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· May 8, 2008 3:08 AM by
Perfumeshrine
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Posted by Dain, Thursday, May 08, 2008 12:06 AM (Eastern)
I wonder, at times, how I ever got into this fine mess, the world of perfume appreciation—then I must laugh at myself—with eyes and wallet wide open, and that's the truth.
To revisit my thoughts of January 22, 2008: "More than anything, I am amazed by how much of perfume appreciation is purely imaginative. This is not the same thing as our sense of smell. We smell a rose in Yves Saint Laurent Paris, we smell musk in Narciso Rodriguez, and even within the gradations of compositional complexity, it is fairly straightforward. But past the physical impressions, are dreams—mixtures compounded of memory and desire. People flock to Chanel No. 5 because Marilyn Monroe wore it, because their mother wore it, because it's a bottle of Chanel, because it makes them feel elegant and sophisticated. None of these things, I must point out, are actually real. They are associations, memories, impressions, and aspirations (respectively). That perfumes are capable of moving us to such profound ecstasies and aversions is a testament to our imaginative powers, perfumer and perfumed."
In deference to the overwhelming importance of personal opinion, I had always vowed never to make a perfume list. However, some perfumes really are objectively great. This is a collaborative project with Helg at Perfume Shrine: ten to bury in a time capsule, for aliens to discover for a retroactive study of the olfactory capacities of humanity. You must go and read her historically oriented (and much more expert) take.
After a dozen drafts, I finally decided on these ten:
- Each perfume must be technically excellent but not inaccessible: a middle ground. These are iconic and therefore representative, but I tried to favor wearability over artistry, because I am particularly interested in the question of "why we wear perfume" rather than "how we make perfume". Helg's emphasis on historicity represents the other point of view, the perfumer rather than the perfumed.
- Collectively, it is important that each has its own distinct character, like a well edited harem. If they are representative, what should they represent? Again, I considered why we we wear perfume—not of necessity, for it is not a life or death matter, but for the joy of it, how it adds a metaphorical dimension to our existence. Metaphors are evocative, but in distinct, characteristic ways—why do hesperides telegraph fresh and clean while animalics suggest dirt and darkness?
To my estimation, there are five major categories of perfumes that a completely untrained individual will recognize: florals, gourmands, orientals, dense, and fresh, with gradations to account for variety and complexity.
FLORALS
I chose Jean Patou JOY as a midpoint floral—if rose had a voice, it'd be a high-strung soprano, while jasmine sings in seductive alto, one neutralizing the other—and just the right dose of aldehydes for uncontested grandeur. If you clarify the composition of aldehydes, you'll get a soliflore, closer to the material in nature, while an obfuscation of spices turns it into a floriental, nearer the center, where all elements are in play (this is how the chart works). The chart also works round its circumference. Counterclockwise: take the cool and salty rose, add plenty of rooty iris and silvery lily of the valley, amplify the aldehydes, freeze it with galbanum, and you've got a crisp, austere floral like Chanel No. 19. Clockwise: honey-sweet melon and candied violet bring warmth to softly indolic jasmine, a night-blooming tropical, in Frédéric Malle Le Parfum de Thérèse, the most sumptuous, refined fruity-floral.
GOURMANDS
Gourmands may be a blip on the wave of trends, but they seem fairly well established to me. They'll certainly be remembered as part of the age of the statement accessory, like the Art Deco creations of the 30s, the aldehydic florals of the 50s, and the obnoxiously loud florientals of the 80s. On the floral end of the spectrum, there are the fruity florals, violet soliflores, and tropicals. The true gourmand scent is dessert fare—fruits, sugar, caramel, chocolate, honey, and vanilla—before it wanders into spicier territory with amber. And no one does the gourmand better than Serge Lutens, such as the boozy Chergui, dark honey under the gravitational pull of smoky tobacco, hay, and the mixed spices of Morocco.
ORIENTALS
Here there be dragons: woods and spices, the resins that compose incense, animalics, and leather. A diverse and exciting group that usually signifies danger and intrigue, on the premise that that which repels also fascinates, as may be guessed by the names: Serge Lutens Muscs Koublaï Khan (sweaty cumin and the dirtiest musks), Robert Piguet Bandit (smoky green galbanum and leather), Caron Coup de Fouet (fiery carnations and pepper), and über-oriental Opium (everything). Wearable is usually not in their vocabulary, but Andy Tauer L'Air du Désert Marocain attains an unusual aridity with curls of aromatic cedar, coriander seeds slithering through your fingers, a whisper of rose, all under a sandy foam of lemon. And as an essay in dark, brooding frowns, Guerlain Vol de Nuit cannot be matched: narcotic jonquil layered with a smoky, animalic galbanum, all embroidered with Guerlinade, that softens into iris and leather. A lonely, difficult thing, we need one in there that gives hell.
DENSE
An abstraction, to be sure, but such is the nature of metaphors. Caron Parfum Sacré may at first be a brassy loud mouth of a floriental, but it soon settles into creamy rose petals and meditative incense, like sinking into a soft, downy bed—pure domesticity and comfort (opposite is socially ambitious JOY, so the chart still works). What list of top ten would be complete without Guerlain Mitsouko, the iconic chypre?—ultimately an abstract representation of a forest. What bridges the gap determines the particular ecosystem, and in the case of Mitsouko, it is the gold-leaved, silver-barked mallorn trees of Lothórien. There never was a perfume so suave and intelligent, an introvert in a state of utter relaxation.
FRESH
Though light of heart and understated, these perfumes also have surprising range. They may play on textures, like the diaphanous Narciso Rodriguez, smoothly dimpled as the face of a manikin, but so inured are we to the presence of floral musks that it registers as utterly unobtrusive, deliberately bland. Or, to bring us full circle, the crisp transparency of Chanel Cristalle, which cuts through oppressive humidity with a diamond-edged knife: bitter lemons and mandarins, a scattering of jasmine petals, and gentle oakmoss sustained by sparkling aldehydes.
Purely based on empirical evidence, this is merely a system that makes the most sense to me, but approach with the proverbial grain of salt, all empiricism is limited by the breadth and depth of experience, and I am but a fledgling fumehead. My iconic representations, they may be wrong. My chart was deeply influenced by Frédéric Malle's schema: I admired how it addressed the sniffer's perceptions above all. Tell me, what are your favorites (floral, gourmand, oriental, dense, and fresh)?
Labels: andy tauer, caron, chanel, frederic malle, guerlain, jean patou, narciso rodriguez, perfume, philosophy, serge lutens, the mnemonic sense
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May 8, 2008 3:08 AM,
I like your reasoning and it does make sense. There is something to be said for a composition's resonance with people too and some of those are popular for a very good reason, as you succinctly point out.
Lovely piece!
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