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Yasmin: A Midsummer’s Night Dream

THE SONG OF THE JASMINE FAIRY

In heat of summer days
With sunshine all ablaze,
Here, here are cool green bowers,
Starry with Jasmine flowers;
Sweet-scented, like a dream
Of Fairyland they seem.

And when the long hot day
At length has worn away,
And twilight deepens, till
The darkness comes--then, still,
The glimmering Jasmine white
Gives fragrance to the night.





If there was a jasmine flower for every magic hour I spent with my friend Yasmin, I would have a whole garden, with jasmine in full bloom. Yasmin always listened, and despite the fact that she did not like her handwriting, both her spoken and written words always seemed magically poetic and could paint a picture that could be only seen on the hidden canvas of the mind.

With her words she has created a whole kingdom of fairies, and they all lived on a tiny machine (which really was like a piece of earth, with little flowers on it). It all started with a magic rabbit. A white rabbit, just like Alice’s – white with red eyes but no watch. He lived on the little machine, which was the size of an adult’s palm. He grew tiny carrots and tiny flowers in his garden (on the machine). Later, many good fairies appeared

When we were little girls, Yasmin’s miniature stories provided an escape from the cruel world that threatened the perfection of childhood, just as my little matchbox sized match-dolls and miniatures created a portal to a small world where everything can be controlled and can only be good. We spent hours playing with Yasmin’s miniature dolls from England (they had little tea sets, kettles and all), drawing castles in the clouds, diving into the fairy illustrations of Cicely Mary Barker, and getting lost in Mirkwood with the hobbits and elves. When we were teenagers, we spent the afternoons doing yoga on the grass until the mosquitoes chased us to the screened indoors, where we spent the rest of the evening figuring out who we are what we will become when we finally grow up, and inventing words for things that did not exist in our language’s dictionary. Now that we can call ourselves grown-ups, Yasmin moved on to bringing happiness by listening and reflecting, while I kept on creating miniature (this time odorous) universes, packed in tiny pebble-like flacons and embedded with fairies...

I could have probably dedicate a whole line of perfumes just based on jasmine notes. And in the case of developing a scent for my friend Yasmin, it seemed as if each scent that I made showed one aspect of both my friend and the flowers that bear her name.

The first perfume I made smelled exactly like her house. Her family is well known for their travels to India, and there are many Indian smells in the house: from Indian dull and curries, to incense and fragrant oils, patchouli-scented shawls, and the endless bloom of jasmine which I mentioned earlier. The first scent – a heavy concoction of amber, patchouli, frankincense, champaca, kewda and jasmine - was instantly embraced by no other than Yasmin’s mother, who adopted it immediately as her signature perfume. In an essence, this perfume smelled like her house, so it was no surprise to neither of us.

The second perfume I made for Yasmin was the one she actually adopted for herself: it was equally floral and citrus, and not as heavy. Tart citrus top notes of lemon and bergamot, soft floral heart of jasmine, orange blossom, ylang ylang and tuberose over a light base of sandalwood, benzoin and frankincense, and just the bare tinge of vanilla.

Last year, before Yasmin’s wedding, I made her a new perfume, which I thought would be even better suited for her, and equally balancing tart elements (she loves sour fruit, and hates candy!), jasmine heart and a sophisticated base. This time it was a contrast between lime, jasmine and tonka, and I thought that this time I nailed down Yasmin’s signature perfume.

But I still wanted to tell the world my little fairy story, and share my love to my friend and the flowers she is named after. To do so I wanted to create a jasmine soliflore. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Yasmin means jasmine in both Hebrew and Arabic. And as corny as this may sound, I cannot help but think of my friend whenever I smell these white, intoxicating blossoms – particularly jasmine grandiflorum. Although it was relatively easy to come up with a Signature Perfume for my friend Yasmin – partly because I know her so well and partly because she is so easy going and loves everything that I do; it took a long time before I achieved the results I was aiming for the jasmine soliflore. It took a while before I managed to capture the scent surrounding my friend’s house – the scent of jasmine bushes, always lush, always blooming… The house is still there, the jasmines are still there. My friend’s adventurous parents are still there when they are not traveling. But now we both have grown up and we don’t live in our parents’ houses anymore. Now, instead of telling fairy stories to her friends and practice figure skating, Yasmin listens to the life stories of her clients she councils in London, and continues to study psychology and practice Kiteido around the world.

Yasmin perfume
is now complete. When I smell it, I am flashbacked into my parents home’s front stone patio, picking the scarce flowers at dawn, experimenting in turning them into a tongue-numbing tea… Or planting jasmine sambac flowers in my own dew-laden garden on an early summer morning, with my baby daughter carried on my back… Gradually, the jasmines become less green and more voluptuous, the narcotic queen of the night impregnates the nights spent on the hammock under the stars, filled with endless conversations. I am gradually lulled into sleep by voluptous jasmine, sandalwood incense, and amber. A Midsummer’s Night Dream euphoria.


THE SONG OF THE WINTER JASMINE FAIRY

All through the Summer my leaves were green,
But never a flower of mine was seen;
Now Summer is gone, that was so gay,
And my little green leaves are shed away.
In the grey of the year
What cheer, what cheer?

The Winter is come, the cold winds blow;
I shall feel the frost and the drifting snow;
But the sun can shine in December too,
And this is the time of my gift to you.
See here, see here,
My flowers appear!

The swallows have flown beyond the sea,
But friendly Robin, he stays with me;
And little Tom-Tit, so busy and small,
Hops where the jasmine is thick on the wall;
And we say: "Good cheer!
We're here! We're here!"

* Ilustrations and poems by Cicely Mary Barker
Photos and poems found on this site

Tocade

I first smelled Tocade twelve years ago, when it was just launched. I didn't think much of it, except that I liked the bottle, which reminded me of a pagoda.

Tocade is one of my most favourite linear scents. Despite the fact that it offers very little if any evolution, it is not in the least uninteresting. The only evolution to speak of is reminiscent of Ravel’s Bolero, only that instead of the elaborate crescendo, Tocade is like a stretched diminuendo.
Tocade starts with what can be perceived by some as a strong, soapy bergamot and rosewood accord, that is fresh and powdery at once. I enjoy the clean feel of this opening, despite its somewhat harsh sharpness. The soapy phase fades really quickly, and becomes a rather soft, powdery, fluffy rosy vanilla fragrance, with a faint amber in the distance. This accord stays quite the same for the rest of its life, as Tocade is quite a linear scent, you won't find in it much more than there is a few minutes after applying it on... But that is what makes up most of its charm and loveliness. It is in fact this concept makes Toacde an interesting perfume in its own right.
Though it has plenty of floral notes - roses, geranium and magnolia - Tocade is not quite the usual floral, and I see it more as a powdery fragrance, quite reminiscent of a soft, soapy fragrance. It is a subtle scent that I find comforting with its clean, soft and subtle sweetness.
Wearing Tocade is like cuddling in a soft flannel pyjama and bedsheets with a matching texture, right after an evening shower... I wear it most often as a bedtime scent. However, with its humouros, sexy and light-hearted chic it can easily live up to the expectations of more demanding scenarios such as work and play.

Tocade was one of the first very abstract, super-synthetic perfumes that I really liked. Despite the fact that the notes are supposedly inspired by nature, there seem to be no ambition in its construction to create any imitation of or reference to nature. It is a synthetic, man-made pleasure, just like a beautiful city.

Top notes: Bergamot, Rosewood, Magnolia
heart notes: Rose, Orris Geranium
Base notes: Cedar,Vanilla, Amber, Musk

No. 5


No. 5 has become an institution – and as such it is often a challenge to simply enjoy it for what it is - a perfume. However, a close look at the genius construction of the Parfum Extrait reveals a harmony that deserves more attention despite being a classic and a trend setter, and a perfume that has already received all the glory it deserves to get (being the number one bestseller in the world and winning awards for the bottle and what have you).

It is actually a work of art in the same way that Chanel’s fashion design has reached the heights of being an art form and at the same time a concrete, useful piece of clothing.
To prove so, one must re-think it without being bound to olfactory memories and collective subconscious schemes that evolved around this perfume in the last 8 decades or so of its existence (i.e. the first perfume-fashion association; confident business women in pinstripe suits, Marilyn Monroe’s bedtime fragrance, etc. etc.). At first, I must admit I was a bit frightened of it – it seemed so formal, so not “me”, and above all – its history and status made it seem very demanding to me. It was not until I bought the pure parfum (for as far as I know my only reason was the bottle, and the fact it is a classic. And since none of the readily available Chanel perfumes were to my taste at the time anyways – it did not make a difference to me which one I would get). At the moment I dabbed the parfum extrait on my skin, my perception of it changed completely…

A woman should wear No. 5 as if it was created for her alone, and she was the first woman on earth to wear it.

No. 5 is a truly feminine perfume, and is not bound to anything else but a bold portrayal of feminine beauty. It contains flowers, but does not smell quite like one flower in particular, or like a flower bouquet. I believe Ernest Beaux definitely fulfilled Chanel’s vision of creating a perfume that will help women to be proud of their own smell, and not try to smell like a flowerbed.

To my nose, No. 5 smells sweet and ambery, and is both sensual and seductive in a subtle and sophisticated way. The most dominant accord that comes forward on my own particular skin is that of ylang ylang, amber and civet, all with an oily, skin-like nuance from the rich, thick aldehydes. The It radiates a feminine warmth that when worn with confidence can be highly appreciated and enjoyed by both the woman who wears it and the people that are allowed to be close enough to smell her…

Although it is perceived by many as a formal, business-like scent, or the scent worn by mothers (and therefore radiates a certain authority), to me it feels sexy, soft, voluptuous, and despite the high dosage of aldehydes – quite natural.
I prefer to wear No. 5 the way Marilyn Monroe did – to bed.

Top: Aldehydes, Bergamot, Rosewood, Neroli
Heart; Ylang ylang, Rose, Jasmine
Base: Amber, Civet, Sandalwood, Vetiver

Noix de Tuberéuse


flowers from my lei, originally uploaded by flicka23.

These little white flowers from the narcissus family have a rich nocturnal life: it is not until the evening that their scent is at its full intoxicating aphrodisiac powers. It was traditionally considered dangerous for a young lady to pass through them as to be overcome by its intoxicating and voluptuous fragrance and be struck helplessly by it aphrodisiac powers (Poucher, 1959). Different crops and varieties of the absolute smell differently – some are powdery, soft and sweet, other have a slightly green overtones, and the harshest ones have been described as rubbery and almost medicinal.

In modern perfumery, tuberoses are often interpreted as a bombastic, loud and high-pitched narcotic florals. Poison and Fracas are two extreme examples of how tuberose can be treated in a very bold way. Noix de Tuberéuse, however, is the first and only perfume I found so far that is built around the theme of tuberose and does not have a harsh, intimidating, heady and cloying presence.

Noix de Tuberéuse is the softest tuberose and the one that reminded me most of the pure absolute. It is simple and I consider it a soliflore as the other notes all serve to accent different aspects of tuberose: mimosa and clover leaf hint at its slight green top notes; orris enhances its powdery softness; violet flowers bring forth an almost gourmand sweetness; tonka bean brings out its rich yet gentle, creamy-buttery sweetness; and ambery incense and sandalwood add a full bodied yet mysterious aura that along with reminiscence of coconut serves as a reference to the tropical Orient.

All in all, Noix de Tuberéuse is a creamy, buttery, sweet and soft tuberose scent. It reminds me of two things – the first one being the perfume oil called “Night Queen” from India. It is not a fancy perfume – but smells delicate and alluring, like flowers and incense intertwined. I am quite sure it is suppose to smell like tuberose to begin with, as tuberose is often referred to as “Mistress of the Night”.
The other olfactory reference links us back to Lipstick Rose, as it does remind me of the scent of some lipsticks. The violet and orris that appear in both perfumes have a similar effect and create a pleasantly plasticy nuance that is akin to the taste of a shimmering pearly-pink lipstick, if you happen.

The packaging of Noix de Tuberéuse is pink, and I couldn’t think of a better colour to describe this scent. It smells pink to me… It also brings me good memories, from when I first worn it a couple of years ago and my daughter was recovering from a broken femur, an incident that had forced her to choose speech as an effective method of communication... Ever since than she can’t stop talking, and my dreams are coming true. Maybe that is why I associate it more with chilly autumn days. But regardless of my own personal memories and associations, I still feel that the heat (even the very slight heat such as the mild spring weather in which I was wearing this yesterday) upgrades this scent into the next cloying-level which decreases both its sex-appeal and delicacy.

Top notes: Wild Green Clover, Mimosa
Heart notes: Tuberose, Fig, Violet

Base notes: Tonka Bean, Orris, Amber, Sandalwood, Incense, Coconut

p.s. I can't smell the figs on my skin at all. But these are listed on the official Miller Harris website.

Lipstick Rose

Nothing tastes more sweet, tender and alluring than trying Savta’s lipstick in front of her dresser. Whether or not I got permission did not matter, my grandmother often offered me her lipstick to try on. In her chic little magical purse she always has everything one needs when on the go – yet you will never guess there is anything in there by the weight or volume. Pure magic. From mints to tissue to anything else, including a lipstick in a basic colour – basic red or shimmering pink or coral - and a little vintage mirror that I will always remember her by: with roses embroidered on the back, and a brass ornamented handle. When looking at it, my tiny young-girl facial features appeared bigger than life and in incredible detail which could be only explained as a type of grandma’s magic.

Retro aldehydic, pink, powdery and lady-like, Lipstick Rose brings back these memories quite effortlessly. This is not supposed to be a rose scent – but the scent of a rose tinted lipstick. However, it does have a significant amount of rose that can justify both interpretations… With notes of violets (both powdery and sweet candied flowers), musky ambrette seeds, soft aldehydes and sweet-powdery heliotrope, powdery iris, and sweet and honeyed raspberry and tagetes notes.

Wearing Lipstick Rose is like digging in my grandmother’s vanity drawers, playing with her little mirror and a sweet smelling lipstick and staring glamorously at my funny facial expressions.

Notes (based on Perfume Addicts Database):
Top notes: Violet, Grapefruit, Ambrette
Heart notes:Coriander, Tagette
Base notes: Aldéhydes, Rose, Iris, Rasberry, Héliotrope
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