IN PRAISE OF SLOW PERFUME

Over the past two years I’ve worked on several perfume projects that had shorter turnaround times than I’d like. Some of the rush was because I was given very little time (by my standards) to work on a project and some was due to the fact that I tend to juggle multiple tasks and procrastinate on whatever is not extremely urgent. Of course, the result of procrastination is also a short deadline. I don’t think the end products of the work that was done quickly are inferior in any way to those that have taken longer. In fact, one of my favorite fragrances was produced on a short deadline. What I can say, though, is that the end products might have been different if I’d had more time to think about them and tweak them, and I might have savored the creative process more.

I don’t like being rushed by externally imposed deadlines. Just as I enjoy waking up slowly in the morning with my laptop and coffee and just as I enjoy eating things that would be categorized as belonging to the “slow food” movement, I’m a believer in “slow perfume”.  I like to take my time and savor every stage of formulation, tweaking subtly as I go, and thinking about it as I sniff over the course of days, weeks, months, and sometimes even years. It’s happened more than once that a formula just didn’t quite smell the way I wanted it to, so I put it aside. Later, I discovered a new material that was exactly what I needed to finish it up. Working on a strict deadline, I would have settled for something that was not my original vision.

I’ve thought about the concept of slow perfume as I’ve worked on Blackbird, going through a 6-month process that mostly involved thinking about it and testing materials. For me, perfume-making is like writing – most of the work is done consciously or subconsciously in my head before I put fingers to keyboard or do any mixing of materials. Perfume materials need time to blend, so smelling has to be done after they have time to settle in together. The blending may also be a multi-stage process, with each stage taking time to mature before it’s combined with other components.

I don’t know how other perfumers work, but I do know that for most endeavors, having time to think and reflect is important. Good wine, cheese, and some perfume materials are better when aged. Bees painstakingly select the best nectar and collect it to make real honey, not a high-fructose corn syrup imitation. Creative concepts also need time to develop. Products made with love and thought must somehow reflect that slow process. 

[Photos all from Wikimedia]

A TROPICAL FRAGRANCE FOR WINTER

As if I didn’t already have enough to do, I was lured by the siren song of Lyn Ayre’s Tropical Challenge, a blog event in which perfumers are invited to make an all-natural tropical fragrance using no more than “17 ingredients”. I’m always up for a challenge, and little did I know how much of a challenge it would be to make an all-natural perfume using only 17 ingredients. It seems like a lot until you start adding things.

I wanted to avoid all the clichés of piña coladas, mojitos and coconut-scented suntan oil, even though Lyn’s post instructs us to use fruit tinctures, so decided to go for a dark, night-time tropical instead of a sunny day on the beach. It was also an excuse to buy some jasmine, tuberose, and orange-blossom absolutes that I’d been lusting after, as well as a whole array of freeze-dried fruits to experiment with.

My freeze-dried mango tincture has developed nicely, and I’m sure I’ll use that. In the meantime, I’m waiting for some other more exotic freeze-dried fruits to arrive. What I’m not so sure about is where the whole thing will end up. I put together a base of New Caledonian sandalwood absolute, benzoin, ambergris tincture, Bourbon vanilla and hyraceum tincture, and that works pretty well despite my nagging thoughts that it would be improved by tweaking with a whole array of synthetics that I could add if it were not for the “all-natural” and “17-ingredients” restrictions. The heart so far consists of jasmine, tuberose, and osmanthus absolutes, and magnolia flower essential oil. It’s strong and it’s indolic, with all the nuances of blooming and rotting tropical vegetation, which was more or less what I had in mind. Michael reacted badly to it both times I tested it, saying it smells like “an old lady’s perfume”. I don’t know whether this is a good or bad sign, but it does tell me that the mix has excellent sillage and that the fruit and other lighter notes will help balance it in the end.

Whatever it turns out to be, I’ve decided to call it “Tropic of Capricorn” in honor of the theme and the astrological season when it was created. I’m sure Henry Miller wouldn’t mind. In fact, he wrote, “I wanted something purely terrestrial and absolutely divested of idea. … I wanted the dark fecundity of nature, the deep well of the womb, silence, or else the lapping of the black waters of death. …To be of night so frighteningly silent, so utterly incomprehensible and eloquent at the same time. Never more to speak or to listen or to think.” In fact, this passage somewhat expresses what I’m trying to do in this perfume – create an aura of tropical night redolent with the scent of exuberant, blooming life, quick death, and the rebirth that springs out just as quickly from the dead flowers, something sensed at a level that is below conscious thought. 

[Orchid painting by MJ Heade, 1872; Jungle painting modified from H Rousseau, 1906; Jungle pond photo from Wikimedia] 

SWEAT AND THE OSMANTHORCHID ACCORD

Written Friday afternoon, 8/17: This afternoon when I ran it was the first time in ages that I’ve really sweat. The temperature was over 90F (32C) and the humidity was relatively high (65% - I looked it up), just pushing over the threshold for really getting soaked in sweat when exercising. The sun was shining and there was heat radiating up from the asphalt. As I sit here writing this, the sweat is running down every part of my body like rivers. My shorts and tank top are soaked. I love it! Of course I’m looking forward to a nice shower at some point, but right now I’m just loving the feel of it being summer. We have so little warm weather here that it’s a novelty, just like fog and rain in the desert.

Before I went running I was working on a new floral accord for a fragrance in progress. It’s going to have a very earthy base with a floral heart, but no roses, carnations, or standard “white flowers”. I wanted the new accord to be a hybrid between a generic orchid base and osmanthus, so I’d been poring over chemical analyses of weird orchid species’ headspaces and osmanthus flowers fresh, picked, in concrete, and in absolute, trying to identify the main players common to all of them. I had a basic orchid-ish accord already, the sort of just-at-the-corner-of-your consciousness scent that would belong to one of those legions of non-showy orchids like the one in the photo. This afternoon I added the first osmanthus framework. When I put a dab of the mix on my skin it was way too strong and “unmelded” at first, but as it dried down, I smelled the possibilities. About an hour into the drydown I went for my run. By that point I was thrilled because I could smell the peachy note that’s in osmanthus, with no peachy stuff having been added. It blew my mind to think that there are so many pathways to the same olfactory experience. After sweating enough to wash away just about anything, the scent is still on my skin. So far so good!  …

Written today, 8/18: Later on that evening when I went up to my “lab”, the room was full of the flowery, peachy sillage of my experiment. I still have a lot of tweaking to do, but I think I have basically what I want. I applied some more this morning, and it's mellower than it was yesterday. It still starts out way too strong, but it's a concentrate, after all. It's back to the usual cool and cloudy weather, so I'll get to experience it in a very different context. 

[Desert dunes photo from Wikimedia. The Dactylorrhiza fuchsii grows in my garden.]

IN THE END, IT’S ALL MUSK

Nearly every day I try a sample of someone else’s perfume, sometimes multiple perfumes in one day. Although I don’t write about them publicly, I do try them at times when they won’t interfere with my own work.

No matter how they start out, it seems like in the end what’s left more often than not is musk. Usually it’s a mixed bouquet of synthetic “white” musks, and much less often some synthetic quasi-musk like ambroxan. Actually, if there are musks in a perfume I can usually smell them as top notes, just as I can smell sandalwood or synthetic ambery-woody bases as a top note, so I know how it will end right from the beginning. Occasionally the musks remain hidden until somewhere well into the drydown. But in the end, there’s musk. If nothing else, it’s tenacious.

Don’t get me wrong, I like musk as much as the next person, maybe more. I just wish that more perfumes dried down to something a little different, or at least that the standard white musk mixture was combined with other tenacious elements for interest. 

I use musks, including all sorts of synthetic “clean” musks, synthetic reconstructions of not-so-clean animal musks, and even “botanical musk”, aka ambrette. I usually don’t use a lot, and quite a few of my perfumes contain no musks at all. Whipping up a nice white musk base is the simplest thing in the world and it’s a sure-fire way to have a long-lasting fragrance that smells good and smells conventional. It’s sort of like using frozen pie crusts to make pies. Pour in your canned fruity-floral filling and  … voila! … a professional-smelling product. Making a base without the standard musk medley is more of a challenge, but it’s worth it when the perfume dries down to something a little different, even though it may be on the weird side and not quite as tenacious.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that using a white musk base is a cop-out, because there are many wonderful perfumes that need a white musk base in order to work. It’s just that it seems overused in both mainstream and niche fragrances. 

[Painting of woman in white by Guillaume Seignac, early 1920s; pie photo from Wikimedia]

NEW PERFUME MATERIALS!

Just when I thought I had most everything I needed to make perfume, my world shifted again with some new discoveries. What set it all off was a package from a fellow perfumer that came in this afternoon’s mail, containing five new materials that I bought from him and 23 (!) samples of other materials, most of which I haven’t tried. It’s going to take me a while to go through the 23 samples, but one of the things that I bought is going into at least one version of the Devil Scent, both Dev and Lil Mod 2. If I keep discovering new materials, I’ll never get those perfumes finished!

The new babies are all synthetics with names that probably wouldn’t ring a bell with anyone, so I’m not sure how much to describe them here except to say that one is an animalic scent that’s a different version of the ones I already have. Another is a wonderful floral base that I’ve already put in Lil 2. I’m trying to keep one version of Dev purely natural, so I have to resist the temptation to tweak it with synthetics.

For some reason, Lil continues to prove a much easier subject than Dev. It’s technically easy to make a bright floral, and maybe I’m just not as emotionally invested in a perfume for the evil underbelly of femininity as I am for a loveable, leather-clad rocker. I have to admit it - I care very much for Dev. I want his perfumes to be as dark and assertive as possible, and nothing is good enough. I keep tweaking and tweaking, and am never satisfied. The labdanum keeps getting lost in everything else, not appearing until the late drydown. The leather doesn’t play nicely with the rest of the fragrance. I’m trying to use davana and finding that a tiny bit goes more than a long way.

The one promising thing is that the all-natural Dev has excellent longevity. I used a tiny bit of real ambergris tincture in it, and it must have magical fixative properties because I can still smell the base on my skin 24 hours later. I haven’t added the cinnamon leaf yet, because I’m trying to get the base right, but I think that getting some middle and top notes added to the mix is going to make a big difference. I’m still shooting for having three versions of Dev ready by the end of March.

MORE DEVIL SCENTS

I know everyone is anxious to see what the Devil Scent Project comes up with, but perfumes aren’t made overnight, especially when the perfumer has a day job and several others jobs besides and has been spending a lot of her free time, such as it is, reading Quantum Demonology. After I got back from my latest trip, I was busy packing and shipping orchid plants to places that had been too cold to ship to all winter, slogging through the usual end-of quarter marathon of work, and trying to get the momentum going on a new theatre production.

I’m not caught up yet, and never will be, but I did find time tonight to get back up in the lab and test the things I mixed up before I left town. I was surprised to find that they’re not half bad! Lil has mellowed over the past couple of weeks, and is starting to have the sharp edge and kewda-passionfruit note that I was going for. It still needs a lot more sharpening and tweaking, but I think it’ll be ready to send a prototype to Tarleisio soon.

The real surprise was Dev’s base that I mixed up before I left. It’s mellowed into a real fragrance that could almost stand on its own. Instead of hijacking the composition, the giant arborvitae has decided to cooperate and lend a unique note to the opening. As it dries down, the animalic notes show up, but are no longer stinky. The incense is there, too. I’m wearing it as I type and actually loving it!

Before trying the well-rested Dev 1, which I thought I would end up scrapping, I had started working on another Dev base (Dev 2). It contains four - count ‘em – 4 different variations on labdanum (You can never have too much labdanum!) Along with the labdanum fest these's immortelle absolute, balsams, and some animalic notes. I’m going to add some more things in a day or two when I have time and my nose is fresh.

I think I may make a Dev 3 variation that has a lot of leather in it. It will have labdanum too, of course, but in a duet with the leather, not as the lead. I may even get some samples shipped off to Tarleisio by the first of April.

THE MAKING OF SIAM PROUN

I sometimes write about the process of making specific perfumes, but there are a good many in my current production that I have only mentioned in passing. When I learned yesterday that Siam Proun was given one of Cafleurebon’s “Best of 2011” awards, I realized that it was time to write about it.

When I was a young teenager my family lived in Provence, in a lovely Mediterranean-style villa with a terraced garden around it. The property went by the name “Siam Proun”, which in Provencal means “we are sufficient”. I’m not sure where the name came from, but it has stuck with me. Living in the south of France was one of my mother’s long-held dreams, and Siam Proun represented the realization of it. That period was probably one of the happiest times of her life.

I’ll never forget the journey south from Switzerland, where the whole family had been living, from the bleak cold of November on Lac Leman to the relative warmth and lushness of the Mediterranean. We all felt like we had arrived in heaven. I remember breathing the warm, friendly air filled with the scent of rosemary, thyme, lavender, heather, and other greenery. The garden was pretty much filled with these herbs, as well as an umbrella pine and a couple of small citrus trees, probably lemon. Next door was a small orchard of fig trees whose trunks were always covered by a hoard of hungry escargots.

This past year when my mother was very ill I wanted to do something special for her, so I made a perfume just for her, and called it Siam Proun. I used a thick, woody, oriental-type amber base to provide warmth and topped it off with the scents of Provence - orange blossoms, heather, lavender, rosemary, thyme, and a touch of some other things like rose and yuzu, just to round it out. It turns out that this particular formula is one that needs to age for a while before everything is blended properly, and I didn’t realize how good it was until I smelled it much later, after it had been sitting for a while. In particular, the lavender combines with the patchouli in the base to produce a bright, sharp note that Michelyn on Cafleurebon described as “luminous”. I’ll go with that term.

I think Siam Proun has probably turned out to be an oriental for people who generally prefer green perfumes, and maybe a green perfume for those who usually prefer orientals. Tarleisio wrote a beautiful review of it on her blog before it was even officially released. I can easily see how Siam Proun could evoke “the path to Mount Meru where the world began, a frieze of beautiful temple dancers, dancing for the glory of Vishnu just above the milky ocean”. For me, so many years ago, a villa in the Alpes-Maritimes was the center of the universe, a magical, mythical mountain covered with cork oaks, flowers, and herbs just above the sparkling indigo blue and turquoise sea, a place that can only be revisited in dreams or perfume-induced fantasies. I like to think that my mother was able to revisit Siam Proun, Mount Meru, and everywhere else that her dreams took her in the last months of her life, and that the perfume helped facilitate these visits.

Finally, I’d like to thank Michelyn and Cafleurebon for honoring Siam Proun with their recognition. I can't think of a better way to end 2011.

CREATING PERFUMES: FROM IMAGE TO BOTTLE

Or how to get from here ...
Occasionally someone asks me how I go about creating a new perfume, or there’s a discussion in one of the perfumers’ chat groups about the best way to create one. It seems there are as many ways to go about the process as there are perfumers. Some people just mess around randomly hoping for a good combination. Others go about it in a compulsive, methodical way, trying all possible combinations in different stereotyped ratios as laid out in the old-fashioned Carles method. I guess I fall somewhere in the middle of the continuum.

I don't do the equivalent of doodling or noodling hoping for inspiration. I always start out with a concept - a place, an event, an experience, a person, an odd flower, or something. The concept includes a mental "picture" of the scent that I want to create. I'll jot down a list of the notes, and often the specific materials that I think would go into creating the scent. I don't write down proportions at this point, although I have a fairly good idea of what they should be, eliminating the need to go through a zillion iterations of ratios. I really don't work top-down or bottom-up, I work on it all in parallel. At this point what I have is essentially a fairly detailed brief to myself. If I need an accord that I don't have, I'll make it first before I start formulating. This can take a while, because it too has a “picture” that I have to match.

When I start formulating the perfume itself, I often still do something that I did as a beginner. I mix the top (i.e., most volatile materials) middle (moderately volatile) and base (least volatile) separately, to the extent that this is possible. That way I get a rough sample of what will be left when the top and middle notes have faded, and what the initial impression will be right out of the bottle before much of the mid and base kick in. Of course this isn't the whole story since some base and mid note materials will contribute immediately, and some top notes will linger. I use a lot of naturals and some accords that have their own complete set of top/mid/base notes, so it's often hard to fit them in one of the standard slots. Nevertheless, this exercise helps me imagine them together with all of their components. At this point I tweak proportions, add things or decide to leave things out, and when I'm satisfied with the resulting building blocks I combine them and let them sit for a while to see how they interact, hoping the final product will be close to my initial “picture”.

A lot can happen during the honeymoon period as the materials adjust to each other. Sometimes the result is good, sometimes it's not so good. If there's something missing or in need of adjustment, I do it and let it sit again. All through the process I write things down by hand in a notebook, crossing out and modifying as I go. I know I’m a luddite in this respect, but I’ve had enough computer crashes in my lifetime to be wary of saving valuable information on a hard drive. By the end the page(s) usually look pretty messy, but when the tweaking is all over I transfer the final formula to an electronic document that I print out and save in my hard-copy formula “bible”.

...to here.

Sometimes mistakes can have lucky consequences, so I would never discard something because I had measured wrong or picked up the wrong bottle by mistake, which I’ve done a few times. Serendipity is important in every art form (and in science, too), but it seems to be especially important in perfumery. That’s why I don’t think anyone can ever make perfume in a completely rational, methodical way.

THE NEW FRAGRANCES: CAFÉ V

The last of the new fragrances was Café V, presented in two different versions. I learned something very interesting from the testing of these two, and will take the fragrance back to the drawing board for adjustments. This is the last super-long post for a while, I promise!

GAIL
Café V#1
Initial: Sweet tobacco smoke and something like carnauba wax
5 minutes: Vanilla, tea and cocoa. The carnauba wax is still strong.
15 minutes: The waxy edge is blending with the vanilla and cocoa. The smoke is still evident.
30 minutes: The carnauba wax is still around but becoming less prominent. Some warm woody smells.
50 minutes: Cinnamon and some other spices appearing as wax dissipates.
2 hours: Wood, spices, vanilla. The wax is just about gone.
6 hours: Dries down to a familiar combination of nutmeg, vanilla, and spices.
General comments: The most memorable impression I had of Café V #1 was the odor of carnauba wax. After 2 hours this scent shifted from specifically carnauba wax to just a general “waxy” smell which lasted until about 4 hours into the test. At 6 hours there was still a hint of wax mixed with a distinctive Olympic Orchids blend of nutmeg, vanilla, etc. While I like the smell of carnauba wax I wouldn’t want to wear it as a personal fragrance. I like this scent from about 50 minutes to the end.

Café V #2
Initial: Sweet tobacco smoke, some spices and carnauba wax (less penetrating than in #1)
5 minutes: More spice, even less carnauba wax
15 minutes: Vanilla, cocoa, spice, generic wax
30 minutes: Less of an edge all around than #1. Vanilla, wax, pice, cocoa
1 hour: More vanilla. Some leather.
2 hours: Light vanilla, leather, very light cinnamon and spice.
6 hours: Light vanilla and leather. Very light combination spice. Familiar Olympic Orchid drydown like #1.
General comments: When I read your notes I couldn’t believe that I had totally missed the coffee element in both of the versions. #2 is creamier, less edgy than #1. I also don’t get as much of the carnauba wax in the opening of #2. #2 is easier for me to wear but it has less personality than #1.

CELINA
Cafe 1 seems to be little bit more woody and the cocoa is toned down compared to version 2. I don't know if that reflects the concentrations or version 2 has different notes that are enhancing the cocoa. Maybe that could be explained by the presence of the creamy note. In version 2 the cocoa is more rounded and sweeter.

Cafe 1 feels more quiet , woody and leathery and the cocoa is showing more its dark and earthy side. It feels the other notes are surrounding the leather.
Version 2 somehow feels more friendly and rounded. After reading the composition I can definitely see that even if "the creamy note" is hard to define, still helps that first impression of friendliness; the cocoa is more chocolate-y but still dark, the leather is still there, but the coffee note comes out more defined. However, all notes blend together, they feel like being part of the same fragrance. They play the same melody.

In version 1 the coffee is more roasted and less smoky, it blends in the leathery tone, in Vesion 2 the coffee is smoky but little bit more defined and rounded with a gourmand feeling. Foody gourmand and not sweet gourmand.

If I have to choose that would be difficult. Ver 2 is little bit more accessible and also more loud, couple of notes more accentuated. Ver 1 feels more toned down, without that gourmandisime tone, feels more dry and distant, but distant in an inviting way. It makes you want to go back to get a bit more, like you are not satisfied enough. It makes you wonder.

Ver 2 is more about the coffee. Everything blends into it. After a sniff it my brain is able to remember the fragrance.

Somehow ver1 is hard to catch and describe. It feels like a fragrance with a multitude of faces. Coffee and leather and woody and smoky.

I have a hard time deciding what I like more.

LAURIE BROWN
Café V version 1- It opens with cinnamon, and leather, and sweetness. Too much leather for my taste. I have a problem with leather scents- even though I know darn well they have other things in them, leather tends to be all I can smell. Mike sent me a sample of one he made (the Paris Metro one) that had leather and flowers, and all I could smell was leather. I’ve tried to use leather myself, and finally gave up when I had it diluted to 1% (using leather accord from TGSC) and it was still overpowering. But, at least, with yours, after about a half hour the leather fades a bit and it gets sweeter. But I’m afraid I don’t smell it as very complex, even though I can see from your notes it is.

Café V version 2- okay, I love this one! It opens with a cinnamon bun hot out of the oven, warm and spicy. Five minutes in the leather steps forward, but the scent is still spicy, not skanky. The cinnamon fades a bit and lets the other spices out. The creamy note is defiantly noticeable- it kept making me think of ice cream. I love creamy. Never did smell the coffee. This one lasts a good amount of time on me; the balsam and myrrh and leather really hang in there- I can still faintly smell it after over six hours. AND the leather, though very apparent, never dominates. I was able to enjoy it rather than cringing from it! It would have never occurred to me to put leather and gourmand together, but it WORKS. Wonderfully.

EdC
Cafe V [1 and 2] both seem like fougeres with different top notes - something green in the #1 and incense in the #2. The fougere part of each has something that smells industrial to me, sort of like 3 in 1 Oil. I like it! I think I may have suggested using it in someone's discussion of what a steam punk perfume would be. It's not dominant.

I’ve tried going from one sample to the next (keeping them in different rooms). I found the Café V #1 to be slightly sweeter and the Café V #2 to be slightly more woody. I hope this helps with your planning, but it’s probably better if not too many people share my association of machine oil with myrrh. Or you could call it steam punk and put some sort of gothic Dickensian label on the bottle.

ROBERT
Café V: Unfortunately, both these variants are not my cup of tea (or should I say, coffee). There is a note in both these scents - also very dominant in Kyphi and somewhat less noticeable in Bay Rum - that I don't care for. And I can't put my finger on what it is! Mind you, while I LOVE coffee, I have yet to find a fragrance that contains coffee that I like - with the exception of Jean Laporte's L'Eau de Navigateur where the very heavy spices seem to enhance the coffee note. I am sure that you will get positive responses from your other testers on both these scents, but I would have felt like a hypocrite if I didn't give my honest opinion. Incidentally I have been wearing and enjoying your three other samples that you sent to me. I even tried mixing a very small amount of the Salamanca with some Rose Chypre and the result was very beautiful - at least to me.

JOAN ELAINE
Cafe V 1
First impression: creamy mocha w/ a touch of bitter coffee
Vetiver and patchouli? violet leaf?
2nd testing, one week later: a nutty, oily note, walnut-like. Citrus - peel, not juice. 5 min. in, there seems to be a note that's hovering above, all-spice or nutmeg, mace? Feels discordant to me.
20 min in: notes smell more harmonious at this point, but something still seems to be hovering.
35 min. in: I think I have identified the hovering smell - it's not "discordant", it smells like a spice I don't like: cardamom. I think that's the nutty, oily smell too.
I like the creamy/bitter contrast.
On paper, it smells delicious, like chai without the black tea. Unfortunately for me, it smells flat and oily on my skin!
cafe V 2
Orange mocha!
This doesn't smell creamy, it smells citrusy - more orange, bitter coffee and cardamom. I prefer this blend to no.1.
On paper, it's quite juicy and vibrant, chocolate-y, rosy, a little spicy. Patchouli, rose, nutmeg? It smells wonderful.
For some reason, it smells flat on my skin- again, that nutty, oily smell. However, 10 minutes in, it starts to pop up - spicy coffee.
Pleasant and cozy, it would make a beautiful scent for Autumn.

DIANA
Cafe V #1 - No medicinal opening here, dry and less sweet or creamy so not really gourmand, though still foodie in a way. Like the smell of fresh roasted coffee beans instead of a coffee drink or flavored food. It's less chocolate-y and more like a good shot of espresso from beans with a touch of coffee to them. It's less aggressive than two, and the sillage is smaller, but I like it very much. I probably prefer #1 to #2, which surprised me because I normally love sweet foodie, but this really spoke to me.

Cafe V #2 - I get an almost medicinal sweetness in the immediate opening here, like a combination of dry bitter chocolate and moss. Almost liqueur-like, like one made of coconut and chocolate liqueur. I definitely get the leather, like new fresh leather, newly treated for commercial use. Veeery foodie, particularly next to #1. The whole thing in my mind is like an exhibit in a modern art exhibit: a coffee cream filled dark chocolate petit four made, not from food, but made entirely of different colors, textures, and ages of leathers.

INES
I really am sorry to say that something in those two samples doesn't work well with my stomach. I'm guessing the leather-cardamom combination. That doesn't happen often, but recently it also happened with DSH Cuir et champignon.
Of the two, I think version 1 is lighter on my stomach. It smells to me rocky, sweetly, lightly coffe-ish and smoky.

Number two has a lightly meaty quality I couldn't place where I was getting it from the notes and seemed to me a bit stronger version of 1. I don't understand the idea of meaty smokiness but it just doesn't suit me, so if I were you, I'd take my thoughts on these 2 out of the equation.
----------------------

All of the comments were insightful and fun to read, and there were two comments that I was particularly struck by - the characterization of Café V as “steampunk” and the one that described it as a modern art rendition of a petit four made entirely of leather. Now that I think about it, a big industrial espresso machine does have a steampunk look, so it's right in keeping with the theme. And I love the idea of the leather sculpture.

Poetic descriptions aside, the first and most important thing that I discovered from these reviews is that a lot of people intensely dislike cardamom. This comes as a little bit of a surprise to me, since it’s one of my favorite spices. The first adjustment will probably be to either back off a lot with the cardamom or omit it entirely. The second thing - not a surprise - was that the coffee needs to be bumped up. The addition of the creamy note seems to be a toss-up. Some like it, others prefer the version without it.

Some impressions are all over the map - carnauba wax, 3-in-1 oil, meat, orange, etc. I don’t worry too much about these outliers, since everybody comes up with their own odd take on things. What I do worry about is several people mentioning that the cardamom was overpowering and the coffee hardly noticeable. I think the chocolate needs bumping up, too.

The bottom line seems to be that this is worth pursuing, but will require some more work to make it appealing to the majority of people.

[All images, including the anonymous painting, are from Wikimedia]

SAVING ALYSSUM

This perfume that combines burning cedar wood and sweet alyssum flowers has turned out to be the most difficult perfumery task I’ve tackled yet. Initially, it was easy to come up with the various accords of cedar wood, campfire smoke and the flower itself, but putting them together and smoothing out the whole composition is another matter.

A month or two ago I decided to try putting the accords together, but made the mistake of tweaking every one of them first. I decided to add benzoin, Nootka tree oil, and a few other things to the cedar accord, only to find that the changes caused the whole thing to degenerate into dusty pencil shavings. Because Alyssum had mentioned that she’d like some “airy” top notes, I tried adding some ozonic-type notes to the flower accord, only to find that the interaction created an unpleasant sensation of cat-piss. Sometimes it’s better to leave well enough alone.

I went back to the drawing board and re-created both of the ruined accords, and am now letting them mellow for a little while before starting the real mixing. I used a different “airy” aroma chemical in the flower accord and so far it seems to be working OK. I bumped up the aromatic aspect of the cedar wood a little. I think both will be improved versions of the original.

Last night I tried mixing everything together on my skin to get a rough idea of what was going to happen. The bottom line seemed to be that the flower notes dominated the woody and smoky ones, so that gives me a rough idea of what the ratios will need to be. I also understand why sweet alyssum is not used as a perfume note. The other fact that came through loud and clear was that this particular set of woody, smoky, and floral notes are not natural soulmates and will need a lot of trace materials to bind them together and provide a smooth transition from top to base.

Today I'm wearing a mixture of the new accords plus a tiny hint of cyclamen to help bridge the gap between the airy notes, the honeyed sweet alyssum, and the smoky wood. This isn't perfect yet, but it's far better than the last trial.

I’ve gone from feeling overwhelmed by this project to getting back on what seems to be a marked trail. A challenging trail, but one that I think I’ll make it through to the end.

[Firewood photo from Wikimedia]

A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION

The other day I was happily typing away on something not perfume-related when a little skype-type box suddenly popped up on my laptop screen (or maybe it was in my brain) and there was the mystery customer, Dev, sitting comfortably in a Danish apartment holding what I think was a glass of prosecco. The image was dark and a little blurry, or maybe he himself was a little blurry, but he seemed to be alone and unsupervised in Tarleisio’s house. I suspect he’d been raiding her wine storage area because he seemed a little jollier than I would have expected given his reputation.

Dev (preening himself): You know what? I’m about to become fashionable again. Trends may come and go, but they eventually always come back to me.

Me: Oh yeah? What makes you say that?

Dev: Andy Tauer said so on his blog. Fetish-related stuff is going to be totally in next year. Black leather, rubber, you know what I mean.

Me: Did it ever go out of style? Anyway, that’s good news because it means that our perfume will be right there, riding the crest of the next big wave like a runaway surfboard.

Dev: True, but only if you finish the perfume in time. I know how you like to drag your feet and sniff, and sniff, and mix, and mix, and you’re such a f***in’ perfectionist that you’re never satisfied, and then just when you think it’s done, you discover some (makes hand quotes, dropping cigarette ash all over the place) “promising new material” that you have to order, and it takes a while for it to come … at the rate you’re going it could take years.

Me: No, actually it’s going quite well. I already have a first draft of the base mixed up, and I’m sending you another big package of material samples on Monday.

Dev: Wouldn’t it be easier just to get a ready-made leather accord, add a little bit of ambroxan and a ready-made fruity base and be done with it? If you call it Leather Fetish and advertise it with some dark, suggestive images, it should be a best-seller, and you don’t have to go to all that work.

Me: Don’t tempt me, Dev. You know I don’t work that way. Besides, I have no advertising budget unless you can come up with one.

Dev: Don’t take offence. It was just a suggestion. Just trying to do my job. And regarding the budget …

Me: You want it to actually work on her, don’t you? She’s probably not very gullible when it comes to advertising.

Dev: I suppose you’re right. It’s got to be the smell, too, not just the concept, although concept usually seems to be 90% of it. Well, do what you have to do.
(He shrugs, gets up unsteadily, goes to the kitchen and refills his prosecco glass. He holds it up as if making a toast)
Here’s to the revival of the dark side! Just hurry up or we'll miss it and have to wait for the next cycle.

[Drunken Angel and Prosecco images adapted from Wikimedia]

GOLDEN CATTLEYA

One of my favorite cattleya hybrids is a pound-puppy mutt called (Blc Wattana Gold x Blc Orange Nugget) x Blc Malworth ‘Orchidglade’. It’s a sturdy midsize plant with clusters of golden-orange flowers on short strong stems, held in a fan-like arrangement, well-separated from one another. It’s blooming now, one of the many orchids that suddenly bursts into flower during the winter solstice. It’s pretty enough, but what I really love about it is its fragrance. When the flowers first open, they’re like a civet bomb, spewing indole all over the place, accompanied by a sweet citrusy scent like orange fruit, orange flowers, and vanilla. After a week or so the indole recedes into the background and the orange fruit, orange flower, and vanilla combination takes over.

One of the endearing features of this orchid is the fact that the color of the flowers inadvertently matches the orange scent - or maybe it’s an “intentional” product of evolution. After all, orange trees have fruit and flowers on them at the same time, so it’s possible that pollinators of oranges are attracted to the color of the fruit as well as the scent of the flowers, and some of the same pollinators are attracted to the color of the orchid.

Of course I had to try to make a perfume based on the fragrance of the plant that I have nicknamed the “Golden Cattleya”. I’ve gone through several versions, the first one containing quite a bit of civet, the second one mostly the orange-vanilla combination, and the third one orange-vanilla with a strong sandalwood base. I know sandalwood isn’t part of the orchid scent, but it just seemed to go well with the orange and provides a long-lasting grown-up ending to the whole thing. I can’t decide which version I like best and lord knows I don’t sell enough perfume to go down the flanker route.

The civet composition I eliminated at first because it just seemed discordant. However, when I revisited it a few months later, after the materials had had time to blend, it’s actually very nice, although I think it could use some stronger fruity-vanilla notes. The second version is the one that is the least odd-smelling, sort of like an orange-vanilla dessert, but it’s fairly linear. That’s the one that I’ve distributed as samples. The sandalwood version was an attempt to boost the base, and I actually like it a lot, but then I’m a big fan of sandalwood in all of its real and synthetic permutations. It’s the least true to the flower, which I view as a down side. I'm still trying to make up my mind which direction to go.

If you’re interested in trying samples of all three versions of Golden Cattleya and commenting on the pros and cons of each, leave a comment to that effect. I’ll send samples to up to three people for their evaluation.

A PERFUMER’S EXISTENTIAL DILEMMA

This morning is dark, cold, and rainy. I’m up way too early, wondering why on earth I agreed to put on my academic costume and be an extra at this year’s convocation ceremony. At least it’s indoors, unlike the spring commencement ceremonies that are usually conducted in the pouring rain.

I think one of the reasons I like perfume so much is that it gives me a much-needed lift on days like today when the weather and the day’s agenda are depressing. It’s like coffee, another thing that cheers by its smell alone. No wonder Seattle is the coffee capital of the US. If only people here would discover perfume, too! But that’s another story entirely.

I’m going to gulp down a cup of good coffee, put on my superhero rain boots, and add a dab of Kilian’s Back to Black, just for good measure, then I’ll head off into the foggy gray wetness protected by a warm, friendly fragrance.

At this point, wearing another perfumer’s perfume, I can’t help wondering why I make perfume myself. Hasn’t it all been done before? Aren’t there so many thousands of wonderful fragrances out there that to make more is a ridiculous exercise in duplication, even if it’s unintentional? Has living in cold, rainy Seattle for 15 years turned me into a giant cockroach?
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The above paragraphs were written a week ago, last Sunday, and I’m only now getting caught up enough with other trivial stuff to get back to the blog. It’s something I always think about, this business of creating perfumes and other things, in a world that’s already full and running over with every kind of product imaginable. I can only conclude that the reason why I do it is because something in my nature compels me to, like Kafka’s bewildered cockroach spewing out its own pungent excrement while its family quickly shoves food through the door and runs away in disgust. Fortunately I have a tolerant family. I’ve also drawn and painted, written poetry, written music and plays, and all of these things were something I felt I had to do, like children who torment their parent with labor pains until they’re born.

It’s too bad that our capitalistic society tries to beat the basic creative instinct out of people in school and make everyone focus on finding what will make the most money in the shortest amount of time. Even in academic science we are encouraged to focus on what is euphemistically termed “translational” research, research explicitly meant to produce products or treatments that can be manufactured right away and sold by the corporate world. Forget the fact that most important discoveries are made serendipitously by curious people just trying to answer some basic question about how the world works. Maybe people have been conditioned to desire mediocrity because it is comfortable, so it’s what “sells”, but it’s not something I think about when I make perfume. I don’t try to appeal to a demographic, nor do I try to appeal to the taste of the majority, whatever that is. I don’t try frantically to hit a moving target of what’s fashionable. I just do what I do and if someone likes it, great. If they don’t, so be it. At least I had fun creating.

THE MYTH OF ETERNAL GROWTH

This morning I was reading a news article bemoaning the fact that the US economy is not growing fast enough. According to this report, the annual growth rate was “only” 5% last year, and is less this year. Pardon me if I think like a biologist, but why should anything, including the economy, be expected to grow indefinitely? Why not try to attain a state of stability in which individuals or individual enterprises can grow (and eventually go to the great perfume shop in the sky), but the whole stays the same size? Isn’t that how living organisms and ecosystems work? Once we are adults, our skin keeps growing new cells as old ones die and are washed down the drain, but the size of our skin doesn’t increase (unless, of course, the goal is to become morbidly obese, in which case the skin must expand to cover the excess flesh). What happens if cells in any part of our body grow unchecked? I think everyone knows the answer to that question. It’s called cancer.

Do we really want an economy that grows according to the cancer model? It may be a healthy model from the tumor’s point of view, but eventually it will end up killing its host. The current economic woes may well be society’s way of trying to find a state of equilibrium in a world where growth cannot continue unchecked. I think of it in terms of human society finally having reached adulthood (or at least adolescence), a state in which additional growth is counterproductive. If that is the case, then the main activity should be maintenance, improvement in the quality of what exists, and replacement of whatever elements are lost through normal attrition, not unchecked growth.

Of course, it could be argued that increasing the world’s population would increase consumption and lead to economic growth. However, unless we intend to expand our economy to new planets, we are dealing with limited resources. This world can only sustain a limited number of people in the style to which they are accustomed. Another way to increase consumption is to destroy existing goods and make new ones to replace them. Wars and natural disasters are one way to accomplish this, production of shoddy goods and planned obsolescence another. I don’t think any of these solutions are very palatable to the people who have to suffer their consequences. It seems to me that it’s time for some of the economists and politicians to take a look at designing a zero-net growth policy that would obviously still allow for growth and decline within the system.

I know, I’m on my curmudgeonly soapbox again, but this whole obsession with the sacred cow of economic growth and complete disregard for alternative models is something that I find deeply troubling. What does this have to do with perfume? Not much really, but anything can be related to anything else if you try hard enough. When I first started making perfume, I bought materials at a fast rate, stocking my perfume organ with all manner of goodies and some not-so-goodies. I’ve now reached a point where the acquisition has slowed down considerably (an economic downturn, if you will), but I still have a wonderful and highly functional perfume-making setup that is far better than it was during its rapid growth phase. I use the existing materials in making perfumes, gradually deplete my supply, and replace that particular item. Zero net growth. Some materials I discover to be of poor quality and pour them into my millefleurs jar (aka waste jar) or give them away. I then replace them with a better version, or with something else entirely. Zero net growth. I have only so much room in my work area, so continuing to grow my “perfume-materials economy” indefinitely would quickly become counterproductive since I wouldn’t even be able to get into the space. Given my current “world” and its resources, the zero-growth (or minimal-growth) model works just fine. I just wish someone would consider it as a model for local, national, and world economies.