The Secret Garden is a story of transformation. A British brat loses her absentee and negligent parents to cholera in colonial India, only to be transplanted to her uncle’s mysterious mansion in the Moors. The uncle is even more oblivious to her existence then her parents ever been, and the neglected, lonely and anti-social orphan wonders about until she discovers the legendary secret garden her uncle planted for his young beautiful wife before she passed away prematurely and left him bitter, aloof and resentful.

Through to this abandoned garden, the little orphan girl discovers beauty that heals her both physically and spiritually. She regains her ability to enjoy life, and her joie de vivre is so infectious that it brings light to the darkest corners of the castle, including her uncle’s battered heart.

Frances Hodgson Burnett wrote the novel in 1911, and a hundred years later, Mandy Aftel created a perfume in its honour. The magic bean when the little mini arrived in a dark silk pouch with ornate tapestry, reminiscent of climbing roses. Uncorking the tiny lid, a strange yet familiar smell rose to my nostrils, bringing forth the charm and intrigue of antique furnishing and colonial fabrics. It was not at all what I was expecting (an outdoorsy, floral yet earthy perfume) but rather – an intense, dusky and quirky Oriental - mysterious and surprisingly also quite old-fashioned.

From the first moment till the last, Secret Garden smells to me more of an indoors perfume. The scent that a person locked up in a secret room may be dreaming of if they’ve never smelled fresh air of a garden before. It’s the perfume they would sprinkle over red-painted thistle to imitate a living rose, only to wake up to the sound of a rusty key in the door that will announce the next hot meal. The perfume would be a condolence for their soul, wrapped in sleek silk and brocade cloths, yet trapped in a wheelchair and worse of all - social restrictions and prejudice.

Secret Garden parfum opens with spicy-warm and nutty notes of cloves and patchouli (although, the Aftelier website states that the spices are only “phantoms” – illusions that arise from the mingling of the other notes) and a robust, rounded berry and fruity notes of raspberry jam, blood orange juice and antique roses. The spicy aspect of roses is intensified with the presence of patchouli and greenish geraniol (an intensely rosy-smelling isolate – present in both rose and geranium). Dark castoreum further intensifies the spicy impression, but with such depth and quirkiness redolent of old crackled leather armchairs that you’d find in a dark study of an old English house.

Indole – from both jasmine and civet – is another important component in this perfume, adding to the jam-like qualities of the raspberry and blending seamlessly with the other elements, which include elusive blue lotus (which has a sheer, watery quality that is out of this world). The indole is played very quietly though, more of a thread through the perfume rather than a definite presence. The perfume fades quietly and slowly, in an elongated diminuendo distributed evenly between its components, though the last to depart is in fact the raspberry, and sweet-powdery vanilla absolute.

Top: Bergamot, Bois de Rose, Geraniol, Blood Orange.
Heart: Jasmine Sambac, Raspberry, Turkish rose, Blue Lotus.
Base: Civet, Castoreum, Vanilla, Deertongue, Benzoin, Aged Patchouli.

Shiso parfum is said to be based on a Geisha powdered-perfume formula (also known as “body incense”), and it certainly smells that way, only far more intense and medicinal. Shiso parfum smells immediately of mysterious, dark tea houses, where the accentuated facial features of expressionless pale-faced Geisha. The many layers of silk kimonos that enrobe these geishas, wrapped up in obis restrictive etiquette, were stored in protective camphor chests and smell of such. While there certainly is shiso oil in this perfume (that unusual Japanese herb that looks like a cross between basil and patchouli leaf and is used to wrap meats and sashimi has a complex aroma that is both green-herbal, powdery and spicy – very similar to cumin). But it could have also been called kusu no ki (camphor in Japanese) with a similar effect.

Other apparent notes are camphor, which reminded me instantly of a little bottle my aunt gave me eons ago of "Eucalyptus oil" that smelled too good to be just that. In Shiso parfum the medicinal, cool temperament of camphor gains a heady, perfumy edge as it's escorted by nasal screw pine (kewda) and fresh sophistication of green peppercorns. Rose petals are not quite easily made out, but they are there and just as soft as a young woman's cheek, slightly dusted with rouge.

Agarwood and antique sandalwood are essential for this perfume's aunthenticity as there is no incense or any Japanese perfume without either one component. Spices such as dry-warm cassia and eugenolic cloves, also make an appearance but they are all blended to a powdery, woody, herbal and spicy-warm concoction that it’s difficult to smell any note in particular besides the shiso, camphor and agarwood that realy stand out. This is exactly how I would have imagined the perfume that would emanate from a Geisha’s kimono sleeves, white-washed skin and artfully-made-hair as she tiptoes by with frozen expression floating atop skyscraping Geta.

Top notes: Camphor, green pepper, kewda
Heart notes: Rose, shiso, antique cloves
Base notes: Agarwood, vintage patchouli, cassia bark, antique sandalwood

Ahh, in places like LA and Tel Aviv, rain has a romantic air about it… Connotation of mystery, beauty and even its scent is something to look forward to. Needless to say, in rain-soaked cities like Vancouver, Portland and Seattle – it’s the sun we’re after, and the most sunful, even if dreadfully dry, is most desirable and gets those dreamy looks of mention from its inhabitants. Tell a Vancouverite that you’re going away to a desert island, and they’ll get all envious and dreamy-eyed. Tell someone in Tel Aviv or Los Angeles that the weather forecast is “chances of rain” and you can immediately start seeing them planning which sweater to wear, what hot beverage they’ll be sharing with their imaginary date, and of course – a perfume to go with it.

Lyric Rain is what would bloom in an LA garden after a brief period of showers. Hibiscus, bougenvilia and perhaps a night blooming jasmine or two. It hints at the tropical, but without actually being in the tropics. It sings of balmy nights and longing for a few raindrops to make the grass a little greener.

Beginning with soft-focused lavender and hints of sweet orange and pepper, Lyric Rain has that nostalgic air about it of spending the day at home reading books, gazing at the raindrops distort the window-view, and listening to melancholy music while sifting through old photographs and stamp-albums with your house cat. Jasmine and pink lotus purr throughout the perfume while laying on a velvet cushion of plush patchouli, walking a fine line between exotic orientalism and hippie nostalgia.

Top notes: Lavender, Pink Pepper
Heart notes: Blue Lotus, Jasmine
Base notes: Patchouli