would he bite or would he not?

It is the irony of the gods of perfumery that Annick Menardo is the driving force behind not only this bittersweet Angelica's Ring of a scent, but also of the second most popular fragrance in an apple-shaped bottle. Lolita Lempicka original eau de parfum was the first Angel-spawn to deviate from the Parisian amusement fair of chocolate-patchouli and cotton candy froth into an arpeggio that played pipes in the far away forest.

Beckoning you ever closer into the danger zone, with its violet heart candied with licorice, and shaded by intricate coils of climbing ivy which threatened to imprison you. It smells medicinal and weird. But also oddly appealing!

Not coincidentally, the apple has been a reference for Menardo herself who has confessed being introduced to perfumes via another, contrastingly innocent and tame fragrance by Max Factor. She puts a hint in her work here and there. In Lolita Lempicka EDP she overdosed the licorice with its anise-like tonalities to hide the juiciness of the apple in order to render a perversely mischievous nymph that entices you...just like Eve. It plays the little girl, but she's corrupted by the knowledge of the biblical sense. As marauders lie in ambush for a victim, so do bands of perfumers apparently.

In Praise of Room Spray Worn as Fine Fragrance

Most people using home scent do so to refresh a room: deodorise smoke from cigarettes or staleness; drive away the miasma of fried oil cooking; re-invigorate the air with new stimuli instead of the same emitions its inhabitants produce daily. But there are some of us who actually use home scents -and sprays in particular thanks to their instant gratification benefit- to give an instant edge.

Moody fragrances with complex profiles sprayed on the curtains and the cushions can complement melancholic thoughts when one wants to wallow in them; make one more concentrated in their intellectual work; or induce greater peace of mind and serenity when the world outside has gone a tad rougher than anticipated.

I freely admit my fondness for sprayed forms of fragrance; the quick fssssst makes for instant gratification having the volatile molecules disperse to their room's air and surrounding me in waves of pleasure. I also admit to often decadently use some of my pricier scents in the home exactly for that purpose: suffusing a room with my signature scent or altering its ambience in a couple of instants. Kids today say YOLO, do they not? They have a point. But there are scents purposefully meant for spraying in the home called "room sprays". Admittedly niche brands have limited their available scents in that medium which begs a question as to why, yet there are still a few excellent choices out there.

Aedes de Venustas developed a limited edition scent in collaboration with L'Artisan Parfumeur which focuses on the mystical symbiosis of Japanese incense and tons of intense musk for a balancing act that creates a deep and resonant ambience. I fell in love the very first instant I smelled it; it was a gift from a special friend I knew from the US directly from the source but it also played on all my heart's fondest strings. I hadn't actually been so mesmerized by a room spray's apocryphal message since smelling Essence of John Galliano by Diptyque (now lamentably discontinued). It merited enjoying in full. Visitors thought the same thing.

The niche boutique soon saw the potential and issued a proper perfume with this structure boosting the spicier aspects with pepper and cardamom as well as milder pink pepper and called it  L`Artisan Parfumeur Aedes de Venustas eau de parfum.

In the room spray (the scent of which also comes in a candle, still available on the website) the balsamic tones which dominate are enhanced by a sensual and full-bodied musk that seeps through and takes the upper hand soon; they have a way of inducing thoughts of adventure and unbridled passions but the incense keeps things grounded. In the grander scheme of things I know I'm an armchair climber of Everest and not a literal one. But there's no shame in that.

The (Unending) Rise of Candy-Sweet Perfumes...and Some Salty Solace

I was consulted as a perfume expert
(alongside Michael Edwards no less) by Wendy Kaur writing for the NUVO Magazine on the no-showing-signs-of-abatting trend of gourmand fragrances.

You know the ones...the ones which make your salivate and get your teeth scared at the same breath. Caramel...chocolate...almond...honey...lots of dazzle for your palate with those.

If interested you can read the entire (not too long) article on this link.