Perfume feels like a very frivolous topic to address
on this particular day, given the obscenity of what is unfolding in Washington
as this post goes up.
Yet… Our focus on scent is less trivial than it seems.
Smell is a sense that people mostly use to detect and reject -- food that’s
gone bad, but also the cooking of others, the smells of others. As perfume lovers, we’re able to go beyond that
gut-level, “this isn’t me/us” rejection. Not just because of our fabled
fascination for skank, but because we’ve learned to embrace notes we didn’t
care about initially. We’re willing to approach them, spend time with them,
“see” them differently. Go past our prejudices. Find out more.
This openness, this willingness to engage with
otherness through the most intimate of our senses (along with taste) could
stand as a metaphor for the open-mindedness we need to counter the rancid
stench of toxic masculinity that is creeping over our poor planet. We also need
the curiosity and love of knowledge that yielded the teeming culture we’ve
created around perfume. Disregard for facts starts with the B.S. we get fed to
make us buy stuff. It ends in post-truth.
In the short, cold days of winter, we crave warmth, comfort
and light. Today more than ever. So here’s a mix of the new and old, to fight
the cold and help us stand up. Scents of comfort and fortitude. As our dear
departed Leonard Cohen sang in Anthem: “There’s a crack in everything/ That’s how the light gets in.”
Monday January 23rd
Just adding this whiff of the Women's March, from a piece by Laurie Penny:
"Inauguration Day stank of limp rage and lukewarm hotdogs, lost-looking people shivering in American flags, the crowd too thin to keep each other warm. The Women’s March smelled of paint and glue and, not unpleasantly, of lots of nice ladies sweating lightly under sensible knitwear, realizing that they have more power in numbers than they ever guessed."
Monday January 23rd
Just adding this whiff of the Women's March, from a piece by Laurie Penny:
"Inauguration Day stank of limp rage and lukewarm hotdogs, lost-looking people shivering in American flags, the crowd too thin to keep each other warm. The Women’s March smelled of paint and glue and, not unpleasantly, of lots of nice ladies sweating lightly under sensible knitwear, realizing that they have more power in numbers than they ever guessed."
Little Bianca (Mizensir)
“Smells don’t
cheat, little Bianca. They speak to the heart, in a language that always tells
the truth”, writes Alberto Morillas in the press release for Little Bianca, the rose cologne he
composed for his granddaughter. A simple, luminous scent that brings
together “everything I love, simple,
beautiful scents so you’ll recognize what is true and essential”. This
includes Paradisone, a gorgeous upgrade of hedione, which smells like the souls
of all the white flowers that died for us and went to heaven. But the main
ingredient is love.
Cologne pour le Soir (Maison Francis Kurkdjian)
Often neglected in favor of its more outrageous
variation Absolue pour le soir, this
powdery, honeyed, incense-infused scent is as softly comforting as its
inspiration, the benzoin-based Papier d’Arménie.
Ambre Éternel (Guerlain)
Despite its name, this isn’t the creamy vanilla and
cistus blend called “amber” in perfumery, but a gauzy aura of frosty, carroty
iris layered over incense-infused orange blossom. A touch of sweet smokiness
lingers like the faint memory of a log fire on a woolen scarf.
Close Up (Olfactive
Studio)
Perfumery’s Riot Grrrl Annick Menardo finds the sweet
spot connecting amber, cherry and tobacco on the toffee-to-coffee continuum.
Anise and green coffee provide the link with the licorice-y tonka. Caramel-smooth,
toasty, incredibly long-lasting and unexpectedly tough.
Oeillet Bengale (Aedes de
Venustas)
The pepper-sparked, incense-fuelled carnation
explosion set off by Rodrigo Flores Roux has been a winter mainstay of mine
since it came out. I’d warm myself up with the Mexican firebrand at the Women’s
March if I were in Washington tomorrow…
Blackpepper (Comme
des Garçons)
As a (symbolic) antidote to pepper spray: after the initial
blast of the titular ingredient, Antoine Maisondieu’s dark blend unfolds into a
marquetry of faux noirs ranging from
the dark-chocolate smoothness of tonka to the matte amber of clary sage, by way
of flint, dust, leather and tar.
Encre Noire (Lalique)
Vetiver is the most vertical ingredient I know: the
very definition of an olfactory backbone. Deftly faceted by Nathalie Lorson, Encre Noire brings out glints of flint
and bitter chocolate.
Cuir de Russie (Chanel)
Remember that scene at the end of Casablanca? Captain Renault (Claude Rains) bins a bottle of Vichy
water, ditching the collaborationist French government (then based in the spa
town of Vichy) to go over to the Resistance with Rick. Given the current
circumstances, the scene popped into my mind as I reached for Chanel’s classic…
But I’m hanging on to the EDT version I bought days after Obama was first
elected. The new EDP version, while lovely, tones down the cool sheen of
aldehydes and that slight stable-y funk, while amping up the musks. In either
version, this olfactory emblem of women’s emancipation in the 20s is still
pretty badass.
N°19 (Chanel)
To remember that spring does come back, eventually.
Because I need a scent with a backbone. A scent that is irrefutable. I’ve got a
couple of vintage bottles in the fridge, along with a recent-ish extrait that’s
still glorious.
Aromatics Elixir (Clinique)
I recently caught a patchouli-laden whiff of this in
an office and thought: this classic American fragrance is unimpeachable.
For more seasonal round-ups, see the usual suspects:
The picture above was taken by me in Montreal.
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