s

SmellyBlog

Smoky Narcissus

Narkiss

Wild narcissus (N. tazetta) and paperweights (N. 'Chinese Sacred Lily') are growing in my soon-to-be garden and in the mountainous wilderness that is its backyard. The wild one smells a thousand times better, in my humble opinion.... Especially, I've been haunted by its fragrance at night time, mingled with smoke from all the wood stoves used for heating in the village... Smells like a very fancy, smoky-floral beeswax candle burning. Not that this description does it any justice. I wish I could capture it in a perfume. Narkiss has some of the qualities (herbaceous, waxy-animalic) but as always, nature beats us all perfumers to a pulp. Other perfumes along these lines that I recall are Tom Ford's Velvet Gardenia and Shanghai Lily (I must remember to scout a sample size of that soon). Caron's famous Narcisse Noir also belongs to this territory, albeit it's much more aldehyde-heavy and it also has gasoline-like top-notes. Another scent it reminds me is of some of the Feu de Bois candle by Dyptique.

Those surprising moments when you discover a new yet familiar scent in the natural surroundings, truly are the best.

Return to Sea

Return to Sea

Shana Tova uMetuka to everyone who's celebrating. I've been up to my ears in adjustment mode and taking care of little details to start our new life here that my celebrations have been restricted to the Rosh HaShanna dinner. Otherwise most days just seem to continue merging into one another in one endless loop of tasks that remain undone and problems that are still unresolved. I know I should give myself a break (moving homes alone is one of the most stressful life events, and immigration amplifies this a hundred fold)  - but I have major responsibilities and there are some things I'm absolutely unwilling to compromise about (such as my child's health and well-being, at any age really).

This is a time for new beginnings, and that means a lot of letting go. Before I left Vancouver I returned all the shells I collected over the years to the ocean. To me this was a symbolic way of giving thanks to nature, and the Salish Sea in particular, which gave me much needed comfort throughout the years. The conception of so many ideas - and perfumes - happened to me as I walked along the seawall, in varying weather conditions and lighting degrees. The water helps me reflect on my life and recollect my thoughts. The fresh salty air around the water cleared not only my lungs but also the mind.

I'm thankful for being able to see the Mediterranean from where I live, and  that it is only a 20 minutes drive away. I've never seen a sea I did not like, and returning to my childhood's beaches is one of the most blissful part of this move (on par with my nephews and nieces' enthusiastic welcome and the fact that they remember us even though we didn't visit for a year and a half).

There is a strip of wild sand dunes and lagoons of the northernmost beach spanning all the way from Banana Beach to Rosh HaNikra/Ras El Nakura  - the grottos which are right on the border with Lebanon. I'm curious to see how it behaves throughout the seasons and the sea's mood cycles. There is plenty of wild life there, both in the water and along the shore - fragrant beach lilies included. I'm looking forward to being able to swim and enjoy the sea and its salty water almost year-around (it gets only as cold as the summer temperatures of the Pacific in wintertime; but it's also most stormy then). I can't wait to see what inspirations these waves will bring me.

Dew


T'filat Tal (Blessing/Prayer for Dew) is a beautiful Jewish prayer that is said only once a year, on the first day of Passover (the morning after Leyl HaSeder). From this point on, the daily prayer for rain is replaced with prayer for dew.

I first heard this poetic prayer last Saturday and was truly moved by its beauty. It is one of those rare Jewish prayers that actually rhymes, and therefore has inspired a number of musical interpretations by various Hazanim (cantors). One of which is the classical historic recording you can listen to in the YouTube clip below (Cantor Yosef "Yossele" Rosenblatt). Both the Tal and Geshem (rain) prayers were written by Rabbi Eleazar Ha-Kallir in the 7th Century. 


I was thinking about this prayer all week. Not only because it is beautiful and timely, but also because it made me think of perfume. Perhaps because of Youth Dew. But also because somehow the prayer made me think of the little droplets of dew on leaves, and that alone is scent-evoking. Then there are dew drops on flowers, collecting in the little demitasse of wild flowers and between the folds of roses and lilies. 

In John Ruskin's "The King of the Golden River", the youngest brother is the one that was able to turn the river into gold because of the kindness of his heart: even though he was shared all his water with the thirsty creatures along his path - there was one dew drop in a lily that grew by the river. And that single drop was so pure, reflecting the boy's selflessness and generosity of spirit - that he was spared the destiny of turning into a rock like his crass older brothers. 

I searched in Basenotes to find out if there are more perfumes with the word "Dew" in them and found them to be surprisingly abundant. From the obvious Youth Dew and its flanker Youth Dew Amber Nude to silly novelties such a the fruity variations on Honeydew Melon (there's also a Honeydew from Dragonfly Blue) and The Body Shop's Dewberry to Demeter's Fragrance Library's Mildew (oops!); and onwards to more romantic names such as Dew Blossom (Love & Toast), Almond Blossom Dew (L'Occitane), seasonal references (The Body Shop's Winter Dew and Oscar de la Renta's Summer Dew) and cliche names such as Meadow Dew and Morning Dew (both by Alyssa Ashley and Annie Oakley). Out of all these names perhaps the only one I am intrigued to try is Montale's Dew Musk

So I was trying to think about three things: Why is dew important? How is it different from rain? And lastly - what perfumes remind me of dew?

First of all, keep in mind that the seasonality of rain versus dew is entirely based on the agricultural needs in the Holy Land - where the rainfall is crucial for livelihood of both people and livestock. Also, in the Omer season (the wheat harvest season - from Passover to Shavuot), it would be a curse to have rain falling as it would spoil the wheat harvest, which needs to dry completely in order to be harvested and stored properly. So any precipitation from Passover till Shmini Atzeret (the last day of Sukkot) needs to be gentle and mild.

According to this article about the Tfilat Tal, dew is the water that the heaven provides as a blessing of abundance to the plant life. Therefore absence of dew is considered drought, and a curse. This is demonstrated by the fact that the valley of Harod (near the Gilboa in Israel) has little dew.  This is the mountain upon which King Saul and his son Yehonata have lost their lives. In his mourning, King David has cursed this mountain to not receive neither rain nor dew (Samuel II, 1:21).

As for the scent of dew - in my mind I associate it with nectar, tiny flowers, green tender leaves and all delicate things. Dew is what gives a garden in the morning its enticing, fresh and crisp yet delicate scent. In all my years collecting answers from readers and customers to what their favourite scents are, this "garden in the morning" is one of the most high ranking answers.



Living in a climate where there is rain in the summer takes away from the surprising effect of experiencing dew. Growing up in Israel, dew was shocking to find time and again when waking up after a hot summer night and attending to the family's vegetable garden. The dew drops will disappear as soon as the sun hits a certain angle in the sky - not that long after rising. Even as early as 7:30 or 8am, you'll find none of it left. I will get wet up to my ankles and knees from the grass and like see it collecting on the unfolding cones of the morning glory vines. But for those early to rise, knowing that there is some precipitation to give the grass, vegetable and flowers - and especially the wild plants and the local fruit trees that don't require watering. All the typically Israeli trees: almond, olive, date, fig, pomegranate, carob - rely entirely on the gifts from heaven.

Dew takes its scent primarily from the plants it lands on. Tomato leaves will give it a funky odour, while sweet scented flowers will give it the taste of nectar. So it's really as versatile as all water: what it touches will transform it.

From my own existing creations, Bon Zai to me is a fragrance that captures the pure, tranquil feeling of early morning dew on pine needles and blades of grass. Likewise, many aquatic scents bring to mind dew, for example: l'Eau d'Issey. But neither are exactly dedicated to the concept of dew. In my early days in perfumery, I created a perfume called Coeli, which was first inspired by the dew on the herb garden in summer, which at this season was abundant with lush lemon verbena, melissa and lemongrass. It was obviously very citrusy at first. I later changed the scent into something entirely different, but still rather dewy. It did not fair very well, because I suppose it was not the bold, retro type of fragrance that my customers seem to be most fond of. It was far more modern woody-aquatic-floral type of scent. In the least few years I've worked on a scent inspired by Harbour Green Park (in Coal Harbour) - the scent of the dew-covered grass in the morning mingled with jet fuel and salty low-tide. Another scent that was also inspired by he same lemony herb garden was titled Clil (the name of my home village) but also had hay in it, which gave it a more bold presence. Perhaps it's time to go back to the drawing board with this scent and re-create my herbal tea garden once more.


Pittosporum & Rain

Pitosporum by FOTOGRAFIES CATA
Pitosporum, a photo by FOTOGRAFIES CATA on Flickr.
After our brief Portland encounter, we arrived in Berkeley in the late afternoon of Tuesday, March 19th.
The moment we got out of the rabbit hole and got out, three distinct realizations hit me:
First of all, it was raining, in California - which is a most profound cognitive dissonance for a Vancouverite (and what we supposedly hate the most when on vacation). I didn't only not mind this rain (which was soft, and slightly warm, at least in comparison to its relatives up north). I liked the smell of the rain, which we rarely actually get in Vancouver (where it rains about 90% of the year). Besides, I wasn't exactly on vacation. I had lots of work to do - and the lack of sun would make me feel less like I was missing out on fun.

Secondly, the street dwellers of Berkeley turned out to be the most colorful bunch, and far outweigh their brethren in Vancouver in most categories (except, perhaps, politeness). To prove my point: they were wearing war paints all over their face when we arrived, made probably from flower pollen and exotic spices.

Thirdly and lastly - the air smelled fantastic, and it wasn't just the rain hitting the dry pavement; and it wasn't laundromat either. I spent the remainder of my time trying to find out where the smell came from. And it turned out that the majority of Shattuck Avenue is lined with tall evergreen trees, whose blossoms release the most intoxicating aroma reminiscent of osmanthus, orange blossom and orchid.

A few days later, I learned from Bruno that those trees are non other than Pittosporum undulatum. I'm not sure which kind exactly, but they certainly grow tall, beautiful and fragrant - something you might want to consider when planning your garden!

Hiding from the Muse

Catching Fire by AmyJanelle
Catching Fire, a photo by AmyJanelle on Flickr.
יום אחד זה יקרה"
בלי שנרגיש, משהו ישתנה
משהו יגע בנו, משהו ירגע בנו
ולא יהיה ממה לחשוש.
(...)
וזה יבוא, אתה תראה
הידיים הקפוצות יתארכו
והלב השומר לא להיפגע יפעם בקצב רגיל
זה יבוא, כמו שהטבע רגיל
 ."להיות שלם עם עצמו
(Rita)
 
When does self-expression cross the lines and becomes kitsch? When does pathos stops moving us and becomes overbearing?

An artist is always on the tightrope, finding that balance between the too-much and the too-little. A hint, a glimpse, a beginning of a smile and the words that weren't said are often more important than what shows on the screen.

And sometimes a few minutes of genuine performance, truthful art can inspire you for weeks and give that "natural high"; a strong feeling of inspiration, leading to motivation, leading to the urge to express - create - do.

The relationship between an artist and his "muse" is complicated only if he is too caught up in a narcissistic chase for his own reflection in the lake. True inspiration comes from life, not from being chased (sorry, Jack London, I don't agree with you!).

The muse - or inspiration - is not a lover that needs to be chased or courted. It is the holy spirit that is always there, if we only let it come to us. It's not the muse who is avoiding contact - but the opposite: we are hiding from it; or worse - escaping it.



But that requires patience. Not waiting for the muse; but waiting for oneself to complete the cycle. Wait for the "dry spell" to pass. Because, in truth, there was never a dry season. There was only the time for the rain to collect and condense in the clouds. And when the clouds are filled to the brim, they will pour.

Just like Jonah hiding in the whale's belly, an artist might just need to hide for a while in the mundane, often times plagued by fears of impotence. Rather than fighting it, doing the hard work and fulfilling life's demands in the only cure for losing inspiration. In fact, it is the inspiration.

Back to the top