Scents of the Mediterranean: A group project

When Ines of All I Am A Redhead invited me to join this blogfest, I said, yes, of course, sounds fun! But then I hunkered down to write about scents that evoke the Mediterranean, I realized this is a bit harder than I initially thought because I have never actually been to the Mediterranean sea or the most obviously Mediterranean country; Greece. I’ll have to remedy this awful situation sometime soon. But for the time being, please humor me, and work with the Mediterranean of my imagination. I’ll invoke the countries I have traveled to, which are close neighbors to Greece and other parts of the Mediterranean; I have been to Italy and Spain.

From traveling to many countries in Europe, Italy in particular, I have to get this off my chest. One aroma that reminds me of the Mediterranean is Diesel!

And cigarette smoke.

And men who wear buckets of cologne. But you know, that’s ok with me, I would prefer a man to wear too much cologne and pinch my ass once in awhile, it makes a gal feel like she still has it.
Oh, that reminds me of Manolis. Manolis was a beautiful young Greek boy (intern) I had a few years back when I worked at a university in Boston. He had wavy black hair, which he wore on the long side, just above his shoulders, olive skin and the bluest eyes. I mean Blue like the New Mexico sky, it was so terribly distracting. Sigh. Manolis wore Hermes Terre de Hermes so that is etched in my brain as a “Greek Scent.” (A scent for boy toys from the Gods, really). I also think of the most amazing tomatoes. Fresh tomatoes and basil. Lemons and citrus. Grape leaves and rice. The smell of steamed rice. Lamb. Figs. Olives and wine. Jasmine and orange blossom. Eggplant. Moussakka, spanakopita, feta cheese, calamari, tzatziki, baklava and stuffed zucchini. And I can't forget Greek yogurt (thank goodness we have Chobani yogurt in the states now).

For perfumes which remind me of the Mediterranean, here’s my list:
The most obvious scent is probably Diptyque Philosykos. Philosykos holds a special place in my heart because it was my very first niche purchase back in the late 90’s. Philosykos smells like a real fig grove to me, growing on the hillside in Greece. It’s not so much perfume as it is an actual place in time.

Strange Invisible Perfumes Fair Verona is a gorgeous and realistic rendition of jasmine and orange blossom. I stress realistic because I imagine a Grecian breeze carrying this scent up to me while I dine al fresco on my terrace. Wine, cheese, olives and Greek boys in my presence.

Lorenzo Villoresi Dilmun is not often (not often enough!) mentioned orange blossom fragrance which is simply gorgeous. A grove of orange trees growing along an idyllic Mediterranean scene simply must smell like this.

Profumi del Forte Vittoria Appuana is the scent of bronzed bodies sunning themselves by the sea. Vittoria Appuana is the most beautiful “suntan oil” fragrance I have ever come across. Chic bikini clad ladies with bodies to die for strolling along the shores of the Mediterranean smell like this (hey, it’s my imagination).

Carthusia Aria di Capri is the smell of air lightly scented with mimosa, iris, jasmine, peach and bay leaf. It’s a fresh and very low key floral, easy and breezy. Did you see that cheesy romance with Keanu Reeves called A Walk in the Clouds? Well, the air in that movie smelled like Carthusia Aria di Capri. And I not so secretly loved that flick.

Laura Tonatto Oltre is the most realistic smell of salty sea air I have ever come across. Oltre is so true to nature I actually get hints of seaweed and fish, but it is not unpleasant. Oltre smells of your sweater after a day at the shore. Your sweater is still a little damp and sandy but you don’t want to wash it just yet. You want to linger with the scent of relaxation and dreams.
For more Mediterranean musings, head on over to these other blogs, who, like me, are surely aching to get to the Mediterranean pronto (aside from Perfume Shrine and All I Am Redhead who are lucky enough to live there)!


http://bonkersaboutperfume.blogspot.com/

http://scelfleah.blogspot.com/

http://olfactarama.blogspot.com/

http://www.eiderdownpress.com/Perfume_Journal.html

http://thenonblonde.blogspot.com/

http://waftbycarol.blogspot.com/

http://thehortusconclusus.blogspot.com/

http://arosebeyondthethames.blogspot.com/

http://ayalasmellyblog.blogspot.com/

http://www.katiepuckriksmells.com/

http://sonomascent.wordpress.com/

http://journal.illuminatedperfume.com/

http://www.scenthive.com/

http://perfumeshrine.blogspot.com/

http://alliam-aredhead.blogspot.com/

http://underthecupola.blogspot.com/

So what reminds You of the Mediterranean?

Happy August everyone :)

This Week at the Perfume Counter: Diptyque, L'Autre, Patou's Colony, Chanel No. 5

Every once in a while I get sick of shopping for perfume at the mall, or the disadvantages of dealing with idiosyncratic personnel outweigh the elation of walking away with a bottle in my hands. This week I did a lot of online shopping. One of my favorite places to buy from is The Perfume House in Portland. Tracie, the woman who helps me there, knows what she's talking about, and she's always nice to deal with. I have a memory of being there and can see the layout in my head, as well as a slightly hazier recollection of the perfumes I was shown over the course of the scattered ten hours I spent there. Several weeks ago I asked Tracie to set aside whatever they have left from the Patou Ma Collection. I hadn't been very interested back when I visited the store. At the time, I'd never heard of them, and the boxes looked old, so I figured they had spoiled. Since then I've read a lot about these fragrances and know how stupid I was to leave Portland without smelling them. I own Normandie, which I purchased from Perfume House over the phone, and Ma Liberte, which I found in the local Korean-owned store, Memphis Fragrance (a single 1.7 oz. bottle remained; a tester, priced at 20 bucks).

I want Cocktail most of all, but The Perfume House is out. Now that The Perfume Guide has come out, and people read blogs more frequently or avidly, they're curious about some of the older, harder to find perfumes, and they know that The Perfume House might just carry them. Gone is Vol de Nuit. Going is the Ma Collection. Recently I bought one of the last half ounce bottles of Colony they had, in parfum extrait. I'm told it smells like pineapple and leather, like a Bandit drenched in fruit cocktail, though not so much sweet as sun-kissed. That remains to be seen. The package has yet to arrive, and the anticipation isn't exactly delicious. Each day, I hope to find it in the mail. So far, each day, on some level, has therefore been a disappointment. Tracie included samples of Tabac Blonde and Vol de Nuit, warning me that the latter is from an old bottle and I'll need to wait for the top notes to clear out in order to truly appreciate the scent.

From Bigelow Chemists I ordered Diptyque's L'Autre, which seems to stratify the sniffing audience over on Basenotes.net but seems right up my alley, with its overdose on Cumin and coriander, a distinct garam masala bent. In Philadelphia I went to a spa shop which had a limited selection of fragrance, including the Lutens line, Acqua di Parma, and Diptyque. Of Diptyque, they carried Oyedo, Olene, Tam Dao, Philosokos, L'eau, Do Son, and a few others. I'd read about one in the Turin/Sanchez book which intrigued me but I couldn't recall what it was. Something curried or spiced. Tam Dao, based on the name alone, seemed the most logical conclusion, but it didn't smell the way the one I was looking for had been described. I ended up buying L'eau because it smelled close enough, like a clove pomander. I wore it to the premiere of my movie in Philly and nearly sent the cute festival volunteer who picked me up from the hotel to carry me to the theater into coughing fits, though he was polite about it and denied the one had anything to do with the other. One thing I realized from this experience is that, however attractive a guy finds me, my cologne will always put him off, and I'm just not willing to reverse that trend if, as I suspect, it means some form of abstinence (involving perfume, that is; it will inevitably involve sex, I imagine; or, rather, it will not involve it--but I digress...). Like Colony, L'Autre has yet to come, so my vague theories about layering pineapple and curry will continue to go untested for the time being.

Passing through Jonesboro on the way back from my mother's house this weekend, I stopped at a newly christened shopping mall. I found two DVD boxed sets I'd been looking for: one on Deneuve, the other on Delon. It occurred to me that I spend a lot of money, perhaps more than I have, as I handed my card to the guy behind the counter. Are Deneuve and Delon worth it, I wondered. Let's take them home and see!

I moved on to the department store, heading over to the Chanel counter. The young woman working there was startlingly good at what she did. It caught me off guard and I started chewing my gum so vigorously she must have been plotting her escape route. I was trying to decided whether to get Chanel No. 5 again. I play out this particular drama frequently. What do I want with Chanel No. 5? I ask myself. Chanel No. 5 is nice, to be sure, and the aldehydes are something else, but I have...a lot of perfume and, well, I mean, how much more do I need? And yet. I'd never smelled No. 5 in parfum extrait, and here the delicate boxes were, tiny white squares with the Chanel logo stamped on them. God, you've got a problem, I told myself as it became clear that she was moving toward a sale and I toward a purchase. I applaud you for buying extrait, she said, before I'd said I intended to. She explained the difference between the three concentrations, and described Chanel's private supply of rose and ylang ylang or whatever. She seemed as interested in it all as I was. I know! I imagined saying. Let's take a field trip there! We'll frolic in, like, ylang ylang all day and such.

She's been working for Chanel for two years. She came from San Diego, and I have no idea why she would migrate to Jonesboro, Arkansas, of all places, where the summer heat makes perfume a losing battle. It can't take long to whiz through a bottle of No. 5 in this weather. Yet she looked immaculately put together, and so friendly, as if she'd never had to deal with flop sweat, or leave cologne in her car while she went into the mall to get her fix. She really seemed to have absorbed all her training. She knew just about everything you would want her to know, and what she didn't know she somehow made you forget having asked. She made you want to work at the Chanel counter, just so you could be that happy and informed and, I don't know, stand there smelling the testers all day. We do employ men, she said, though she added: Maybe not in Jonesboro, but we do.

I bought my quarter ounce and went on my way, until I got a ways down the hall and I remembered the whole ordeal with Chanel on Rodeo, how my Cuir de Russie had arrived in the mail looking less than composed, and I turned around, because if anyone knew how to do things at Chanel, if anyone could make it all better, it had to be her. I returned to the Chanel counter and told her all about my horrible, traumatizing experience. The label was all runny! I sobbed. The cap was broken and the perfume had leaked out into the packaging. She told me to call Chanel in Beverly Hills. If they don't take care of it, she said, call me, and I will. You bought a luxury item and it should arrive like one. What Chanel needs, I thought as I walked away, is someone like her wrapping their shipments.

I've been smelling No. 5 for the last few days, and what fascinates me most about it is how infrequently people talk about the vetiver, which totally, if almost subliminally, transforms the rose/ylang ylang accord, providing a classic masculine foundation to a classic feminine perfume.

A Tale of Four Figs: Comparison and review of 4 fig fragrances

Fig fragrances have been a big trendy craze in perfumery for more than a decade now. It’s not often that I think there’s good reason for a big, trendy craze, but with fig fragrances, I do.

I’ve never been to Greece, but like any perfume whose aroma transports me, fig fragrances take me to an idyllic country scene, where I picnic under a shady tree overlooking a fig vineyard. Of course, since its Greece, I’m picnicking on olives, feta cheese and grape leaves with a bottle of good wine.

The first fig fragrance I ever tried was Diptyque Philosykos. Philosykos is a gorgeously green, leafy and woody fig scent. It’s as if Diptyque put the whole fig tree in a bottle, leaves, twigs, bark and fruit. Philosykos is very dry and yet obviously the story of a fruit. The lasting power is excellent and the sillage is just enough to make you smell nice but not obnoxious.

Next up is Jo Malone’s Wild Fig & Cassis which is also a gorgeous fig fragrance. Jo Malone’s fig is very ‘figgy’ and by that I mean fruity. It makes me think of fig jam in a bowl surrounded by leaves and greenery. Jo Malone’s fig is sweet and supposedly combined with cassis which is blackcurrant, a tart purple berry. Fig & cassis is a lovely combination, to my nose it’s both sweet and tart, a perfect combination. Jo Malone’s fig fragrance is nicely wearable; it’s what I imagine to be the most mainstream fig scent of those that I’ve smelled. The lasting power is also good, about 4-5 hours.

L’Artisan Premier Figuer Extreme was created in 2003, nearly a decade after the original non-Extreme formulation. I’ve never smelt the original, because I only purchase L’Artisan in the extreme formulations since L’Artisan seems to last barely a nanosecond otherwise. Premier Figuer Extreme is a very soft, milky, creamy, coconut fig. It’s not very green nor woody, it’s closer to a gourmand-ish fig scent. I wrote “ish” very specifically because it’s not a gourmand, it just verges on becoming one. There is a slight green leafiness and a smidgen of sandalwood to keep the “milky figgy” note interesting. This is a very soft and pretty scent, its passive when compared to what I might call Philosykos’ aggressive fig scent. Premier Figuer Extreme is complex when I compare it to the other fig scents I have, it’s just that it doesn’t scream “fig!” to me, so when I reach for a fig scent, I hardly ever reach for this one. Like most L’Artisans, the lasting power is never enough, perhaps 2 hours, and the sillage is non-existent.

Miller Harris Figue Amere is an oddball fig scent. There are several Miller Harris perfumes that I simply adore and this is not one of them. The name ‘Figue Amere’ is supposed to translate into ‘salty fig.’ Salty figs might be interesting, if it smelled like salty figs. To me, Figue Amere smells like chocolate with a teensy bit of fig if I really really focus on finding that fig note. Figue Amere is very sweet and I don’t detect a green or woody note at all.

My favorite fig scent is Diptyque Philosykos. Perhaps it’s because it was the first fig fragrance I tried; the one that taught me what a fig tree is ‘supposed’ to smell like. I also rather like Jo Malone’s Wild Fig & Cassis if I’m in the mood for something sweet. Philosykos is verdant, woody, strong and seems to scream “I am a fig tree, hear me roar!” I would like to sample L’Artisan’s original Premier Figuer, but I don’t imagine I’ll ever buy a bottle of it, due to the notorious lack of staying power of L’Artisan cologne. For the cost of L’Artisan perfume, I find the lack of tenacity to be unacceptable. If it were a $50 bottle, I wouldn’t judge it so harshly and I’d happily reapply, but since it’s pricey, I’m a tough critic.