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Tragic Love Stories, Bottled

I've decided to dedicate my 4th annual Valentine's Day tea party to broken hearts - those of us who are suffering from unrequited love, or are simply lonely on this day that's supposed to be celebrated in a twosome.

There is no real of art more obsessed with love, passion and desire than perfume. Nearly all perfumes are a promise of a love potion; an elixir so irresistible that it will capture your heart's desires, and lure in new ones... And some were inspired by the most tragic love stories. Others, even more so inspiring, by the perfumer's real life stories, agony and muses.

Let's begin with the house of Guerlain. More than any other perfume house I know, their perfumes bottle love stories and are usually inspired by women and created first and foremost to be worn on a woman's skin.

Jicky (1889) In 1864, Aimé Guerlain had to interrupt his studies in England and return to the family's business due to the illness of his father, Pierre-François. Him and his brother, Gabriel, now had to take charge of all aspects of the company - and his role was as perfumers, while his brother's was to take care of the business and marketing side of things. Years later he created this masterpiece, and although another story says this was his nickname for his nephew, Jaqcues - another story says this was the name of the lover he left behind in England.

Mitsouko (1919) is inspired by the heroine of Le Bataille (The Battle) - a novel about a Japanese girl who was abandoned by an American naval officer who married her, got her pregnant and never returned to her. She tried to perform harakiri but was found by one of her maids, who saved her life. The perfume is redolent of Asian woods, spices and delicate aldehydic peach note.

Nuit de Noël (1922) was created by Ernest Daltroff with his muse, lover and business partner
Félicie Vanpouille. She was a dressmaker by profession, and became Caron's legendary package and bottle designer. Her creations really completed the perfume and together the couple created masterpieces in both visual and olfactory aspects. She always turned down Daltroff's proposals, so they never married. But, she did become an equal partner and shareholder in the business, and when Daltroff fled Nazi-occupied France to Canada (he was Jewish) - he gave her the entire Caron company. He died two years later from cancer - or was it a broken heart? 

Shalimar (1925) was inspired by the tragic tale of Shah Jahan (an Indian king) to his favourite wife Mumtaz Mahal. She died in child birth and left him broken hearted. The perfume is named after the gardens of shalimar, where the royal lovers spent their happy times together before her untimely death. Next to them Shah Jahan build the Taj Mahal - a tomb and monument for Mumtaz Mahal. His resting place is adjacent to it, so he can watch her monumental beauty for many years. The perfume contains all the abundance of the imaginary oriental garden and is presented in a bottle that resembles a water fountain - or a fruit bowl. Take your pick.

Femme (1944) was released by Marcel Rochas as a coming-of-age tribute to his wife, Hélène. It was, however, created earlier by Edmond Roudnitska, with whatever raw materials he had from a raw material supplier he worked with. The materials were inevitably aged during the war and he quality of the perfume has a certain darkness to it that truly reflects its time. Despite the gravity of the events outside, Roudnitska maintained his creative spirit and his commitment to his art. And that, to me, is the true love story behind this perfume.

Chamade (1969) is the name of a particular military drum beat, and also doubles as the heartbeat of surrender - to love, of course. Jean-Paul Guerlain said he created it for a certain woman in mind - but won't reveal who she was. With notes of black currents, ylang ylang and green galbanum over a base of vanilla and oakmoss it was one of the perfumes that predicted the sharp-angled greens of the 1970's.


 
Love Story in a Bottle
Please leave a comment with perfumes that were inspired by a love story - tragic or otherwise. Among the commentators, there will be a lucky draw on Friday, February 22nd, to win a package with a mini of Immortelle l'Amour - my own contribution to the world of broken-heart-inspired perfumes.









Espionage Hot Chocolate

Espionage Hot Chocolate by Ayala Moriel
Espionage Hot Chocolate, a photo by Ayala Moriel on Flickr.
After a long afternoon of learning how to make fresh pasta with Pasta Famiglia, I strolled over to the nearby Nymph East - the new location of CocoaNymph which opened this fall. It has all the old goodies but in a new fresh location that has great potential - including a regular offering of chocolate making workshops and a growing full-service cafe menu.

For the Hot Chocolate Festival (January 19 - February 14), CocoaNymph concocted a special limited edition beverage that shows Rachel Sawazky's skill and daring imagination: the Espionage hot chocolate, which is infused with jasmine essence and topped with juniper marshmallows. Like the chocolate bar we created together, it packs a punch, surprises the taste buds and stimulates the imagination.

Espionage Hot Chocolate

Personally, I was reminded of the thick "Shokolada" that Maestro Secundus Minutius Hora poured out to Momo when she visited the heart of time. It's the kind of beverage that makes you stop in your track, contemplate, and savour every moment. Which is the key for happy living!

Visit CocoaNymph West (3739 West 10th Avenue & Alma) or East (4 West 7th Avenue & Ontario) to enjoy a cup of this thick elixir; or buy a hot chocolate making kit to brew at home with your own choice of marshmallows and possibly other addictive additions... I am now planning my 4th annual Valentine's Tea Party and am scheming which is dedicated to broken hearts and tragic love stories. If you have any suggestions for a chocolate brew along these lines (or any other crazy hot chocolate and marshmallow combinations) I'll be most grateful! So do leave a comment! I might just send you an Espionage chocolate bar as a thank you, you know...

Monkey Monday: Living Through The Nose

My vanilla bean jar broke, and so I had to find another jar... While transferring the bundle of moist beans, their robust aroma clung to my fingers. For hours, I could smell a rich, balsamic, slightly woodsy scent emanating from my fingers. Vanilla is a unique aroma in that it purely positive, always recalling grandma's baking and similar homely comforts and overall goodness. It's hard to think of a way to kill vanilla for me, definitely not the pure extract or whole vanilla beans. But as I was living with vanilla on my palms for nearly a day - I could also smell a hint of what I found disturbingly reminiscent of indole: That substance which is more commonly associated with ripe bodies, human feces and (more positively) jasmine and other heady white flowers.

Idole naturally occurs in a number of things, ranging from bonito flakes, butter, fish, egg, malt, tobacco and rum to white flowers such as jasmine, narcissus and ylang ylang. I'm still not finding much literature suggesting it occurs in vanilla (save for one place that suggests using it in vanilla flavouring) but that's what my nose tells me. 

The disturbing discovery that the eternally comforting scent of vanilla, that single scent with no negative association, might actually contain the controversially-scented molecule of indole made me realize how much I have grown to literally live through my nose. I assess - and immediately cast judgement - on anything I encounter in my life based on scent alone. And this is not restricted to food and beverages alone: I sniff out anything and anywhere, as long as I can breathe in it: dwellings and living spaces, banks, clinics, street corners, corner stores, pharmacies - you name it. I've always been that way, tending to visit friends more often if I like the scent of their home... And I could literally smell danger in my house - i.e. the mood change of my family members - just by smell alone.

After making perfumery my profession - this has become even "worse" of course. I notice every detail when it comes to scents and smells around me, which I personally enjoy most of the time. But sometimes I wonder if it might come across as obsessive or irrational to the "normal" people around me...

The other side effect of being very scent-concious is that a lot of "nice" commercial scents that I used to like or at least enjoy getting a whiff of are losing their mystique once I become acquainted with some of the modern day molecules that dominant them. Scents can seem a lot more alluring when you don't actually know what's in them... On the other hand, my appreciation of more subtle (and more often than never - the purely natural) goodies from tea and wine to fine fragrances has increased ten fold since I began strolling this path. I can now enjoy the muskiness of ambretolide that's whispering through scents containing ambrette seed essences - including some of the more subtle of my own creations (i.e.: Kinmokusei), which now I can enjoy their complexities much more than before. The ionones, which before were only a guess of what they were and how they behaved are revealing more of their beauty to me, including in some of my favourite oolong teas. I can sense the bracing spiciness of clove's eugenol peaking through the innocent looking ylang ylang. And, apparently, I can discover indole in my kitchen.

Have you experienced a heightened awareness related to the sense of smell in daily life that was surprising, disturbing, mind-opening or just plain delightful? How does the sense of smell change your daily life?

Post a comment and enter to win a decant of the ambrette-seed laden No. 18 by Chanel (part of their Les Exclusifs collection).

Meet Laurax

"Meet Laurax, a not-very-bold, not-that-exciting new fragrance"...

A new study in the Weizmann Institute of Science, Israel by Tali Weiss and Kobi Snitz discovered that blending together completely different molecules in identical intensity level produces an odour that is surprisingly lacking in character, and is hardly any different from another blend created with the same principles. "As long as the individual ingredients are different enough, and roughly equal in intensity, whiteness emerges".  

What are the implications of finding such a thing as "olfactory white"? It might help shed more light on how we perceive and process olfactory information (as did the discovery of white light and white did for understanding seeing and hearing). But it might also have some functional implications for perfumers - which to most of us might seem rather obvious: not to put too many things that are too different and unrelated at all in the same perfume, as it can take away from creating a definite olfactory statement.

I'm wondering if the smell of everything, all at once is somewhat like a white noise. It sure is to me, in the mental meaning of the concept - it gives a sense of olfactory calm, with a nondescript mishmash of my workspace that permeates the air of my entire abode and makes me feel at east. Much more so than the "neutral" scent of an unscented home, a space that is devoid of any personality.

How would you imagine a "white scent" to be? Leave a comment and enter to win a decant of No. 18 from Chanel's Les Exclusifs collection.
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