Frédéric Malle Carnal Flower: The one thing more beloved to furry bumblebees than narcissus!

CAVEAT PERFUMISTA

They will chase you down!!!!!!!

SOTD of a Wood Chopper? Une Rose

Wood has turned out to be of unexpected significance during my epic stay in New Zealand. I recently returned to the crib after having spent six weeks off the grid at Cloud 9, a vacation house down the street with only a wood-burning stove as its heat source! I was generously provided with a huge shed of already chopped wood, but eventually I had to wield the ax to make some small pieces with which to start the morning fire. Here's how it all played out, the scent of fresh wood mingling with my SOTD: 

Frédéric Malle Une Rose

The Scent of Freshly Cut Timber

and other reflections on the olfactory facets of travel...

text to follow...

More Pictures of Lily...

Pictures of Lily

After smelling the scent of these gorgeously intoxicating flowers fill the house 

where I am staying near Orange Beach, Alabama, 

I feel compelled to give

Cartier Baiser Volé

 another try!

The Ubiquity of Scent, part 2

part 1

It's been over a week since I last applied perfume. How has she survived? is no
 doubt a question surfacing in some of your minds. And now, at last, for a small confession of sorts, which will come as no surprise to some of you, I am sure: many of my body products are selected specifically for their appealing scent, in addition to their functional benefits. A case in point: Clarins Huile Orchidée Bleue, which, to be perfectly frank, smells a lot better any new perfume I've tried in recent sniffing history. I have mixed this product with argan oil in a dropper bottle, and I put it on my neck and décolleté area every night before retiring.

Did I lie, when I promised not to wear perfume while caring for my mother's beloved pup? No, of course not. I have not opened the perfume sample vials I brought along. They sit inert, untouched, in my suitcase. Still, there's no unscrambling the egg, as Pentagon officials are wont to lament having funded the heinous crimes of warlords all over the planet, under the assumption that "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Well, not exactly. The principle is more like "forced to collaborate with bad or worse, I'll take bad." The fallacy in the argument, of course, is that anyone is ever forced to collaborate with anyone. But that's another completely different story, redolent of nothing but vice. Let's return to something nice.

My skincare regimen happens to afford me the felicitous opportunity to doze off in a beautiful cloud of scent but without having touched a bottle of perfume. I never agreed to forego my skincare regimen, so I did not lie. It's true that I have been noticing that little Jula seems to suffer allergy attacks especially at bedtime, and she does sleep in a bed on the floor close to mine. Causal connection or pure coincidence? I'm not sure, to be honest, because I always take her out for a bathroom session right before going to bed. She invariably breaks out sneezing the moment we step out the door, and her eyes water, too, clear evidence that this was not all just a pretext on the part of my perfume-phobic mom to prevent me from leaving traces of scent behind. Of course her reason, too, is allergies, but my impression is that she is allergic to added chemicals more than the natural stuff.

My dad, too, like Jula, suffers from severe allergies, especially during the spring, when pollen begins to float about the air. I don't recall my mom ever having suffered in the way that my dad always does from hayfever, but I'll take her word for it! There are a few nagging pieces of evidence in the house, however, which make me wonder how much of her aversion to perfume is a matter of taste and how much a matter of physical discomfort. Perhaps it does not matter, since it is her house, so she's allowed to forbid anything she wants within this space, up to and including smoking.

Which brings me to my stepdad's inveterate pipe-smoking habit. A while back, when I reviewed Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, my stepdad was brought to the forefront of the perfume blog reading public (perhaps even immortalized!) as I insisted that he smells exactly the same as the drydown of that perfume. Not his tobacco, but him, as he is literally saturated with the scent. Probably the only time he does not smell like pipe tobacco is right after a shower at the gym--before he makes his way outside to light up a pipe once again.

It's a very pleasant smell to me, and I learned before their departure--to my amusement and satisfaction--that in fact he smokes a vanilla-scented tobacco! I actually love the way it smells and told my mom as much. She exhorted me not to share the news with my stepdad, because it would only reinforce and validate his habit! (Of course, I could not resist.)

Well, at this point in history, as "he" approaches "his" eightieth birthday--I suppose that I could name names, but shouldn't I leave something for the biographers to do?????--I don't think that there's going to be any turning back. And, why, after all? This is a guy who for decades has carried three freshly stoked pipes with him wherever he goes--in addition to a sleeve of loose tobacco. So, yes, I'd say that the word incorrigible applies, unless of course one happens to enjoy the scent, as anyone who appreciates Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille surely would.

Smoking is strictly verboten (auf Deutsch, bitte!) inside the house. However, this humble abode is far from scent free. The hand soap in the upstairs bathroom appears to be one of those triclosan-infused foam generating Soft Soap dispensers. The label has been removed--which is fine with me as the only thing I hate more than plastic containers are plastic containers with their store labels still affixed. I mean, why? Why do I need to know that the Rubbermaid tote in which a serial killer stows the body parts of his victims was made by Rubbermaid? I see this on garbage barrels all over the place. A smooth, monochromatic surface spoiled by an unsightly peel-off label, which no one ever bothered to peel off. When possible, I take the liberty of doing so myself, but touching everyone's trash can is even less appealing than being subject to these omnipresent eyesores. But I digress...

So the Soft Soap--or reasonable facsimile. It is apricot-orange colored and smells very aquatic and calonic. A big "yuck" for me. Not to mention my suspicions about triclosan, which seems to be found in everything these days: hand soap, dish detergent, toothpaste... what????? I was using the orange Soft Soap stuff for the first few days here, as there is no other hand soap in the sink area. Fortunately, at one point I was sufficiently caffeinated to think out of the bottle, so to speak, when I opened the cabinet below, where I espied with relief a bottle of Johnson's Baby Shampoo.

Thankfully, it smells a lot better than triclosan-soaked, artificially orange-colored foam goo, so now I am using that instead. Something about the scent of Johnson's Baby Shampoo is so soothing, perhaps it is tapping into some of my earliest infant memories. Who really knows? What matters now, is that the scent is pleasant enough that I no longer cringe at the prospect of washing my hands. Chez moi, back in Boston, the ready-at-hand bathroom sink soaps are Puig Agua Lavanda and L'Occitane Verveine-scented shea.

Surprise, surprise...




(to be continued)

Report from the Tea Trenches: There are Thousands of Others Like You!

Of late, I've been spending a lot of my online time at Steepster, which is basically the tea lover's analogue to some intersection of Fragrantica, Parfumo, and/or Dnotes. I suppose that since there is no content beyond tea profiles and tea tasting notes (reviews--or comments relating to the same author's previous reviews), the closest comparison would be to Parfumo. 

People who love tea convene at Steepster to share their tea experiences. It's quite clear that some members spend the whole day drinking tea, and writing about drinking tea. So that's a bit different from the online perfume community experience, because few people write more than one review a day, and many people write nothing at all--aside from interacting in the forum boards.

Tea lovers, like perfume lovers, enjoy talking about their recent purchases, their struggle to "contain" their collection, and their desire to expand it at the same time. All of these dynamics are quite familiar to those who have fallen into the bottomless vortex of perfume acquisition, with many of us resolving each January to refrain from buying any more bottles until _____________ (fill in the blank). My favorite resolution is to not buy any new bottles until I have reviewed everything in my house--bottle, decant, and sample. I usually make it a month or more before breaking the resolution. I believe that my record may have been 2013, when I recall having lasted at least through the month of March! 

One relevant difference in this regard between these two obsessions is that tea costs a lot less than perfume and can be consumed several times a day--or all day long! Perfume, on the other hand, is generally worn for several hours, which means that even very prolific reviewers don't write about several different perfumes in a single day. With all of the aromachemicals swirling about in the air these days, that might not even be safe!

What are the other differences between "fumeheads" and "students of tea"? One may be that people who write about their tea experience do not appear to be advocating for the tea. I suppose that one could consider raves to be a form of exhortation and negative remarks a form of dissuasion. But more than anything, people who write about tea seem to be simply sharing their personal experience with a particular brand, style, and harvest of tea. Some people prefer blends; others prefer single-origin leaves. 

There are five major families of tea: black, oolong, green, white, and pu-erh, and different people tend to greatly prefer some of these over others. (In China, yellow tea is considered a sixth major category, but I have never tried it!) Some people prefer herbal infusions, which are not really "tea" at all, for they contain nothing derived from the tea plant, camellia sinensis. In navigating one's way through the vast and kaleidoscopic world of tea and tea-like brews, subjectivity is key: something not to be overcome but to be celebrated. 

No one seems to have any problem with a person who finds jasmine or oolong teas headache-inducing, for example. We are different people, and different people like different things, including different types of tea, in large part as a result of not only physiological factors, but also cultural habits acquired over time. Sencha is the number one tea in Japan. In Argentina, the "national infusion" (defined by law!) is maté. Is one of these beverages better than the other? In a referendum, the Japanese might insist that sencha is superior, but Argentinians would certainly demur!

There are groups of tea lovers who all seem to be patronizing certain very popular tea emporia, many of which would be absolutely unknown to the average person. There are also "controversial" tea providers--above all, Teavana--whose business practices elicit anger and denunciations reminiscent of some of the vitriol slung by perfumistas at houses such as Bond no 9, Creed, and Montale, among others which are beloved by many but scorned by others. In these and many other ways, the social world of tea and the social world of perfume seem to have many parallels.

There are many different levels, qualities, and kinds of tea within each family--indeed, more than there are of all perfumes taken together! People tend to like or dislike certain "genres", just as with perfume. In Japan, there are undoubtedly imbibers of maté (an herbal infusion packing a major punch of caffeine), and in Argentina, there are undoubtedly people who prefer sencha (a green tea with a clean, vegetal taste). 

Some tea drinkers add sugar or honey and cream or lemon to their brew; others regard such "adulteration" as akin to an act of desecration! In all of these matters of taste, the cultural milieu in which we are raised affects us without fully determining our preferences. How else could I, sherapop, who grew up in a perfume-free home, have become so obsessed with perfume? Why am I, sherapop, the only person in my family who even knows what bancha and pu-erh are?

In the school of hot cups, I have found less snobbery and less tendency to indulge in hype as a way of justifying one's tea preferences than I have sometimes witnessed in the spaces frequented by perfumistas. I believe that this may have something to do with the difference in price between fine tea and most niche perfume. If an ordinary (working) person drops $300 on a 50ml bottle of perfume, it had better be good. Very good. 

For the last couple of months, I have purchased little perfume and a ton of tea. Yet each order of tea, often containing up to a dozen--or more!--different varieties ends up costing less than a single bottle of perfume. It occurred to me that since tea is an intrinsically rich olfactory experience, in addition to being a healthy habit, given that the body and mind function best when well-hydrated, more perfumistas should perhaps look to the opportunity for olfactory enrichment readily available to them in what looks from afar to be a modest and mundane cup of tea. 

In truth, once one cuts through the packaging and perfume marketing hype, looking for the olfactory experience within the genie bottle--not the seduction of associating with the sorts of people who use, advocate, and advertise perfume--it becomes obvious that the sniffing in one case (the fumes emanating off the surface of a cup of tea or from a packet of dried leaves) is not really any different than it is in the other (the fumes wafting off one's neck or wrist--or ankles!). 

In fact, my fragrant friends, I have discovered that many of the most annoying aspects of the perfume industry in the twenty-first century--including the removal of natural substances from perfumes and the increasingly abstract and synthetic compositions being fobbed off in kitschy bottles as fine fragrances in their stead--are altogether absent from the world of tea. 

I exhort you, therefore, to consider expanding your olfactory horizons by opening the door to the multifaceted universe of tea, not only for the potable pleasure which it affords, not only for the health benefits which it brings, but also because of the olfactory adventures which await you in the exquisite range of teas carefully cultivated, harvested, roasted, steamed, dried, and blended in endless ways to produce a near infinity of flavors and scents all beckoning you to enjoy!

In Praise of Natural Stuff: Wherein the Flagrant Lies of the IFRA are Exposed

The twenty-first century has seen a massive increase in the power and wealth of chemical companies, especially the big pharmaceutical firms. The proportion of Americans who now dose themselves with "medications" for "ailments" such as anxiety, attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and depression doubled over the course of only a few years. Somewhat remarkably, many parents are now medicating their children, though their brains are obviously in the process of developing—or not.

This will come as a surprise to many, but during the occupations of Afghanistan and Iraq, about 20% of active-duty U.S. soldiers were prescribed (by military physicians) drugs such as Seroquel and many other medications whose primary clinical application is to treat psychosis. Record numbers and percentages of the veterans of the recent U.S. wars have taken their own lives. Is there a connection? Do soldiers sometimes awaken from their artificially induced state of apparent equanimity to discover that they have committed unforgiveable acts? Or perhaps they can no long bear the memories of what they have seen?

One thing is clear: pharmaceuticals are being prescribed more and more in lieu of "talk therapy," and conditions such as attention deficit disorder (ADD) are being diagnosed much more frequently than ever before. A skeptic might reasonably ask whether the advent of the internet is not itself a primary cause of what may appear to be ADD but in fact is a part of the structure of social life in the twenty-first century.

Persons plied with Prozac and the many other selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs) being pushed by their doctors (who often have financial incentives from the pharma firms for doing so) may not care that they are being drugged into conformity. Indeed, they will gladly swallow another pill if any inchoate questions threaten to erupt in their mind. But is this a form of happiness? Or is it just a short-lived escape? Will these people one day awaken to discover that in their quest to "Don't worry, be happy," they have squandered their lives away?

I believe that SSRI bliss is not genuine happiness, because it is not a form of flourishing but an evasion of the human condition. Popping pills induces a sort of stupor, serving the primary function of squelching criticism of the source of discontent. It also suppresses social criticism and artistic creativity. Why do anything, when you can simply cop a buzz instead—and do so legally, with the blessing of your physician?! The last time I had a physical examination, I was given a questionnaire with a battery of queries about my state of satisfaction with my life. I presume that had I expressed dissatisfaction, I would have been offered a pharmaceutical “solution” to my “psychological troubles”. Fortunately, I did not mention to my doctor that I enjoy the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky.

This will seem a stretch to some, but I honestly wonder whether an analogous process might not also be underway in the realm of perfume. We are told by the IFRA that a wide range of natural materials used for thousands of years in the production of perfumes are suddenly "dangerous". They cause varieties of dermatitis—above all, skin contact allergies—and for this reason, the suddenly “evil” substances are being purged from perfume. In their place, "safe" aromachemicals are being used.

The specious reasoning behind this entire pretext for what is diaphanously a ploy to maximize the profit of the ever-expanding multi-conglomerate corporations now controlling most of the formerly independent design houses is so patently fallacious, that it is in some ways difficult to believe that apparently intelligent spokespersons for the IFRA and the big houses can promulgate this charade with a straight face.

If Guerlain Mitsouko was mangled by the “need” to adhere to the new IFRA restrictions, we can now rejoice, some say, that the once-great perfume has been largely restored to its former glory through the ingenious use by Thierry Wasser of a "new molecule" which mimics the precious properties of the original masterpiece while avoiding all of the alleged dangers which led to reformulation in the first place. Huh.

Pierre François-Pascal Guerlain

I, for one, don't buy it, and I know that others do not either. We ask, first, whether these newfangled molecules are really just as good as the natural stuff for which they are said (by their promoters) to serve as surrogates. Single molecules are simple; natural substances are complex and may comprise hundreds of molecules. Second, we ask why in the world we should believe that these surrogates are safe for us at all. New molecules are new. Yes, that's a tautology, but the implications, as far as human health are concerned, are wide-ranging and easy to deduce.

Anyone who has lived long enough to see a couple cycles of the artificial sweeteners—first there were Cyclamates, then Saccharin, then Nutrasweet (aspartame), and now we have the repulsive (to me) Sucralose—is well aware that at their inception the molecules are invariably hailed as "the answer". Cyclamates were demonstrated to be carcinogenic, so Saccharin was substituted in place.

Then Saccharin was found to be dangerous, but synthetic organic chemists had another new "miracle molecule", aspartame, waiting in the wings to fill the void. (Dare I point out that official denunications of the "suddenly hazardous for your health" penultimate synthetic solution never seem to be articulated until a surrogate is ready to launch?) Sure, if you happened to be phenylketonuric, you'd die if you consumed the stuff, but the chance of that happening could be minimized through rigorous FDA-enforced labeling. 

Only later, after the market was awash in Nutrasweet did people start to question the safety of a substance which can induce severe headaches—and much worse in those who consume diet sodas in copious volumes. (One of the breakdown products of this dipeptide is formaldehyde. That's right, as in: used to preserve organs in jars and to fix cadavers.)

No matter: now that Nutrasweet has fallen out of favor we have Sucralose! As sweet, it seems, as licorice root—only a lot less expensive, because it's synthetic, and a lot more neutral, because it's ... abstract! Sucralose is being overdosed in nearly every product in which it appears, leading consumers to believe that their drinks should really be considerably sweeter than ordinary sugar-sweetened drinks. Some who are turned off by the cloying quality have turned to Stevia and other "natural" artificial sweeteners—not a contradiction in terms! There have been critical studies about testicles and Stevia, but, whatever: pass the Prozac and Carpe Diem!

So what's my point? Let's connect the dots. Artificial sweeteners have always been used to replace sugar in products, but mostly drinks. That's right: liquids which people imbibe. It's supposed to be a good deal: one drinks “the same” Coca-Cola, but without cutting into one's recommended daily allowance (RDA) of calories at all. Sure, some people drink diet Coke as they eat candy bars, but that just means that they get to eat more candy! It seems like a great deal, in the short term. Will it be later on down the line?

I believe that the same questions must be entertained by any rational perfume user today. The more abstract perfume becomes, the less confidence one should have in the claims being made by chemical industry advocates—including the IFRA—that these newfangled molecules are better than the real thing. Just as persons who attempt after years to wean themselves off pharmaceutical crutches which they never really needed in the first place may face even worse problems engendered by their very addiction, we should expect that at some point in the future, at least some of these "miracle molecules" being used in perfumery to replace substances which were worn happily and safely by countless people since time immemorial will prove to have much worse effects on the human body than those which they were ostensibly designed to circumvent.

Key word: ostensibly. In truth, I believe, the health pretext is a big fat lie. We live in a liberal society where people are allowed to choose their poisons in nearly every other realm. Does it make any sense, really, that patent paternalism should have infected perfumery but without any federal regulation at all? We are told by the very people attempting to fob off aromachemicals in place of natural substances that the natural substances are dangerous, and the new molecules are safe.

The only reasonable response to such sophistry is for true perfumers to revolt. Those consumers who have recognized the contours of this veil of lies will unite in solidarity with you. We shall stand by your side and continue to buy your wares.

Perfume and the Pre-Socratics 4: Pluralism and Primordial Scents 2012

The Pluralist Response to Parmenides

The time has arrived at last to return to our History of Philosophy Refracted through Perfume. For those new to this series, we have so far covered the thought of pre-Socratic thinkers Thales, Heraclitus, Anaximander and Anaximenes, and we last left off with Parmenides. According to Parmenides, only Being is real, and it is unitary, eternal, and immobile. All of the different things which we take ourselves to perceive in what Parmenides terms the realm of “becoming” are but illusions, including all of the empty perfume bottles which we believe ourselves to have drained.

I imagine that the philosophers who immediately succeeded Parmenides were a bit daunted. How to respond to a theory—All is one—according to which nothing can truly be said? Instead of simply capitulating or wasting precious time sulking in silence, the next group of pre-Socratic philosophers leapt out of the Parmenidean monism box and boldly proclaimed the truth of pluralism. Essentially these critics' position appears to have been that their convictions in the soundness of the Parmenidean arguments against change and motion were less strong than their convictions that things really do change, motion is in fact possible, and perfume bottles can indeed be drained.

Why did the pluralists believe in the reality of motion and change? For the usual reasons: they observed them with their own eyes. Change seemed undeniable to the pluralists, so Parmenides' picture was incomplete, and there must have been something wrong with his arguments, even if they could not pinpoint exactly what it was.

This handy little skeptical parry can always be whipped out when faced with a seemingly insurmountable argument to an unwanted conclusion. At the end of the day, the plausibility of first premises is a matter of subjective intuition. From first premises everything else follows—or not.

“All is one” is certainly true under some possible interpretation—everything is connected in one way or another to everything else, even Versace Blonde and Balmain Balmain—but it does indeed seem as though divisions made and distinctions drawn have much more relevance to the way people actually lead their lives than does an intangible realm of Being. Perhaps we are meandering about in a fog of delusion in the realm of becoming, but that is, in fact, where we are, where we have found ourselves, deeply mired in ignorance. For the time being, then, why not attempt to understand the realm of becoming, the fine distinctions between fine perfumes, and embrace the concepts of change and motion rejected by Parmenides? Even if he is right about the True Nature of Ultimate Reality, what relevance does that have to any person's life?

Moreover, would not a strict adherence in practice to Parmenides' theory lead naturally to one's ruin? If there is no difference between scentedness and unscentedness, or an empty bottle and a full one, then why bother to wear perfume? Why bother even to drink water? Why bother even to budge? While sitting inert, basking in the beatific light of Being, one would simply starve to death. Clearly, following Parmenidean logic consistently would be a short-term endeavor. Perhaps Parmenides is right about pristine Being, but our bodies are firmly ensconced in the gunky goo of becoming, as regrettable as that may be—or not.

These sorts of arguments may sound familiar to readers who have wrestled with the conundrum of the God hypothesis. Many self-proclaimed free-thinking nonbelievers simply deny the relevance of God to their life from day to day. “Nonbelievers” is of course a category which comprises both atheists, who religiously deny the existence of God, and mild-mannered agnostics such as sherapop, who simply withhold judgment on the question, unsure as they are as to what would constitute evidence either way. The music of J.S. Bach? The Holocaust?

I recall that when I was in college a woman living in my dormitory did not study for her final examinations because, she maintained in what appeared to be complete sincerity, if God wanted her to pass, then she would. This is precisely the stance rejected by those who scoff at petty requests directed toward the Almighty for assistance during times of need. Will God really help you with your mortgage?

Even if you find out that you are dying of cancer, is praying actually supposed to help? Well, then why did God let you get cancer in the first place? The answers to such questions offered by believers invariably cast an unflattering light upon the Almighty, and sometimes attain the level of high conspiracy. In fact, the God hypothesis itself may be the most conspiratorial of all possible conspiracy theories! God may have His inscrutable reasons, but of what relevance are they to me?

These sorts of arguments of course go on and on and on, and some smart people end up as atheists in a sort of pendulum effect. Bill Maher's film Religulous (2008) offers a clear illustration of this position, but I must say that I felt that he painted religious people in a crude and derogatory way. In my experience, not all religious people are imbeciles or (vel) ignoramuses. On the contrary, plenty of very smart people have believed in God, including some of the most esteemed Dead White Men in the history of philosophy: Kierkegaard, Leibniz, Kant, Descartes, Pascal, why even Socrates appears to have spoken of “the gods” now and then—though it's never clear with him whether he is speaking ironically or not... My suspicion is that the “voice” to which Socrates alluded was probably his conscience, not the man with the beard. George W. Bush, on the other hand, invoked “voices” to explain some of his more dubious policy decisions, including the 2003 invasion of Iraq in violation of international law—but that's another story.

Empedocles: Love and Strife and the Four Root Elements

The pre-Socratic philosopher Empedocles accepted the Parmenidean arguments about motion and change, but he rejected monism. Empedocles concurred with the monist to end all monists that reality was indeed a plenum, but he maintained that motion and change are possible because things trade places with one another. Rather than there being only one ultimate substrate, Empedocles posited six: four roots—earth, air, fire, and water—and two motions: Love and Strife. Love brings things together; Strife divides them apart.

According to Empedocles, in the beginning of what he called the “world cycle,” the four roots, earth, air, fire, and water, were interwoven together under the action of Love. This harmonic mesh was rent asunder through the motion of Strife, which seems to be related to the proverbial Fall from grace described in a number of religious traditions. Applying this idea to the contemporary world, we see these divisions exacerbated in contemporary wars, which seem to go on and on... Rather than focus on what connects us to one another, we tend to focus upon what divides us, to such an extent that a reunion may often seem beyond our means.

Left to my own devices, I'm not sure how I would have been able to apply Empedocles' theory directly to the case of perfume. However, I have been happily rescued on this front by Monica Miller, Perfume Pharmer, and Primordial Scents 2012, a contemporary perfume project currently underway, which commences precisely from the picture of reality painted by pre-Socratic philosopher Empedocles!

In this project, a group of distinguished independent and all-natural perfumers have come together to create new perfumes based on or inspired by one or more of the basic roots of reality posited by Empedocles: air, earth, fire, and water.

Primordial Scents 2012 affirms the interconnectedness not only of all of the elements serving as the foundation of perfumic creations but also of perfume writers and perfumers. Described as “a salon of scented artists and perfumers,” Primordial Scents 2012 is essentially a celebration of first things, of which we may lose sight in the busy, chaotic jumble of the world of becoming in which we interact day to day.

The inspired creations of the perfumers participating in Primordial Scents 2012 include entire sets of perfumes which focus on one of the basic roots: air, fire, earth, and water. A fifth root, metal, has also been explored, and some of the perfumers have commenced from the concept of ether or space. For those who wish to experience these new creations, sample sets are available at the etsy website. Now that the weather has finally cooled off, I'll be posting reviews of the air and the fire series scents at Il Mondo di Odore.

Here at the salon de parfum, we'll continue to progress through the History of Philosophy Refracted through Perfume and see what the other pre-Socratic pluralists would have had to say about the object of our fascination—or perhaps did, but the content of which has been suppressed by olfactorily benighted scholars in a misguided effort to deny the philosophical importance of perfume and how it can help us better to apprehend the true nature of Reality.

In the meantime, I encourage you to explore some of the sources of perfumic enlightenment which await you at these fine ateliers:

• Amanda Feeley (Escentual Alchemy) - AIR & EARTH
• Ane Walsh (Ane Walsh) - BEACH/WATER
• Anita Kalnay (Flying Colors Natural Perfumes) - SPACE/ETHER
• Anu Prestonia (Anu Essentials)- WATER
• Bruce Bolmes (SMK Fragrances) - METAL
• Dabney Rose (Dabney Rose) - FIRE
• Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (DSH Perfumes / Essence Studio)- ETHER/SPACE
• Emma Leah (Fleurage Perfume Atelier)  - METAL
• Jane Cate (A Wing & A Prayer) - FIRE
• Juan M. Perez (Exotic Island Aromatics)- FIRE& EARTH
• Justine Crane (The Scented Djinn) - EARTH
• Katlyn Breene (Mermade Magickal Arts) -FIRE
• Kedra Hart (Opus Oils) - EARTH
• Kirsten Schilling (Arabesque Aromas) - ETHER/Space
• Laurie Stern (Velvet and Sweet Pea) - AIR
• Lisa Abdul-Quddus (Blossoming Tree Bodycare) - METAL
• Lyn Ayre (Coeur d’Esprit Natural Perfumes ) - ETHER
• Mandy Aftel (Aftelier Perfumes) - WATER
• Maria Mcelroy (Aroma M) and Alexis Karl - FIRE
• Marian Del Vecchio - FIRE 
• Michael Storer (Michael Storer Perfumes)- AIR & EARTH
• Neil Morris (Neil Morris Fragrances) - AIR
• Shelley Waddington (En Voyage Perfumes) - ETHER/SPACE,FIRE & WATER 
• Suzy Larsen (Naked Leaf Perfumes) - AIR
• Tanja Bochnig (April Aromatics) - AIR, EARTH, ETHER

Happy Sniffing!

The Question of BHT: Should I wear as perfume what I would never eat?

"Cool Whip Original is made of water, hydrogenated vegetable oil (including coconut and palm oils), high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, skim milk, light cream and less than 2% sodium caseinate (a milk derivative), natural and artificial flavor, xanthan and guar gums, polysorbate 60, sorbitan monostearate and beta carotene (as a coloring). In some markets, such as Canada and the United States, Cool Whip is available in an aerosol can using nitrous oxide as a propellant." 
(from Wikipedia) 

It's easy to become disenchanted and slide into a sad cynicism when one observes what has happened to the corporatized perfume industry in recent years. There are ridiculously many flankers and trivial launches. Under the guise of IFRA health directives, companies are mangling former masterpieces left and right. At the same time, industry views about how perfumes should be made seem to be changing.

I've noticed of late that many perfume houses which did not formerly list BHT among the ingredients in their perfumes now do. Does this mean that they are only now acknowledging that BHT is an ingredient but it was in fact there before? Or is the ingredient now being added when before it was absent? My suspicion is the latter, as entire houses' line-ups have changed as they have come under the yoke of LVMH and Coty, to offer two examples where I have observed a preponderance of labels boasting BHT among the ingredients of perfumes formerly produced independently.

Let us take the case of the house of Marc Jacobs. Perfumes launched by this house before its takeover by Coty did not list BHT as an ingredient. In the last few years, all of the labels of this house, whether the cocktail splash series, Curacao, Cranberry, and Ginger; earlier splashes such as Fig or Gardenia (also produced in the post-takeover period); or recent launches such as Lola and Bang, have listed BHT among the ingredients. In contrast, there is no BHT listed for pre-takeover perfumes such as the original (eponymous) Marc Jacobs or Essence or Blush, all of which I own and which were produced in connection with Givenchy, according to the boxes.

Another in some ways even more disturbing example is Guerlain. Pre-takeover perfumes, such as the early Aqua Allegoria fragrances, or earlier versions of Shalimar, Samsara, Mitsouko, L'Heure Bleue, among others, did not list BHT among the ingredients. In recent years, all of the Guerlain perfumes (all of the ones I've seen, at any rate), including Eau de Cologne Impériale—which is said to be the original formula from the time of Napoléon—have come to list BHT as an ingredient.

Clearly the head chemists at LVMH and Coty think that adding BHT to perfumes is a good idea. Why else would it be found in virtually all (if not all) of the perfumes now being put out by those companies, while it continues to be absent from the perfumes of most independent and niche houses and all traditional houses I've looked at, which suggests that perfumers were not using BHT before.

I'll offer one further example, the house of Fresh. Pre-takeover Fresh perfumes such as Sugar and Sugar Lemon appear not to have contained BHT. All of the following Fresh perfumes now list BHT among the ingredients: Cannabis Rose, Cannabis Santal, and Hesperides, along with what appear now to be discontinued perfumes such as Strawberry Flowers, Sake, and Pink Jasmine. I do not understand this. The whole image of the Fresh company is that of being, well, fresh and natural. Image and reality appear to be diverging...

It is obviously possible to produce fine perfumes without adding BHT. None of my Hermès boxes (and I have several) lists BHT among the ingredients. Not a single one. (Thank goodness that house held its ground!)

I should perhaps make clear that I am not making a global claim here about the safety of BHT, although I am not at all convinced that it is safe. I realize that its use is currently legal. (Is there a need to list here all of the morally repugnant practices which used to be legal and even a part of longstanding tradition?) Despite the legality of BHT, I certainly avoid it in foodstuffs—as readily as I avoid sucralose, which, although also currently legal, completely and utterly repulses me. The question for me (and anyone relevantly similar) is: given that I do not eat BHT, should I wear it in my perfume?

Now, I am aware that there are probably millions of people who are not troubled in the least by the fact that only one variety of Cheerios does not list BHT among its ingredients, and there are obviously millions of people drinking nonnatural diet sodas, laced variously with sucralose or aspartame (nutrasweet), one of the breakdown products of which is … drumroll … formaldehyde! Obviously, companies want to use whatever they can to maximize profits in their products, and that's fine with me, but I do not have to buy and consume them. Given my general avoidance of BHT in food products—whether justified or not—I am currently toying with the idea of boycotting all BHT-laced perfumes in the future.

I already appear to be leaning that way, as I've noticed in a few cases that purchases which I was on the verge of making I changed my mind about after reading the label and seeing those ugly three letters yet again. I do not think that I am being overly cautious here. The problem has been exacerbated for me as I've been noticing that the quality of these BHT-laden perfumes is degenerating in direct proportion to what I believe to be their potential toxicity.

A case in point: I purchased a tester bottle of La Perla J'aime from an online emporium. This is not an old perfume, having been launched in 2007. Upon arrival, the liquid in the previously unsprayed clear glass bottle was pink. In the ensuing weeks, although the bottle was stored under controlled climate conditions and away from light (in a closed armoire), the liquid turned brown. To be honest, I did not like the perfume from the very beginning: the first time I wore it, I woke up in the middle of the night wanting to wash it off. I had made the purchase scent unsniffed based upon my love of the original La Perla, which appears since its launch to have undergone serial reformulation and now no longer appeals to me nearly as much—evernia prunastri has been replaced by evernia furfuracea, among no doubt other changes.

La Perla gets a makeover--or will it be a lobotomy?

I definitely will not be purchasing a bottle of the latest version of La Perla, which was recently announced, but I will say that at least the house is being decent enough to repackage the perfume so that consumers will have a clue that the perfume inside is actually new. To return to the case at hand, the new perfume which I purchased from the house of La Perla, J'aime, struck me as off from the very beginning, so the change in color merely confirmed my suspicions. It seems obvious to me that there is something seriously wrong with a perfume which goes bad in such a short time, and BHT clearly did not help matters. So why, exactly, is the BHT there?

I eat well, and whenever possible choose natural and organic foods over “stuff” containing long lists of nonsense and the ultimate mystery ingredient, “artificial flavor”. Think about it: it could contain literally anything. All bets are off when you buy a food which lists among its ingredients “artificial flavor”. Why, then, should I be any less exacting when it comes to my perfume, which I apply directly to my skin and breath in as well? I may not be able to find out what all is contained in the mysterious, carefully guarded secret parfum ingredient of a perfume which I purchase, but if the blaring letters BHT are staring back at me as I glance at the box before checking out, I have the option of just saying “No.”

In some ways, it's quite odd that as modern people become more health conscious when it comes to food, perfumes seem to be becoming far less appealing aesthetically, with restrictions placed on many of the key natural ingredients of the masterpieces of the past, and the scents of household products such as dryer sheets and laundry detergent, along with shampoo and conditioner, all now being bottled and sold as perfumes. At the same time, these less aesthetically appealing perfumes may actually be more toxic. In my manifesto on this topic, PEOPLE WITH ALLERGIES DO NOT WEAR PERFUME, I attempted to navigate all of these seeming contradictions.

At the end of the day, given the natural historical trajectory of capitalism and its effects upon profit-driven corporations and those who run them, what has been transpiring in the perfume industry is not really all that surprising to me. In some ways, none of this should be surprising at all. Many of the big players in the perfume industry are also big players in the fashion world, and everyone knows (don't they?) that fashion is much more about business than it is about art.

Our tastes are molded by the fashion companies and magazines, which is the only possible explanation for how ultra-low-rider jeans are nearly the only ones available, with the result that sightings of plumber's cracks and muffin tops have become virtually ubiquitous, not to mention—though I will—the increased display of mid-back tattoos and thongs. So fashion is supposed to be about aesthetics, true believers continue to claim? (I have a very nice plot of land for you near Alligator Alley...)

The clothing designers all begin, of course, as artists, but many at some point along the path to success become much more involved in the management and augmentation of businesses than in the direct creative production of their line and the many objects which come eventually to bear their name. I recently watched Valentino: The Last Emperor (2008), directed by Matt Tyrnauer, which relays the story leading up to Valentino Garavani's retirement. The overall picture painted in the film of this fashion icon is pretty much that of a diva. He gives his teams of dress designing seamstresses a few vague ideas, and they get immediately to work attempting to realize the capricious deliverances of his will in cloth. Meanwhile, Valentino himself (at least as depicted in the film...) seems far more occupied with his various residences and keeping up the appearances of the diva which he has become.

So what is the point? The point is that when design houses are in cahoots with companies such as Sephora, devising schemes by which to persuade people to part with their perfume wallet share there, not somewhere else, then the tastes of those people will indeed be molded so as to reflect what is currently available—which is dictated by the taste makers. An abundance of sweet patchouli perfumes were launched in the post-Angel period, and in the twenty-first century, shampoo and conditioner and sweet laundry scents seem to be holding sway.

What to do? Should we throw our hands up in dismay and spend the best hours of our day placing bids on e-bay for vintage perfumes which may or may not smell the same as they did decades ago? I am happy to be able to say that there is a better way. It may seem that perfumery is a dying art, given all of the developments outlined above, but what we need to do is to recognize that designer-based perfumery is merging with the fashion industry and thereby moving farther and farther away from the original vocation of the perfumer as an olfactory artist. True perfumers do still exist, but they are often working in their own ateliers, not under the yoke of corporate conglomerates.

The solution to the changes in the perfume industry is not to give up hope but to, in a phrase: follow the perfumers. Where have all the perfumers gone? some may ask. Have they all become hacks? The answers to these questions may not be obvious because of our long-engrained habits of believing that the designers are an excellent source of fine perfume. No, my fragrant friends, just as those hoping to imbibe fine wine exhibiting the traditional virtues need to seek out smaller producers, we perfumistas, too, have a much better chance of finding perfume worthy of its name by patronizing the indie and natural perfume houses.

Should we really be supporting the perfume industry's equivalent

of plumber's cracks and muffin tops?

Follow the Perfumers, my Fragrant Friends!