hortus conclusus

Celebrity Perfume review: Pharrell Williams Girl and Art Nouveau

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Sun, 04 Oct 2020 23:36:00 +0000

Radioactive violet/orris topnotes with an incense base that reminds me (unsurprisingly) of Comme des Garçons’ incense line—a resinous smoky frankincense with a ground of patchouli. There’s a greenness too that rides the middle of the scent, a grassy powdery vetiver. This is harmonious, sophisticated, and olfactorily challenging perfumery; indeed, it’s what one would expect from this house. As it dries down, a peppery woody accord emerges from the violet smoke.

This is one of those fragrances that evokes a color, or even a color palette, in my mind. I see green, violet, of course, and a shimmering, opalescent gray! It strikes me as very French, very fin de siècle. It is the color of Nancy, the home of French Art Nouveau. The glasswork of that town was famous for its emulation of nature, and I’d say the kind of nature that decays, and subsides into the earth. Consider this vase, for example.

And this bed:

The bed is a gorgeous memento mori: the moth is born and flies into the light, its wings a comforting mantle of brief life and death, and the two shimmering ends of its lifecycle bookend the mauve bed.

And consider this amazing summerhouse. This thing blew my mind when we came upon it on a walk around the grounds of the Museum

Pavillon-aquarium du musée de l'École de Nancy (Meurthe-et-Moselle, France). Photo by Gzen92

The fish would swim against the glass and the people would eat their luncheon or drink their brandy or absinthe or champagne inside and watch the aqueous colors shift, darken and brighten, the golden-scaled fish glide through the lilypadded murk.

Whatever this scent is, it is not Girl-y. It is sophisticated, mysterious, decidedly unisex, a bit outré, and not a little old-fashioned. But it does make me very HAPPY

Mary Magdalene: Patron Saint of Perfume (edit)

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Tue, 29 Sep 2020 14:48:00 +0000

I find it very interesting that Mary Magdalene is the patron saint of perfume. Her legend is so multifaceted, so sensory, and so deeply complex that I have to concede that she makes a perfect object of contemplation for the perfumer (and the lover of perfume, of course!). Her status (erroneously attributed to her in the sixth century by the ubiquitous Legenda Aurea or The Golden Legend in English) as a reformed prostitute landed her squarely in the world of the sensual, and her ritualistic, emotive actions subsequent to her conversion only enhanced this reputation. For example, Mary Magdalene was believed to have washed Jesus’ feet with her penitent tears and a whole box of spikenard; perfuming them, if you will, with the liquid of new-found holiness. The passage is so super-sensual I’ll include it here:

Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly,
and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair;
and the house was filled with the odour of the ointment.' (John - Chapter 12: 3)

Although spikenard is not a common ingredient in modern perfumery, we can imagine the gorgeous scent of this earthy balm—spikenard smells a bit like valerian, a bit like vetiver--pouring out over the doomed man’s feet, and the luxurious spectacle of this woman wiping down the leader’s feet with her hair (generally depicted as red, the color of passion, or later blonde, the color of elite beauty in the Middle Ages and Renaissance) in a posture both of deep abjection and of great intimacy. It is that sensual intimacy, the sense of luxuriousness, as well as, arguably, the abjection of covering one’s imperfect human body with exotic unguents from animals and plants that gives the art of perfumery its great mystery, and it is all captured here in this one moment of pathos.

But Mary Magdalene is also associated with that most sensual of bodily adornments, hair, in other strange ways, and her hair also seems always to be connected somehow with the ideas of fragrance and death—it is important to note that MM is also the patron saint of hairdressers (LOL). After her conversion, whe she was reputed to have retreated from the world in penance, some legends describe her as a wild hermit whose bestial nature fundamentally marked her body; she grew a silken hair all over her body! This is a conflation of the idea of Mary Magdalene as a penitent sinner and hermit—and legends of hairy anchorites-- with the idea of wild sexuality, as embodied by Orientalist legends of wild women in the east whose ravenous sexuality manifests itself on their bodies, making them look more animal than human.

Her final link with perfume comes the day after the death of Jesus, since she is one of the myrrhbearers who come to the tomb to scent and embalm the body of the crucified leader, and, according to the story, find him gone! Here, the sensual aspects of fragrance intersect with the more morbid aspects of perfumery, since Mary Magdalene and her companions intend to perfume the body of a dead man. Perfume has been used to embalm corpses since literally the beginning of recorded history, and the legend of the patron saint of perfumery forces us to remember this fact. Interestingly, some of the most heady classic ingredients of perfume contain indoles, and share many qualities in common with rotting flesh—that super sweet smell that is both heady and overwhelming.

If you think about it—you don’t have to—the topnotes of perfumery combined with the woody, balsamic heart and basenotes, emulate the smell of an embalmed body, with the topnotes, citrusy and indolic, reproducing the faint odor of corruption, while the basenotes replicate

the balms and unguents used in classic

enbalming. I know it’s gross to think about

this, but there it is.

A link to Professor Witcombe’s interesting page on the cult of Mary Magdalene

German Legends of the Hairy Anchorite / Studies in the Platonic Epistl

Celebrity Perfume Review Series Part One: Mary J. Blige "My Life"

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Tue, 29 Sep 2020 13:47:00 +0000

This post marks the first in a series of meditations on celebrity perfumes. I am a bit strapped for

spending money at the moment, but feeling the perfume ache. My solution: find the cheap gems and write and think about them for awhile! Celebrity perfumes are justifiably poo-pooed my many perfume lovers for the obvious reasons; they are crassly commercial, often built by a committee, and are part of an assembly line of products meant to help the top 1% of artists and famous-for-being-famous people (and their handlers) reach even higher levels of wealth.

All this is true. But sometimes, someone on the celebrity team thinks to retain a great perfume artist, and even better, let her do her work. Then the rare but wonderful happens--the world is blessed with a cheap, beautiful, high-concept (because attached to the ineffable but fundamental qualities of some celebrity) fragrance.

SO now for the first celeb offering on my shelf: My Life for Mary J Blige.

Gorgeous, steamy gardenia. A tight dark floral, with a hint of smokiness. Here I may be projecting more smoke back into the frag than the incense basenotes strictly allow because I first smelled this on a friend (a super-powerful, brilliant lady) who does smoke--it smelled absolutely perfect on her. The hint of vice of the gardenia and the green background, with the ciggies? Damp, compelling, with more than a hint of vice. Definitely creamy, maybe even buttery, but not in a sweet vanilla-y way. more like a white-flower petal feeling, with a bit of milkiness--a milk or even peach lactone? Lovely!

What has this to do with MJB or the charity the scent supports, which helps women (FFAWN, The Foundation for the Advancement of Women Now)? Very little perhaps. It is unapologetically sensual, feminine, and damp, perhaps even dank. Is this the essence of Mary? Maybe? She seems like a woman of great taste and glamour. But who cares, in the end? It is thoughtfully crafted, a great gardenia perfume, and very cheap if you can get it--it's not in production, but occasionally the bay or one of the big perfume discounters will get in a box set or a loose tester.

A final note--this bottle is also deeply satisfying. It is heart-shaped, but somehow manages to avoid kitsch, perhaps because the bottle is so deeply weighted and fits so perfectly in the palm. It is a beautiful thing to hold, and it fits the folds of the hand with gorgeous snugness. I often bring it on short trips, because it is so compact, durable, and pretty on a counter. Plus it is good to wear year-round, great for day and evening, and lovely between the sheets.

Alive

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 02:49:00 +0000

what a wonderful world, full of smells and sounds and sights, and wonders beyond reckoning.

Let's rejoice in our perception of our lives.

that we are creatures of this world, alive today, fresh with wonder, wild with pain, breathing.

tomorrow, who knows....

=Sketch by Hans Holbein the Younger of Lady Meutas, made about 1536, black and coloured chalks on pink prepared paper, from http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lady_Meutas.jpg

Notes from my lunar insomnia: Apologies from the wilderness

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 13:22:00 +0000

A Harvest Moon tonight, the best in 2O years, so they say, and the sky is clouded over here in Ithaca. Damn you, Lady Fortune!

I return to you, a changed woman. I have a theory about academic work—that its rhythms of feast and fast, of heavy, intense work and periods of creative drought and no deadlines serve to mask a deeper, horrifying truth: that as you get caught up in the cycle of not much work, then intense work, you don’t realize the periods of rest are getting shorter, that the stakes are getting higher, and that no amount of work will ever be good enough. You don’t notice that you are working harder and harder, becoming a more intense person year by year, slowly turning into that workaholic academic you thought you’d never become.

I have always resisted this fate, hoping to remain a well-rounded, grounded person who does not live for her work alone, but somehow the system has gotten to me. How else can I explain this past month of near non-stop work on my dissertation drafts, on my articles, on my job search materials. How can I explain my abandonment of my beloved blog, my ceasing to touch base with another part of myself?

All this to say: I am sorry for having left Hortus Conclusus alone for a whole month! I have missed it and you, and I hope things will get better soon! I just have SO MUCH TO DO!!!!!!!!!! I have a plan though: I will try to post twice or thrice a week—that seems more manageable than my previous once a day, and then maybe catching up with you all won’t be such a daunting task. Then, hopefully by December, my life will be a little less intense, and I can resume my earlier schedule, which certainly brought me a lot of joy.

I also have so many stories to tell you, if only my guilt about not working on ‘the important stuff’ first would let me write them for you…..

Sorry for such a frantic first post after such a long drought. Bear with me, my fragrant friends. I promise the old LBV is in there somewhere.

p.s. ironically, the article I am devoting my life to right now is about madness.

and Bellatrix, I am working on those lovely samples…..

Painting of St. John the Baptist (c.1560) by Joan de Joanes (1523-1579). Joan J. Gavara Collection (Valencia)

javanica review

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 20:55:00 +0000

A spicy floral—round, nutty, nutmeggy anyway, delicate woods—I loved this one the minute I smelled it—Actually, this whole line had me shaking my head in wonder, asking: how does she do it?

Definitely sweet, but dark as well, and it smells foggy somehow, as if a fragrant steam were rising up from my hand, comforting as a cup of hot java. I could see this being a great comfort in the dark winter months-its exotic tropicality, yet almost holiday-oriented spiciness creating a truly winning combination.

Nutmeg botanical plate engraving by William Miller for William Archibald. from Encyclopaedia Britannica 5th Edition, at the Encyclopaedia Press, For Archibald Constable and Company, and Thomson Bonar, Edinburgh: Gale, Curtis, and Fenner, London; and Thomas Wilson and Sons, York, 1817.

I’m back!

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 12:38:00 +0000

Hello, everyone! My beloved and I are back from our enchanting journey to Andalucia and Morocco, and boy are we jet-lagged! But I am brimming with stories to tell you all.… Today, I must compose my class syllabus for the Arthurian Literature class I begin teaching tomorrow, (I know, how horribly last-minute of me!) but tomorrow, the tales begin!

Thank you all for commenting on my posts in my absence, and I look forward to delving into your own blogs’ backlogs (if you have blogs) over the next few days, when I find the time!

Much Love, LBV

train painting by Adolph von Menzel The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH.

notes from my lunar insomnia: inconstancy

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 07:07:00 +0000

Why is the moon, symbol of femininity, also a symbol of inconstancy? I understand that both are subject to cyclic change, but why is that often seen as a negative thing in Western culture? Where is the notion of positive power, of wonder at the connectedness of humans and the sky and other parts of nature? This is something that bothers me off and on, and this allegorical image of Inconstancy brings many of these irritations bubbling up to the surface…

There’s that damn crustacean again—I mentioned it once before in one of my lunatic posts--that horrific symbol of meaningless cycles of nature, that, according to traditional thought that I find quite compelling, has nothing to do with a good god.The depths-crawling lobster represents the nightmare of the unknown, of the subconscious, and also of the deep unexplored ocean; the things we know exist and don’t want to understand—all brought up by the moon’s powerful force.

Abraham Janssens “Inkonstanz, Allegorie der Unbeständigkeit” (1617)

TOTD: Tamara hopes for full bottle love

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 10:23:00 +0000

From a private correspondence between me, LBV, and my perfume friend Tamara. In this installment, Tamara struggles with her expectations and certain realities while searching for true love. I bet you all can relate. I certainly can.

“I'm about to go to the dreaded mall this morning to go see if I like Laura Mercier's Minuit Enchanté cause from what I've read about it, it seems like it's right up my smelly alley ….”

a few hours later:

“But you know what I did? I went to try the L.M. Minuit Enchanté and what the hell! It was a screechy mish mash of notes; it was (and still is) painful cause I'm trying to give it the full on it deserves (poor nasty thing) but bleeech! I am so glad I didn't have to pay for that sample. But I do have it now if you’re interested, ha!

Sooo I take it back what I said before...no I don't . I'll ADD to what I was saying before. I don't just love decadence, I also love earthy and green. Whoooweee girl, I came home (sorely disappointed but so thankful I didn't do a blind buy based on the hype of it.)

.. cause I was so positive I would just cave and get it. Don't you hate when that happens? When you wanted so badly to love something and you don't, you can’t. I suppose it's the hunt that really is the fun part but Lord when you find FB worthy love it's joy. Aggghhh, I'm rambling (sorry!) .. .cause I was so positive I would just cave and get it. Don't you hate when that happens? When you wanted so badly to love something and you don't, you can’t. I suppose it's the hunt that really is the fun part but Lord when you find FB worthy love it's joy. Aggghhh I'm rambling (sorry!)

Tamara, sweetie, ramble away!

CREDITS:

Pedro Américo, “A Noite e os Gênios do Estudo e do Amor” from Museu Nacional de Belas Artes in Rio.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, “The Damsel of the Sanct Grael or Holy Grail” Courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

William Morris’ “Vision of the Holy Grail” from the Museum and Art Gallery of Birmingham

Smelling other peoples’ husbands

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 13:58:00 +0000

I’m reposting one of my very early posts today!

At the party this weekend, my friend Julie suggested I smell her husband, Kurt. Now I don't usually get invitations from wives to inhale the deep manly scents of their husbands (LOL) so of course I could not refuse! Also, these two are not fragrance mavens and I was surprised Kurt would wear anything at all, since he is so involved in his main hobby, cooking, and I imagined he wouldn't want anything to get between him and the smells he conjures from the pan.

I was not surprised, therefore, to discover this fragrance to have a gourmand edge; the first thing that hit my nose was an accord of herbs and pepper, softened with lavender--perfect for my gourmet friend. I asked what it was, and was delighted to hear it was L'occitan PH; I tend to love l'occitane products, partly from good experiences with them (one of my husband's signature scents is Cade) and partly from nostalgia, since it was in a l'occitan shop in France when I was seventeen that I discovered that fragrances could draw me in. Before that, the synthetics and aldehydes always bothered my sensitive nose, but their natural approach provided a sort of gateway experience which prepared me to become the obsessed freak I am today.

Anyway, I got Kurt to let me have a spritz, and was assailed again with that fabulous pepper-lavender-herbs accord. I wore it around during the morning brunch, and enjoyed what was by then developing into a very spicy pepper/nutmeg/cedar combination that was powerful, yet played nice with my food. I can totally imagine women wearing this as well. The drydown--which happened hours later, when I was driving back home with my husband after this wild weekend of parties, was a sweet musky cedar, almost too sweet, but not quite. It lasted until I fell asleep, exhausted from way too much stimulation.

I think this fragrance is tops. it is complex and changes significantly over its lifespan but never grates. It is affordable and long-lasting. It is made by a company that I know to be conscientious and dedicated to an aesthetic lifestyle, and above all, it is just a beautiful composition.

ganesh

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 10:45:00 +0000

I found this on Wikimedia Commons, and I think it is interesting that the fragrance of the lotus is the god’s primary weapon against demonic evil. I cite the comments on the image in full since I think they are very interesting:

“This work is reproduced and described in Martin-Dubost, Paul (1997). Gaņeśa: The Enchanter of the Three Worlds. Mumbai: Project for Indian Cultural Studies. ISBN 81-900184-3-4, p. 73, which says: "Attired in an orange dhoti, his body is enitirely red. On the three points of his tiny crown, budding lotuses have been fixed. Gaṇeśa holds in his two right hands the rosary and a cup filled with three modakas (a fourth substituted by the curving trunk is just about to be tasted). In his two left hands, Gaṇeśa holds a large lotus above and an axe below, with its handle leaning against his shoulder. In the Mudgalapurāṇa (VII, 70), in order to kill the demon of egotism (Mamāsura) who had attacked him, Gaṇeśa Vighnarāja throws his lotus at him. Unable to bear the fragrance of the divine flower, the demon surrenders to Gaṇeśa.’”

Do you all use fragrance to ward off sin and egoism, or do you use it to enhance your vices, I wonder?

CREDITS: “Ganesha getting ready to throw his lotus.” Basohli miniature, circa 1730. National Museum, New Delhi.

“Ganesha, o deus hindu do conhecimento.” from http://www.madras.com.br/, Madras Editora Ltda.

TOTD: Tamara on lemming

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 08:38:00 +0000

So, the lady Tamara and I have been thinking of splitting some Tauer bottles. This is a difficult proposition because, well, I’ll let Tamara speak for herself:

What's goin’ on with me is that I'm in a torturous state with my perfumania; it is so hard saving for my Tauers.

Like, almost overbearing is my longing to get on to my next fix!

October is far away, I've been saving for a month already, with no samples, decants, mini's, nada.* SIGH*

And now with the sale going on at BeautyHabit (25% off till 8/13 type OPRAH at the coupon code box) ha.

I am lemming like crazy! I've gone back and forth , mumbling to myself about "Do I want this? How about this? No don't get anything!"

Like a damn crazy layday.

Here's what I keep obsessing over-

L'Artisan Verte Violette

Parfum Del Rae Mythique

10 Corso Como

and most of all Parfum d Empire! Aaaaggghhh!
Have you heard of this line?

I am wanting Cuir Ottoman (jasmine, iris,resins,leather, benzoin,balsams, incense)

Equistrius (orris, violet, rice powder,chocolate, ambrette,sandalwood, vetiver,grey amber)

and Osmanthus Interdite (green tea, osmanthus,citrus, rose, jasmine,musk and leather )

Yumyumyumyumyumyumyum. Don't these sound delicious , just the notes alone?

And they all cost me my soul but.....who needs one?

I'm tellin’ yah dearie, I'm about ready to fold,

I am leaning over the edge and toying with idea of jumpin' headlong into my fragrance lust with a smile on my face..

But what of my beloved Tauers??

I'm so unfaithful when it comes to any perfume, Sarah.

What shall I do? I can still save again till Oct. I suppose.

I can just give it up, I have more FB than I really need.

(we all do, that's not the point!)

But.But.

I am in need of serious counsel my dear.

And yes I've tried them and gimmegimmegimme :P

Oh this is all just my fumeland life, I have another one entirely and THAT is good.

I guess I have to have some kind of problem around here.

AMEN.

little stars, Olympic Orchids.

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 08:25:00 +0000

Little Stars is another gorgeous orchid scent from this enormously talented perfumer, brand new on the scene. Ellen mentions on her blog that the orchid on which she bases this fragrance is night-blooming—that always a descriptor that intrigues us sensually minded perfume-folk. This one is a heavy, well-made dark spicy citrus floral, with a clove,citrus, and deep woods composition evocative of the most humid, tropical nights. The perfumer's notes suggest this is meant to evoke the nighttime in a steamy jungle, and I can see that. I love the spicy green woodiness of this one—it truly does smell ultra-tropical, and also almost holographically orchid-like. Very impressive composition indeed, with a really natural sense of balance and proportion.

The synthetic oud and tea notes blend in seamlessly, opening up the scent experience alongside a delicious sour citrus--the whole top part of the perfume’s composition tends towards a certain soapy tanginess that I think is definitely unisex.

The middle notes are dominated by a spicy nutmeg-clove accord (I am starting to associate nutmeg with Olympic Orchids perfumes, since it appears as a note in so many of Ellen Covey’s creations)

This dries down to a nice woody spicy fragrance skewed masculine that is full, moist, spicy and mysterious. The wood base is damp and sexy—sandalwood and synthetic oud.

the bottom line: you’d be hard-pressed not to like this one—something for everyone here

doc elly writes about the creation of Little Stars in her own words here

CREDITS:

Radha at night. Mughal painting ca. 1650. from The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH.

image of Brassavola nodosa from Exhibition: 15. European Orchid Congress - Dresden 2009-09

portait of a prince: from The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH.

the exoticism and humanity of smell

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 08:09:00 +0000

Looking at these images of people from many different historical periods interacting with scent makes me think about the ways in which thinking about people of the past smelling things makes their lives seem somehow more real, but at the same time, it makes them seem more exotic.

For example if we were to smell the contents of that Egyptian pot, I’m sure we would feel at home, comforted by the recognizable smells of frankincense, lotus, or rose. But also, the figures’ attitudes, their ritualistic poses, their very alien appearance, makes the content of that pot seem somehow untouchable, distant.

A few Centuries Later….

we can imagine how that swag of citrus and laurel behind this religious tableau smells. We can even imagine the sweet musty smell of Mary Magdalene’s perfumed hair interacting with Jesus’ dirty, sweaty feet. but we are also distanced by the exotic foreignness of the characters’ gestures, by the knowledge of this as a foundational myth, an untouchable—in many ways- story.

Meanwhile, back in Rome…..

This Roman lady at her toilet is in ways repeating a time-honored gesture that most of us echo every day—she puts on a dab of scent. But the amphora, the cold stone table, the tiger skin, the nobility of her robes, and the fetishism of Roman culture exhibited in this painting make her seem somehow remote, an object of admiration, but not identification….

A Few Centuries Later….

This romantic ‘medieval’ maiden smells a rose, taking a moment out of a busy[?] day to enjoy nature’s blessings. We know the stereotypes…is she thinking of her love away at war? Is she dreaming of a lover? is she thinking of the Virgin Mary? Who knows. We are voyeurs, projecting our fragrant fantasies onto her. She is a caricature, a flat, eroticized image. We imagine: “we have all smelled roses. We are all the same.” But roses have changed, Western culture has changed; this fictional maiden is ultimately unknowable.

A little Over a Century ago…..

The Art Nouveau period is one we decadent, baroque, early turn-of-the-21st-century residents can understand, to a certain point. We understand the existential choice to give way completely to pleasure in the face of an increasingly mechanized world. Yet this sniffer is impossible. Stylized beyond understanding, she somehow embodies the idea of the rose, and specifically of the fin de siecle blowsy rose, overblown, decadent, dripping with redundant art.

Food for thought, anyway….

does thinking of people smelling things in the past, thinking of old perfumes and the people who wore it, make you feel closer to the past or more remote from it? Comments, anyone?

CREDITS:

http://www.wysinfo.com/Perfume/Perfume_route.htm

James Joseph Jacques Tissot, The Ointment of the Magdalene Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2007, 00.159.214_PS2.jpg

John William Godward At the Garden Shrine, Pompeii, courtesy of artrenewal.org

John William Waterhouse , ''' The Shrine'''

J.C. Boldoot, Eau de Cologne Parfumerie, Amsterdam, Geheugen van Nederland by Henri Privat-Livemont

perfume riddle IX

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 09:11:00 +0000

Greetings once again, and it’s time for another perfume riddle. The gods have decreed it. Prepare yourselves, and make way for yon riddling perfume bottle, come from on high to challenge your wits. Which heroic reader will throw down the gauntlet and guess, at her peril?

what I am I will not tell,

for if you do not know me well,

you cannot guess, and that is good

for I’m obscure. I’m partly food,

brilliant, luscious and so sweet,

the red topping on an ice cream treat.

Then tobacco, smokey, round,

and almond, bitter and profound.

My name is made of classical references,

Latin, Greek, whatever your preference is.

I struggle and emerge victorious,

Name my name; I am notorious.

Since I am away on vacation, I cannot tell you if you’re right, so I embedded the house name in the labels below

CREDITS: Darius’s sphynx, currently in the Louvre. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

drying hair and drying laundry, frost too

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 07:47:00 +0000

I have been thinking about the fact that for most people, drying hair and clothing is one of the most intimate fragrance experiences they have in any given week. Looking at this painting by John Sloan, I can almost imagine all the different smells—the soapy clean musk of the laundry, the animalic smell of human hair, the perfume from the shampoo, the smell of sweat, the hot asphalt, the myriad city smells of exhaust, heat, sewer, food, etc.

The act of drying one’s hair is such a special, human thing, such an affirmation of femininity… Consider the beautiful image of women throwing their hair up to dry it in Robert Frost’s “Birches”:

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~
 And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

CREDITS:

John Sloan, “Sunday, Women Drying Their Hair”, 1912, uploaded by artinconnu

Frost poem courtesy of www.americanpoems.com

birch tree pic mine.

TOTD: Tamara on comfort scents

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 23:50:00 +0000

All the samples I ever buy are usually 1.5 ml to 2.5 ml. All because I need to be able to spray them to get a real sense of what it is, that I simply cannot get from merely dabbing. It's a divine but horribly expensive habit! Especially if I end up not liking them. (sigh............)

But can I tell you about what I LOVE (yes I'm shouting in caps) I fell in desperate love with two comfort beauties this weekend, Sarah. And really I blame this wretched weather we've been having. Because all I want is for summer to kiss my face and warm my skin, but I'm inside sniffing and bemoaning the rain. And in the beginning of my perfumista journey I never liked "sweet" or comforting smells.

But as it happened almost 7 yrs. ago I had my youngest daughter Olivia and lo and behold I could handle them--I craved them. She made me sweet. Aww. Ha! And that's saying something, having four daughters!

I need strength in my scents but also, as it turns out, comfort.

Peacefulness.

Anyways it's Alahine by Teo Cabanel and Opal by Sonama Scent Studio. Alahine is a gorgeous oriental amber that whirls and twirls all the way to the end of our time together and that speaks to me and whispers "Full bottle worthy Tamara? Do you want me to be yours?" and I say "You will be mine." It's that beautiful. But a total winter scent I think. And I can't get it any time soon so my decant will have to do for now.

The other desire in this bizarre love triangle is a soft powdery lil' skin scent of a thing but Opal is perfect in its smallness and lasts like crazy.

It's simple musk and sweet vanilla without being foody with a yummy sandalwood and I want it even more because Laurie isn't making it these days for she is reformulating it! Gasp! Sarah what if she tweaks it so much it's changed? I'll be heartbroken. My comfort powder (power) is in the decant I hold and I hope the full bottle can come home to me soon.

CREDITS: one of my favorite Sargent paintings, "Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose" (Fred Barnard's daughters Polly aged 7, and Dolly aged 11), Oil on canvas, 68 1/2 x 60 1/2 inches (174x154cm), Tate Gallery, London. Courtesy of Artrenewal.org

wing and a prayer Bella review

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 10:38:00 +0000

Bella indeed! I have received a bunch of samples from A Wing and a Prayer natural perfumes, and I was stuck by the simple beauty of this lovely herbal/citrus/floral.

Verbena dominates—I get that sharp twinge of freshness you get when you brush or rub the leaves of the lemon verbena plant, married to a bright citrus topnote. Later on, Bella becomes less herbaceous and more floral, rounding out and opening up to a delicate rose-verbena fragrance that smells very fresh and true to life. I actually feel as if I were in a garden when I wear this.

I also have to say, I have NEVER seen packaging as beautiful as this. I took pics and I want you all to see how much care and love these perfumers put into their work.

Every element of the multi-part package was carefully, lovingly, and beautifully wrapped, and it came complete with ribbon and lovely, expensive note, hand-written, of course, because this niche company does things in style……

The main event, Tallulah B, was wrapped in an adorable little gauze bag, blue tissue paper, and ornamented with a little silver hummingbird….

Adorable!

CREDITS: Georges de Feure, "Elegante pres d'une Source," originally uploaded by sofi01.

a gallery of resins

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 09:35:00 +0000

I don’t know about you guys, but I sometimes get confused about the differences between all the different resins out there used in pefumery. So I compiled a gallery, so I could remember a little better….

MYRRH

Somali man collecting myrrh.

from “Beautiful Somalia”, by the Somalia Ministry of Information and National Guidance.

found in Yemen, Somalia, Ethiopia

100g of Myrrh resin from the Dhofar region of Oman, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

FRANKINCENSE/OLIBANUM

Frankincense trees

taken by Eckhard Pecher

Found in Oman, Yemen, and Somalia,

Bag of frankincense at Dubai spice souk, taken by Liz Lawley.

LABDANUM

rockrose, or Cistus ladanifer, courtesy Wikimedia Commons

found in the Mediterranean, generally.

image from incense wiki, uploaded by en:User:Sjschen,

PERU BALSAM, ALSO KNOWN AS TOLU

tolu is found in Central and South AMerica.

from Franz Eugen Köhler, Köhler's Medizinal-Pflanzen.

AMBER

Wood resin, source of amber.

Photo taken by Emmanuel Boutet

amber, found all over

from http://minerals.cr.usgs.gov/gips/na/treeslrg.gif

GUM BENZOIN

Franz Eugen Köhler, Köhler's Medizinal-Pflanzen

TOTD: Tamara on monogamy

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 04:51:00 +0000

“I do have an amazing relationship with fragrance but it ain't monogamous; I cruise from here to there and get my thrills while I can, encounter a couple losers that don't satisfy my insatiable lust or calm my wandering heart, but all the while I'm searching for FB worthy love.

It's the best…”

“La Demande En Mariage” by Frédéric Soulacroix courtesy of artrenewal.org

gallery of beasties

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 09:36:00 +0000

For your viewing pleasure--or displeasure, as the case may be-- a gallery of beasties traditionally used to produce perfume

civet cat, for civet.

from Lloyd's Natural History: "A hand-book to the Carnivora. Part 1, Cats, civets, and mungoose", uploaded to Wiki Commons [1] by Richard Lydekker

Sperm Whale, for ambergris.

Sperm whale and Bottlenose whale by Archibald Thorburn

Musk deer (and other musk-producers) for musk.

William Daniell, “Musk Deer, And Birds Of Paradise”, courtesy of artrenewal.org

Beaver, for castor.

“North American Beaver (Castor canadensis)”, Painting by John James Audubon, 1854, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Perfume riddle VIII

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 04:33:00 +0000

Happy Sunday all, and happy riddle day! Here, just flown in, an enigmatic flacon of perfume awaits your sharp brains and swift typing fingers…Who will be the first to guess which bottle wraps her real name in a veil of mystery? I’m on a fairy tale kick right now, so bear with me!

A merry young maid lived in a dark wood,

(with a hey and a ho and a hey nonny no…)

She lived with dwarves; she made them food.

(with a higglety-piggelty pomme-kin)

She was so fair and bright and good,

(With a ….etc.)

she never suffered a petulant mood.

(with a higglety-pigglety etc….)

Only one weakness had she; ‘twas that

she loved to eat sweet fruit low in fat.

A pear and a cherry, an apricot too;

blackcurrants, redcurrants, blueberries blue.

These she loved even more than her life,

and these were her downfall--caused the strife

that rent their little woodland home,

for when this maid was all alone--

the dwarves in the mines-- an old woman came.

She called her sweetly by her name

And held a basket in her hand

filled with the best apples in the land

Apples of yellow and red and green,

the maid trusted the cruel enchantress so mean

and bit through the skin to a miasma so noisome,

she dropped as if dead—she’d eaten me: ___________!

(as I’m away and cannot comment to let you know, I imbedded the maker of this perfume in the labels below…)

drawing: Fernand Khnopff: “Die Sanduhr” Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Going away on holiday!

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Sat, 07 Aug 2010 04:49:00 +0000

HI all,

Today my husband and I leave for a two and a half week trip to Andalusia and Morocco! We will explore the land, go shopping (for perfume!!!!!!!!!!! and other things too, I guess) and relax before returning to the real world. I look forward to a break from teaching, and I am certain my chronically stressed and overworked husband will be thrilled to avoid thinking about all things financial and work-related for a week.

As far as Hortus Conclusus is concerned, I have lined up several posts for your perusal—especially through the first week or so. I will not be around to respond to your comments (or visit your own wonderful blogs) until the very end of August, so please forgive what may appear to be a stony silence on my part. I look forward to reconnecting and seeing what you all had to say when I get back, though.

I wish you all a wonderful month of August, filled with art, delight, beauty, family, friends, and scent!

Nos Vemos Pronto…..

Con Cariño,

Bonne Vivante.

p.s. I’ll be bringing back some presents for you as well………

CREDITS:

Jean-Léon Gérôme 'Un Muezzin Appelant du Haut du Minaret les Fidèles à la Prière,' courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

Tauer Carillon pour un Ange review

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 23:02:00 +0000

Elena of Perfume Shrine recently sent me a bottle of Andy Tauer’s latest creation, Carillon pour un ange! Of course, thrilled and so eager to smell the new lily of the valley composition—which is bound to be delightfully challenging and unique coming from Tauer--I tore open the dainty box and sprayed it on my waiting wrists!

Lo and behold, an angel of the Lord came down and glory shone around…..well, noooo, but I did gasp in surprise and wonder at the brilliance of this new fragrance.

It is golden green—I can’t think of another way to describe it but in color. That famous bitter, almost oily, Tauer citrus peel, an intense grassy green, and a lush, wet, overwhelming Lily-of-the-valley. This is damp gorgeousness, and not an everyday perfume—it is too decadent for that.

I find myself thinking about gold filigree, baroque symphonies, in a lush contrapuntal swell of color, sound and memory. Breathtaking.

CREDITS:

Stained glass windows in the Mausoleum of the Roman Catholic Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Los Angeles. From the workshop of Franz Borgias Mayer (1848–1926)

dyptique’s dangerous sleeping beauty

noreply@blogger.com (La Bonne Vivante) — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 19:34:00 +0000

in the darker, more atavistic versions of Sleeping Beauty, the dormant castle is surrounded by an impenetrable wall of rose briars, with gigantic thorns that impale the hapless princes who try to push through to the interior in which the lovely princess lies in her enchanted coma.

The princes’ bodies hang on that monstrous rose hedge, decomposing until they are naught but skeletons. This image haunted me when I was young, as it still does now, being one of the most disturbing of a a whole series of folktales which emphasize not only the rose’s beauty, but also its danger—for below the smooth silk-plush blossoms, like spikes and thorns, jagged leaves, and pain. This is one of the reasons I believe the rose makes such a perfect symbol for love—a thing of great beauty as well as undeniable pain.

Dyptique’s l’ombre dans l’eau captures this dark green danger of the rose, I believe. It is not as menacing as a wall of gigantic malignant thorns, but it does explore the stems and leaves and vegetation lurking around the rosebud as much as the flower itself-the shadows and dampnesses, not the brilliances and . The addition of craggy and sharp blackcurrant leaves pushes it even further into Grimm territory.

I find that it opens very green and damp, then becomes somewhat fruity, all the while supporting the blowsy weight of a wet, bright Damask rose—

Somehow the combination of that intense rose and the intense greenness of the foliage surrounding it makes me think of this fragrance as a living rose spliced on top of Vent Vert…..

I am loving this today.

CREDITS:

Henry Maynell Rheam’s sleeping beauty courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

thorn image from http://sensitivesaladventures.blogspot.com/

llustrationfrom Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé: Les Contes de ma Mère l'Oye(1697). Gustave Doré's illustrations for Charles Perrault's La Belle au Bois Dormant. Courtesy of http://www.ac-amiens.fr/pedagogie/lettres/lycee/perrault/gravures.htm