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Sweet Spring Sap


Mystery tree that gives off a sweet, balsamic fragrance reminiscent of vanilla, cured tobacco and labdanum. It took me as long as several years to identify the source of this heavenly, unmistakable smell... It is hidden, because it comes not from flowers, but from the resin surrounding the budding leaves, which first appear in spring on the completely barren trees. Sources of smell are varied and many, and somehow, even though black current buds are a known fragrance material, it just did not occur to me that this sweet smell is coming from yet to be opened buds.

An attempt at tincturing the fragrant new leaves.


Black cottonwood buds. Sticky, fragrant - very close to balsam poplar buds absolute.

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.


Marriage of Life and Death

Earlier this winter, as I went deeper into the forest trails, my eyes met with a devastating sight. After several days of rain and wind storms, two beautiful, tall and rather ancient Douglas fir trees (well over 200 years in my estimate, although this is probably young in fir years) were uprooted and simply flipped over. It's a sad sight, and one that literally pierced my heart and brought tears to my eyes. The air around the trees was filled with their tragedy, and I heard their screams and shrieks of pain from being uprooted and losing their life-giving connection to the earth.

Here is the strange thing about an ancient fallen tree: it dies a slow painful death. Perhaps even move the course of several weeks when in such moist conditions that as the rainforest. Maybe it's not that slow in tree years, but it sure seemed prolonged to me, as I was walking by the same trail several weeks in a row, and still saw signs of life in these two fierce yet fallen giants.

First the roots alone feel the change: they are accustomed to life of darkness and the cold yet nutritious moisture of the earth. All of a sudden they are exposed to the foreign presence of air and light. The tree's equivalent of nervous system must have felt the pain of the roots as they leave the ground and disconnect from the smaller rootlets, and the shock along the tree's spine as it hit the ground. Over the next few days, if not weeks, the tree's storage of moisture will get used up, perhaps slower than before. The roots will attempt to cling to any moisture they reach from the damp rainforest air, but circumstances are largely not in their favour.

I get closer to the tree. Touch its rain-soaked bark. Feel the tremendous pain its in. The tree that once had stood so proud and high above all creatures is now lying horizontally. I can feel its pulse, weak, trembling but still there. I pat the damp moss on the base of its bark and on the formerly superficial portion of its root system. What about all the lesser life forms on the tree? Did they notice the change? Are they worried about their future? Perhaps not. The tree's body will nourish these fungi, fern, lichens and moss strands for countless years to come. And water is present in abundance for these plants from prehistoric kingdoms.

And this is how life meets death. Or perhaps the other way around - death is the one that greets life and reaches out to it. In the rainforest the coexistence of these two opposites is the most obvious, natural. And if it weren't for the drama and tragedy of the storm, those two states of being just weave in and out of each other seamlessly. The trees took about four weeks to use up their water, shut down their entire systems of livelihood, and say their farewells to the world as they lay horizontally and stare at the barren skies through the space their missing canopy left behind. After checking their plus this weekend, I am pretty sure that they are now among the dead. Not only are the needles no longer green, many have already began falling to the ground. And there is something you cannot see, but only feel, that tells me they are now just inanimate objects, vegetal corpses providing nutrients to the new generation of trees, bushes, housing birds and squirrels, bugs and microorganisms that will take many years to penetrate the strong essential oils in the heartwood to completely break it down. It will become, eventually, part of the soil and part of the root system of those new plants and create an intricate piece of the rainforest ever changing landscape. 


We humans are strange creatures. Life should be life; and death should be plain and simple, cut and dry. But how many of us live in a state of a dream (or a nightmare) and constantly attempt to escape the present moment? How much of our lives we wish we were somewhere else than where we are, and be someone else - or be with somebody else than the people and creatures that are present in our lives? I am beginning to think that constant discontent with the present moment is the root of all illnesses. That and the lack of gratitude to what IS in our lives, what is present, what we "have" so to speak (at the end of the day, I don't believe ownership truly amounts to much). That obsession of what would happen next - after we finish work, or after we finish resting; after we finish living, or once we stop dying. This mindset is so futile, counter-productive and ultimately shows very little gratitude. We should be thankful every moment that we are alive, and literally, live up to what that entails. 

Reflections on a Year Gone By



It's the last day of the year, which means that it's legitimate to look back and reflect on yet another year that has gone by. On a personal level, it was a great year (considering 2013 was a year from hell,  even though I didn't quite put it that way publicly - this is not exactly surprising).
On a global level, however, in 2014 it seems like all hell has broken loose and the only reason we don't think of ourselves as in the midst of a 3rd world war is probably because no one is brave enough to call it what it is. But I digress. You're not visiting this blog to be reminded of what kind of an awful world we live in. You are more likely here searching for refuge from all those realistic nightmares.

Well, a lot of good things happened in the world of scent; most of them I was too oblivious to notice or pay attention to so you won't be finding too many surprises in my "list" for the fragrant highlights of 2014.

This year I was absorbed in recovery from the awful year prior, and with a renewed boost of energy, I've been tackling all fronts of my business - trying to reach out and teach classes and courses in more places, re-doing a website, narrowing my collection, writing a book, and teaching a lot. All those things, which in the year prior seemed to have a big question mark hovering over them, have found a new meaning in my life and a new sense of excitement and purpose which in the year prior I was really worried will never return to me. But I've been also integrating a lot of my passions and knowledge and experience (both gruesome and positive) leading to a new direction that I feel serves a higher purpose. It will all unfold and make sense as I progress in my studies, art and life experiences. One big thing that occupied me personally and was part of what some like to call "personal growth" has been learning to become a Pilates instructor. I know this seems completely unrelated to perfumery for an outside observer. But to me all those things - working with breath, body, awareness and within the flow and rhythm of life - are all part of the same thing for me. And I don't believe I was born to do just one thing. With that being said, I'm now able to be much more focused, with a much clearer sense of priorities and

Year of the Book: 
This year was dedicated to completing my book, which was in the works (AKA planning and procrastinating, and dreading the intense process that writing a book involves). Somehow, despite the fact that I lost nearly 2 months of work due to the teacher's strike, not to mention many nights of sleep of the yet-another-unnecessary war in Israel and Palestine - I was able to finish it. And I want to thank once again all the people who were involved in the process: Terry Sunderland, graphic designer extraordinaire, Shauna Rudd, superb copy editor and proofreader, Schuyler Corry, proofreader and contributor of some of the chemistry terms in the glossary; and David Shumaker for proofreading some 3 years ago when I started working on this 3rd edition of the book; and last but not least to the Taly and Yitzhak Ginsberg, who thanks to them I actually went ahead with being self-published as well as for pointing me to the right direction to turn my manuscript into a eBook (you'll hear about that soon enough).
Thank you so much for helping me make my dream come true and become a published author!

And - More Books:
This has been a great year for perfume related books. I've mentioned two of them here, the anthology of scented poems The Book of Scented Things, edited by Jehanne Dubrow and Lindsay Lusby; and Mandy Aftel's new book Fragrant. There is always more to learn, and it's wonderful to see more books published that pertain to the world of scent. It's all part of keeping this rare art alive!

New Perfume Love: 
Au Delà - Narcisse des Montagnes by Bruno Fazzolari.
This limited edition "flanker" of sorts to the perfume Au Delà is even more beautiful than the original. I will write about it in more depth in the coming week - a beautiful ambery floral with Chypre nuances, that was accompanied by a breathtaking screen print, signed by the artist.

Mainstream Surprise: 
Narciso by Narciso Rodriguez
While I can't say I thoroughly tested even a fraction of the many mainstream perfumes released this year to justifiably crown this the "best" of the year - I did purchase a bottle, and it did not feel like it was a whim at the time. This perfume is full of surprises, much more than the original scent from this brand. In all aspects of design (including packaging) there is elegant simplicity in this release, yet intrigue and originality. It's been a while since I was able to say that about any department store fragrance.

Vintage Discovery: 
Diorella. What a delight to have found a 220 mL (!) of the original, vintage Diorella on a certain auction site. I've been splashing it lavishly in the summer, and looking forward to much more of the same as soon as the spring bulbs and buds begin to open again.

The 180: 
Aromatics Elixir
If you haven't seen much new perfume reviews on my blog, it's because I've been dousing myself quite regularly with this (previously under appreciated by me) bombshell. I used to think of it as way too strong. It wasn't until I blind-purchased a bottle of the Perfumer's Reserve (also via the above mentioned auction site), and discovered to my horror that there's far too much white musk in it; that I just HAD to re-examine the original. I only purchased a tiny spray bottle of it, but a little is all you need, and goes a looong way. There is something about that

Thank You Hermes For Not Disappointing: 
First of all, Epice Marine FINALLY arrived in the Vancouver boutique many months after it should have. And I did enjoy it quite a bit (yet not quite enough yet to purchase a bottle). Cuir d'Ange, on the other hand, arrived in time (or maybe it didn't, but I didn't really expect it), and turns to be a very interesting sheer leather. Samples are still unavailable which is why I haven't written a review yet. It's not earth shattering, but I'm always happy to welcome a new leather kid into my world.

Natural Intrigue: 
Palimpset by Aftelier. There are many offerings in the natural world that I am yet to try. But I was immediately smitten with both Cuir Gardenia and Palimpset, the two new creations of this year by Mandy Aftel. While I'm more likely to wear Cuir Gardenia frequently - Palimpset is the more original, intriguing and unusual. Built around the rare, unusual and difficult to work with Fire Tree oil from Australia - it has an outstanding longevity (I believe the sample I received from Aftelier is the parfum concentration in alcohol base). The opening is very effervescent and citrusy, almost like wild orange, sweetly fruity but not overtly so - then continues to develop into an utterly floral yet woody perfume, with the Fire Tree note weaves in and out while being supported. It's exotic and wonderful. I just received it yesterday, and am planning to post full review of this (and Cuir Gardenia) in the upcoming days.

Incense: 
The new incense cones by Persephenie.
They come in several fragrances, and all burn fantastically well, without leaving any "off note". Original blends, yet with a very strong connection to spiritual rituals from around the world. They are beautifully hand-shaped, and rolled in an outer coating of herbs that adds a visual element to the experience, rich in both colour and texture.

Tea: 
Those who know me well, are concerned about my ever-expanding collections of teas, spices, perfumes, cookbooks, and of course raw materials. Well, this year I have been pretty good about finishing up a lot of the teas I have and narrowing down my favourites to a more workable and manageable scenario (for the sake of my kitchen counter and shelves). Although I won't pretend I don't have excess of teas still, and need to run out of a lot before purchasing anything new; I am quite proud to say I know which teas I love and I am happy to just keep drinking a handful of them and stop feeling the urge to collect them. Some things lend themselves very badly to collecting, and tea is one of them. They just lose flavour after a while... I'm proud to announce, that as long as I have one good black tea (darjeeling, Assam or a cask-aged Ghorka, for instance - for versatile use anywhere from plain black tea, to that adorned with fresh sprigs of mint, or ensembles into a chai), Cream Earl Grey, and either a robust rooibos or a Thai Tea for its almost coconutty aroma, some kind of a good quality green tea (i.e. matcha powder or jasmine) and a Milky Oolong - I'm pretty happy. That's not a lot, right? Of course I also have a kid with her own favourites, usually flavoured teas or a green tea. But that's just extra fun. With a little help from our friends,  I think we're going to have a pretty clear tea shelf by the end of 2015. But in all honesty, what we've been drinking almost every other morning has been chai in a base of almond milk. We make it very simple, because there is no time in the morning to blend too many spices - just some black tea, some cardamom and cinnamon, freshly diced ginger and honey. Blame it on my daughter. It's her idea.

Sweet Tooth:
Persephenie's Salty Jasmine Candies, and my own Oud Truffles, if I may say so myself.

Skincare Product:
It's a well known "secret" that I'm a sucker for anything rosy smelling on my face. My skincare regime is as simple as could be, and includes only two products: floral hydrosol (usually rose, or orange blossom) spritzed on the face, followed by a moisturizer - usually just my own facial elixir. Everyone once in a while I make an exception - but it has to be for something exceptional. Usually it's Persephenie's excellent Rose Pakka. This year I was ogling her new offering for the face - Saffron Rose Face Oil, which is a pure and nourishing facial serum. The makeup of oils shares some common elements with my Elixir (tea seed oil, sea buckthorn oil, carrot seed and rose oils) and the rest is all sheer goodness, as always with Persephenie's creations. I've received it in the mail today and it did not disappoint. It's practically the facial version of my Song of Songs anointing body oil. I'm in a facial New Year's heaven!

Body Product:
Bedouin dry oil by Persephenie. All of Persephenie's body products are top-notch. Bedouin was my favourite scent by Persephenie, but is no longer in production. That's why it was particularly delightful to find out that it is now available as a dry oil - a very lightweight, sheer oil that can be sprayed on either body or hair. Roses and cardamom. Mmm...

Discovery of the Year:
Dabney Rose's extraits and pommades are nothing short of magic. I've experienced her hyacinth extrait, tuberose pommade and ginger lily pommade (the latter are made in a coconut oil base) - all grown in her own garden and hothouse. These beautifully and lovingly crafted pure single note essences are made in the old technique of enfleruage, modernized by an innovative vegan base. Dabney's work is akin to capturing butterflies inside hot resin and keeping them alive and intact even after they've exhaled their last breath... It may sound too good to be true... But it is the most truthful portrait of the living flower if there ever was one.  In other words: alchemy at its best.

Raw Material of the Year: 
Narcissus Absolute. I've been obsessing over it while creating Narkiss, and (great minds think alike!) in Bruno Fazzolari's newest perfume.
Need I say more?



Darkness



My apartment is poorly lit. And even more so after the living room light got killed. The problem intensified with my laptop crashing - thus taking away the moth-like lifestyle of gathering around the screen at night. Therefore it was no surprise that I particularly welcomed the candle lighting during the holiday of Chanukah. The ritual daily candle lighting have stuck with us in this dark cave. And now every night I light candles around that time - scented candles, tea lights - whatever I can get my hands on - and me and my daughter sit and play games together by the fireplace.

Yet if you think of it, darkness is a precious thing in this day and age. It is nearly impossible to find natural darkness nowadays. As civilization we've defied the natural cycle of night and day. Cities pride themselves for being "nonstop cities". And our brains never shut down - which opens a whole other can of worms, as this situation has a profound effect on our health.

Like quiet, or being unplugged, darkness has become a luxury people are willing to spend large sums of money on to experience, in the form of "darkness retreat".

The value of darkness is also a design concept, in mediums such as architecture, cinema and photography. What would be the equivalent of that in the world of scent? A scentless world? Such a thing does not exist. And too few people know it. While I don't mind at all the fact that most object, animate and inanimate, have a unique odour - our world is cluttered with artificial scents. And that clutter threatens to take away the pleasure of perfume, be it a luxury or a commodity or an art form. With sensory overload in all areas - sound, scent and light - it's surprising that we haven't left the room screaming so to speak. Or have we?

But what I really wanted to get at with this post, was in fact the heightened sensory awareness, both tactile, auditory, olfactory and kinaesthetic, when immersed in darkness. As I walked my daughter back from the "Bright Nights" miniature train in Stanley Park a couple of weeks ago, we made a detour home through a portion of the forest. It was the very end of the moon cycle. There was so little light that you could almost feel the darkness with your fingers. It took a few minutes getting used to and being able to see the paths (especially after the brightness of the festive lights). It was not the first time I walked in the forest in the dark, and I know the paths like the back of my hands (so no risk of getting lost). The feeling of walking in complete darkness, when you don't have any fear or paranoia of the situation, and especially in the well-organized paths of Stanley Park, where tripping is very unlikely - is nothing short of magic.

I remember the first time we did it (which was actually at the end of the summer, or sometime earlier in the fall, when it was still rather warm at night). The air was immersed with scent. My only awareness when walking was the smell and temperature in the air. You could recognize the trees as you walk under them - here is a Douglas fir... Now it's a cedar... now it's a bit cooler, and I smell wet wood and the mushroomy scent of the forest... and then there is that dry, warmish smell of tree bark and dry needless. The scent hit you like a familiar recognition of an old friend. You should try it sometime, if you can.
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