Lichen, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

Opposites do not only attract; they are also very similar. The musty, damp, rotting-wood scent of agarwood oil is precisely what makes it clean smelling. It's a strange olfactory paradox that I'm unable to explain.

I've created Bon Zai in 2001 as a custom scent to my ex-husband, who for no reason that I can explain, reminded me of Japanese garden. Bon Zai was meant to be minimalistic, woody and off-beat, like nothing else but at the same time with a sense of tranquility and purpose, harmony and balance like a bon sai tree in a zen garden with cool moss-covered rocks, flowing trails and trickling water; yet at the same time still evoke a very old tree at the top of a cliff.

Bon Zai was one of my very first perfumes and the skeleton for the formula was something that I found in Poucher's book called "Japanese Bouquet". I followed the formula similarly to how I follow recipes from a cookbook: I read it, imagine what it should be like, and try to make it ten times better.

The perfume you have recently experienced is different from the original 2001 creation because of a little transformation it went through just by adding two essences that characterize Japan's olfactory world: shiso and agarwood.

Shiso is a very strange herb that looks like small patchouli leaves (or large mint leaves), with serrated edges. It is one of the most finicky things to cook with, as it reacts very badly to heat: it looses all of its aroma. In Japanese cuisine, green shiso is eaten fresh, as a whole leaf to wrap sashimi, or thinly sliced to garnish cold soba noodles. There is also purple shiso, but that's another story...

What shiso did to the formula was transport the coniferous pine and juniper from the forest into the top of the mountain, where the air is clear and clean, and the forest is so healthy and pure that lichen grows on the wind-swept pines. It adds water and space to the wood, making it feel even more airy and light than it was ever before.

The agarwood adds a very subtle touch: the base otherwise has woody notes of sandalwood, vetiver and antique patchouli. The accent here is on the sandalwood though. Vetiver and patchouli in that particular context and ratio reads "woody" rather than "earth" or "dirt". The agarwood, although sharing some similarities with both sandalwood's precious woods and incense characters, and with the mustiness of vetiver and patchouli, goes all the way to the direction of pure smokeless incense. It's like a sheer veil of incense or the trail that a sandalwood fan leaves in its wake...

Kimono Sachets, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

From a Western point of view, Japanese don’t seem to be taken with perfume. At least not the way we define it. I’ve heard too many stories about the Japanese market, for example – the many unopened perfume flacons displayed in Japanese home as evidence that clearly Japanese are uninterested in fragrance and perhaps even to the extent of criticism - i.e.: Don’t judge a book by it’s cover.

However, preference for smaller objects (i.e.: 1/4oz flacon rather than a 5oz spray bottle) and appreciation for the flacon design should not be mistaken for dislike of aroma or inability to enjoy and appreciate scent. If anything, the Japanese have a history of designing unique containers for their scents – since Japanese traditional clothes had no pockets, they’ve designed inro for men - these were tiered boxes for storing small items such as incense and medicine; and silk sachets and kinchaku for the ladies, as well as beautiful lacquered boxes with intricate and stylized botanical designs for storing cosmetics and aromatics. Also, a special accessory was developed for the sole purpose of hanging the kimono in front of incense to scent it. Not to mention they have used scent to indicate the passing time with an incense clock!
These all indicate that aromatics - and especially natural ones - play an important role in Japanese culture and are much esteemed – and this is true for both the past and the present.

The reason for the Western misunderstanding of Japanese perfume-culture is two-fold: The physical form of perfumes enjoyed in Japan is different; and the scents themselves are far more subtle and gentle than Western perfumes – both commercial and historic.

While Western perfumery has evolved from incense into liquid perfumes (mostly alcohol base and recently also with other liquid bases such as oil or silicone), Japanese perfumery has remained mostly focused in the mostly raw materials – dry aromatics that emit their fragrance as they are (i.e.: sachets and powders) or when burnt (incense). This stands in line with the Japanese love for purity and perfection. As with any cultural differences – this can either be perceived as a technological disadvantage that limits the scent palette; or a point of difference that makes scent cultures across the world more interesting and makes traveling just a little more meaningful in this time of globalization where you can pretty much find anything anywhere.

Japanese seem to dislike the scent of alcohol (which could also explain the preference for parfum extrait - these formulations have less alcohol and more essence, thus reducing the impact of alcohol in the opening phase of the perfume). In addition, they are fortunate to have very little body odour and therefore don't feel the need to mask it as much as us Westerners are inclined to do.

As for the aromas themselves – similarly to the cuisine in Japan, Japanese perfumes (i.e.: incense, sachets and body incense powder) are subtle and use a more limited palette of aromatics. The most dominant component is woods: local woods such as cedar (Hiba) and pine (Hinoki) and the more exotic ones imported from the south – agarwood (Jin-koh) and sandalwood (Byaku-dan). Especially with the sandalwood and agarwood, there is much attention to grades – affected by how and where the trees were grown – so much that they have many different names (i.e.: Kyara is the name for the most prized grade of agarwood, which is the most rich and dark in aroma). Other significant aromatics in traditional Japanese perfumery are gum-resins such as borneol and camphor, myrrh, frankincense and benzoin; roots such as galangal (alpinia) and spikenard; patchouli leaves; and spices – cloves, cassia, cinnamon and star anise.

To truly appreciate the subtleties and slight difference between one incense or another, one must develop a sensitive nose; just like one’s palette has to be trained to truly understand and appreciate the art of tea and the subtle differences between one kind to another – after all, teas are all made from the exact same species!

The picture above is of sachets by Shoyeido incense company, sent to me by Yoko (she has been extremely generous and helpful in satisfying my Japanese olfactory culture curiosity!). They are for scenting Kimonos, and are usually tucked into the sleeves. This not only helps to make your kimono smell wonderful, but also helps keep away the silk-hungry moths. It smells spicy and camphoreous – but in a rich, luxurious way. In fact, it smells very much like a high quality carnation soap (which is one of my favourite things to tuck among my clothes); and smells nothing like moth-balls. There is an air of tranquility to all of the scents I’ve experienced from Japan. They smell like a dark room in an antique wooden house, and that’s how I imagine houses in Japan to smell like. There will be only one way to find out!

Japanese Stationary Sachet, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

My friend Yoko has surprised me yet again with a collection of Japanese olfactory items. In the one pictured above are sachets by Kousaido decorated with children-story illustrations that are especially made for scenting stationary.

In the past, scent played in important role in match-making in Japan. A woman would pick her mate judging her suitor’s personality by his words and the scent of the letter that carried them. This is before cameras, not to mention internet - and these two factors alone could either mean marriage or - never meeting the man at all.

Letters would be scented either with sachets, or more commonly - by waving the letter in front of the burning incense before sending it off. These particular sachets that Yoko sent me are not only pretty but also smell lovely. In an attempt to describe them I’ll say the smell like KenzoAmour Le Parfum but without the synthetic overpowering presence. If it was a perfume I would wear it now.

The notion of this romantic correspondence surely makes me want to go back to sending letters again - real ones with ink on paper. But I must admit: these beautiful stationary sachets are too pretty for my stationary (I have a strange interest in Asian stationary - from both Korea and Japan - but they are all way too juvenile for this scent).

Tune in tomorrow for more about the content of the package and other Japanese olfactory traditions.