“Je ferai fleurir les pierres et chanter les oiseaux”
(I will let the rocks bloom and the birds sing)

I’ve never really got around to tell you what I did after the rose fields. I will now.

The taxi picked me up from the gate of GIP. It was driven by a lady shauffer, and as soon as I’ve given her the address, she jumped out of the taxi to ask another driver for advice on the route – revealing an attire that most women I know would reserve for a night at the concert hall listening to chamber music or contemplative choir pieces: a black buttoned shirt and a silver brocade skirt with a floral pattern.

On the way I have to admit, I was getting a little nervous. I was about to meet someone whose work and knowledge I admired greatly.

We drove to Carbis, about 20 mintues away from Grasse (traffic permitting) and she pulled off the freeway. There it was, and a metallic art-nuveau sign confirmed I was in the right place. It read: “Atelier Art et Parfum”.

I was a little early for my meeting and the place seemed so quiet it almost seemed as if its inhabitants were having a siesta. I finally found the courage to knock on a little door that had an office sign on it and a lady opened it and told me quietly that Michel will meet me shortly. I noticed an olive tree near the building. I pulled out my camera and than and there my battery, which struggled with death for a few days now finally gave in. This photo you see above is the last of them, which is great – because this way I could focus my attention entirely on my real senses without the camera to “remember” instead of me. Besides – Michel is a far more talented photographer than I, and have captured the beautiful garden that his father has planted and you can find his photographs online.

Now, Michel came down the stairs from the top floor of the Atelier. He was tall and pensive, just like the olive tree I didn’t take photo of, and was just as kind in person as he always seemed in his correspondence and photographs. We walked down the road and a lower level on the other side of the building revealed a lab full of bottles and drums of raw materials; and below it was the garden.

The garden was like no other garden in the world. Parts of it looked like a Japanese garden, and other parts like an the exterior of an Italian villa. The most magical point though, was standing right in front of a little patch of green leaves, which I knew right away were those of lily of the valley. Seeing them, even after the blossoms dried out, made my heart skip a beat.

The flowers were all gone (it was already the middle of May, and these plants need the most tender weather conditions to bloom – it was already too dry by then…). Nevertheless, there was nothing quite more powerful than staring at the patch of green leaves where Edmond Roudnitska planted while he was creating Diorissimo – which was the perfume I worn on my wedding day and one of the very first perfumes I’ve worn. It is told that he would crouch to the ground to study the scent of the flowers in their real surrounding – the dirt, leaves, moss and rocks on the ground… And there I am, standing next to no other then Michel Roudnitska, an accomplished visual and olfactory artist that continued his father’s yet has his very own, unique voice both artistically and from a perfumery point of view.

After we walked around the garden and saw the view of Grasse from Cabris, we went upstairs into the atelier, and sat on the balcony sipping orange juice and discussing what most concerned European perfumers at the time, and the rest of the world would suffer from after – the takeover of our art form by the EU beaurocracy, IFRA and the like. It is so sad to think that oils such as bergamot and oakmoss can no longer smell true to themselves after removing the “allergenic” molecule in them, which are an important part of their odour profile. With all the heaviness of the issue, it was clear to me that although this could make continuing the use of many beautiful natural raw materials in commercial perfumes, the human need to adorn themselves and their environment with pure, beautiful scents will continue, and while the legalities of it may become more complex and cumbersome, people will continue to want to smell good and connect with nature through her smells as they did for thousands of years.

On the mention of Michel’s artwork combining perfume with film, Michel spontaneously offered to screen some of them just for me. We walked to his home, which is right next door to the atelier and facing the beautiful Italian pond and sculpture. On the coffee table there just happen to be a few scent strips with a perfume in progress, which was beautiful, and had a dominant immortelle note (it was in Grasse that immortelle all of a sudden showed its versatile, albeit stubborn side to me, i.e. – beyond maple syrup). And that was also when I first got to smell Eau Emotionelle – a bold, beautiful jasmine contrasted with juicy cantaloupe and delicate violet petals. While preparing for the screening, Michel was also telling me about the vigorous perfumery training that he underwent with his father.

And then the private movie screening began… Michel was both the projector man and the senteur of his own creations. I was shown three pieces out of his 8 short films that make Un Monde En Senteurs (Wolrd Scents), each accompanied by a perfume that is misted in intervals into the atmosphere of the theatre (in this case – Michel’s study within his own home).
http://www.art-et-parfum.com/mondensenteurus.htm
I’ve been fortunate enough to be shown three amazing pieces:
Pangaea – Creation of the World Aboriginal Culture, which was showing imagery of Australia’s nature and aboriginal people, and was scented by a completely natural perfumer that was made entirely of plant essences native to Australia, such as eucalyptus, fire tree and what smelled to me like Buddha wood. I’m no eucalyptus fan, and this film and perfume alone made me not only intrigued by this strange, medicinal plant, but also curious for the first time about Australia’s nature and culture. It was so touching to experience both the scent and the visuals, as well as emotionally charged music (composed by Nathalie Manser).

The second film was called Aquarium – and was visually focused on the Polynesian lagoons and underwater life, beginning with what looked like a perfectly shaped shimmering pearl, and had beautiful flowing movement of dolphins throughout it. The scent for this was dominated by calone and coconut and I have to admit I did not feel too well smelling it and starting coughing a bit… The fragrance is described as “Salty sea-mist on the reefs and dried coprah in the coconut grove” on Atelier Art et Parfum’s website.

The third chapter in the world’s scented story was called Cherokee – and was about the Native Americans in North America. While I expected smoking sage, cedar and sweetgass, It smelled very incensey, rich woody and a little smoky - described as Cedar forests, tujas and tanned hides (Beaver, bear, buffalo).

And like all wonderful things, the visit came to an end with this vignette, and Michel drove me back to Grasse to my hotel and the next day I was back in school “as usual” but felt inspired for months to come.

My visit to Grasse seemed to be in a perfect timing: not only is it the rose harvest season (which only lasts 3 weeks), but also that week was the week of Expo Rose – a rose show with rose experts and growers from around the world showcasing incredible hybrids of fragrant and colourful roses.


The English roses were particularly impressive, with hundreds of petals condensed and arranged in such a stylized way as to resemble flowers made out of rolled crepe paper or metallic Art Nuveau sculptures.

And of course there were many vendors outside selling anything from rose jewelry and accessories to rosewater, rose wine, rose petal jams, soaps and so on. A little word of warning though: not everything that tastes like flowers in Grasse is high quality. In fact, I was barely able to swallow two bites of a crepe filled with mimosa-flavoured confiture. It was horrible. And so were the flower-flavoured seeds at the end of the meal in the local Indian restaurant. Both tasted like platic (for reference: if you’ve ever tasted a fragrance oil accidentally, that was the effect). One must be careful and stick to the authentic rosewater and orange flower water when visiting this overtly perfumed town…



In this blog entry are just some photos of how the city centre looked like May 21 - 24. And the city’s businesses, shops, museums and restaurants all had rose petals decorate the tables or reception area. At the end of the day, the street grounds were dotted with rose petals too. Quite a sight!

Rose petals in a water-fountain. How very luxuriuous!




Terracotta coloured rose. Never seen a colour like this (but it's really difficult to transfer through the camera).

English Roses
Fake rose trees that decorate the little alleys, staricases and passages in Old Grasse (aka downtown/city centre).

La Bastide du Parfumeur is a conservatory and a botanical garden nestled between Grasse and Cannes, that has opened just recently - in 2007.

This is an unusual botanical garden. Expect none of the manicured and controlled French garden like those in Paris. What you’ll find here is a wild paradise of fragrant plants and flowers, arrange visually like one beautiful meadow that spills from the hills with endless surprises of unusually fragrant plants (most of which are famous for their use in perfumery, others less known or exotic – such as Seringat and Hymmemosporum). And between them grow in careless abandon unlabeled roses of surprising colours as well as wild oats and other weeds. The beauty of the place is breathtakingly unconventional. And it is arranged according to odour, a classification quite unusual for any garden. You’lld find rustic signs for vanillic notes, woody notes, citrus notes, herbaceous notes, spicy notes and so forth.

The list of sponsors is impressive on its own right (including perfumers such as Le Cristophs for examples), and also from talking to the gardeners I understand that Michel Roudnitska played a key role there in consulting about what plants to use and how to group them together.

Where to find it: 979 chemin des gourettes-06370 Mouans-Sartoux Tél : 04 92 98 92 69

Below are just some of the highlights to hold you over until you go there. Because you must do that.


The garden begins with mint groves that smell more impressive than they look. The Japanese mint is especially green, crisp and sweet and with hardly any camphoreous menthol aspects. And some are more sharp and strange than others. The picture above is of Bergamote Mint, which smells convincingly of bergamote. I'm guessing its the result of high presence of Linalyl acetate.


Next come some spicy and woody notes (I was happy to find Zantoxylum in the raw living form for the first time).
Other beautiful spicy notes belong to the many carnations the trimmed the plots, both pink and white (I spotted 3 types but all photos of one of the fuller-petaled pink ones turned only blurry).


The garden of white flowers included jasmine (not in bloom at the time visited), star jasmine and white roses.

I haven't spotted any plants around the Vanilla notes area, rigth next to the canal at the centre of the garden and across from the white florals - but this sign will give you an idea of how the garden was arranged. Each section had a note category stated by a sign that looked like this:

The fruity notes included sweet juicy strawberry, loquat and Ananas Sage, which is very unusual and mouthwatering with its pineapple-like notes. Of course I couldn't help myself and had a little picnic.




After fruity comes floral...





I really liked how the iris was planted right next to the acacia garden. There are common characteristics for these two notes - powdery, woody and floral and cool. There was only one bush in bloom, since the mimosa season in Grasse is January-February.

This is Seringat, a bush I'm unfamiliar with and am at loss describing its scent. It was floral and a little fruity - perhaps peachy - but I can't remember being able to come up with any other adjectives.




Next come the herbaceous notes, and there are plenty: rosemary, helicrysum, lavender, sage, clary sage, Roman chamomile, etc. and many types of pelargonium, including this strange looking one, Eucaliptus scented pelargonium and one that didn't have a sign and smelled intensely of animalic musk.



This particular helicrysum really smells like curry more than others.

I was surprised at how soft this dangerous plant smells. Sweet and almost coumarin like, despite all the thujone.

Roman chamomile, of course!

The aquaduct is at the centre of the garden and brings a powerful visual element of freshness and coolness, even though the water is neither good for drinking nor for bathing. You have to experience the heat of that Cote d'Azur day to understand it fully...

Notes Hesperide, which is French for citrus notes - here are bitter orange trees with lemon verbena in the space between them. Across from there is a plot with melissa (lemon balm) and lemongrass.
This exotic Australian tree was planted right next to the citrus plants, although it smelled more like a mixture of ylang ylang gand vanilla. There were also many fragrant pittosporums around this area, so judging by the plant's family, this must be the connecting reason. Or perhaps the orange blossom like aroma of some pittosporum blossoms. There is no mention of pittosporum on the garden's map.

Going down to the left side of the garden, there are open fields, less structure, and many wild flowers. I pass by sitting spots, some look sureal and all very beautiful - my favourite being two chairs in the middle of a lavender field. There is one plot for Jasmine (not blooming now), lavender fields and more herbaceous fields including more curry plants, sage and rose geranium. The garden ends with two large plots for Rose de Grasse (Rosa centifolia, aka Rose de Mai), and many wild poppies in pink and red.