A significant part of preparing for my trans-atlantic move involves sifting through my countless of bottley possessions. While there has been some reported sightings of letting go, it hasn't made even the slightest dent in the number of glassware filled with precious liquid that I'm going to have to meticulously wrap and prepare for marine freight.

But what has happened was rediscovering of certain scents, and realizing that even though I rarely wear them - they're too special to let go of. Such is Yohji, in its clear "glass coffin" box, whose packaging alone inspires curiosity. By the way, its original wrapping also included being neatly rolled in parchment paper.

Yohji is singular in its execution of the ambreine theme, and turning it into a fully-fledged gourmand  - with a twist. Ambreine is the basis of many great oriental fragrances, and is based on the contrast of vanillin and bergamot, traditionally with rose and jasmine as harmonizers and  a touch of coumarin and patchouli for depth (for reference: this is the core of perfumes such as Shalimar, Emeraude, et al, and the modernized with the gourmand interpretations of fragrances such as Angel, Lolita Lempicka and Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme).

Yohji intensifies this simple pleasure by utilizing the striking sharp green of galbanum that adds a much needed interest to the bergamot facet, as well galbanum resin at the base, which has a decidedly balsamic quality that adds interest to the sugary vanillin. But rather than having rose and jasmine connect these two extremes of balsamic and citrus - the perfumer nestled ripe, syrupy berries in the midst. Namely, raspberries and blackberries.

While the structure of Yohji is very much like that of Angel and Lolita Lempicka, it leaves a memorable mark on the smeller and stands apart from other modern gourmands. Additionally, while it does bring to mind the historic contrast of galbanum and raspberry found in the classic green floral from the 70s, Ivoire, it still comes across as strikingly different, in its decidedly unfloral core and lack of interest in obeying any trends or fitting any expectations whatsoever. It's also unclassified gender-wise - and there is no reason for men not to wear it, despite the lack of the subtitle "Homme".

My memories of Yohji were a bit of mixed feelings - first of all, because of its intensity, which to begin with made me wear it scarcely. Although it's not quite as aggressive as Angel, it is pretty close. Additionally, many falls ago,  when I just "met" Yohji (I've had a purse-size spray received in a swap), was when my doughter was recovering from a summer accident that broke her leg. It was a time of overwhelmingly intense transitions and challenges, and I found the scent to bring just the right amount of confidence and a great complement to brisk cold busy workweek mornings with too many tasks to catch up with and made me feel just a tad braver than before applying it. But that also tends to translate to not being able to wear it again after, simply because of the strong emotional association. Now that many years have passed without me touching it, and when I'm again facing a big life change, I find it to be oddly comforting. Only now I truly embrace its audacity and can appreciate its structure better. The opening, which can be experienced as harsh (there is more than a little acetone-like note going on there), does not bother me anymore, and I absolutely adore the dry down which reminds me of an almond and raspberry torte.

P.s. This review is for the 1996 version of Yohji. It was re-launched in 2013 and I have not tried the new version - therefore unable to comment on it at this time. If you've tried it - I would like to hear from you if it's worth a sniff. Perhaps it is the berry aspect that I'm sentimental about, and maybe that is the berry perfume I've been looking for all summer?

But got this instead:

Hybrid Tea Rose 2012, a photo by neggatiff on Flickr.

What will lure you in immediately are the distinctive tea rose with only the slightest soapiness - the iconic and familiar sharpness of the Perfumers' Workshop Tea Rose immediately comes to mind. Once it touches your skin, La Fille de Berlin quickly turns into an uber-sweet tea rose and violet-candy affair, reminiscent of the sweet-spoken Bvlgari pour Femme, only with a higher price point and slightly intriguing spice to stop it from being as cloying. Musky woody notes at the base give this retro theme a more current flavour; and a hint of leathery saffron note is the only thing that gives it a “niche” edge. Other than that, Serge Lutens’ La Fille de Berlin is a crowd-pleasing 2-syllables rose, obvious and leaving no room for guessing. The dryout is continously rosy, changing into plum-like damascones and raspberry-jam darkness that's reminiscent of Ivoire's dying words; and a very subtle animalic aspect of sandalwood against the smooth-warm-cool wood of Moroccan cedar lurks underneath, very subtly and surprisingly does not embody what you'd expect from Lutens - or from a Berlin girl. I really expected some more thorns and instead got a very conventional, although well-made sugary rose.

Top notes: Tea Rose, Black Pepper
Heart notes: Rose, Crystallized Violet, Safranal
Base notes: Musk, Atlas Cedar, Raspberry, Sandalwood

As promised, I’m sharing with you my rhubarb crumble recipe. I couldn’t help but add something perfumey to the otherwise quite simple North American classic of rhubarb and summer berries bake – probably owing to the fact that I’m a Middle Easter perfumer, the pairing with rose was just inevitable.

Rosewater and rose sugar complement the tartness and slightly floral nuances in the rhubarb, strawberries and raspberries in this otherwise easy and laid-back recipe. It’s a heavenly summer treat and with reduced sugar comparing to other rhubarb recipes I’ve seen. I think the tartness is refreshing and overdoing the sugar takes away from the flavour (this is true for many recipes – and in fact, I usually cut the sugar in half in most North American dessert recipes – sugar is way overrated and overdosed in our continent!).

For the fruit "filling":

4 stocks of fresh rhubarb

2.5 lbs fresh garden strawberries

0.9 lbs fresh raspberries

2 Tbs. rosewater

2 Tbs. corn starch

½ cup raw cane sugar

1 Tbs. butter for the pan

- Butter a large and deep rectangular pan
- Clean and stem the strawberries and cut into half
- Place in a bowl and add the raspberries
- Slice the rhubarb and add to the berries
- Sprinkle the rosewater and sugar and toss well
- Sprinkle the cornstarch and toss until evenly spread within the berry and rhubarb mixture, and spoon into the prepared pan.
- Preheat the oven to 350F.

For the crumble topping:

1 cup rolled oats

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1 oz. butter (about 2 Tbs.)

¼ tsp. salt

2 Tbs. rose sugar (reserve 1 Tbs. for topping)

2 Tbs. Demerara sugar (reserve 1 Tbs. for topping)

50 gr. Sliced almonds

- Stir the oats, flour, salt and half of the sugars together.
- Cut in cold butter and mix with fingers or with a hand blender, until large crumbs are formed
- Mix in the sliced almonds
- Sprinkle the crumble topping onto the rhubarb and berry mixture in the pan. Sprinkle the remaining 1 Tbs. each of rose sugar and Demerara sugar on top of the crumble.

- Bake in the pre-heated oven for 40 minutes.
- Serve warm or at room temperature, on its own or with vanilla ice cream, crème fraiche or whipped cream.

P.s. A little note about the crumble topping: since these fly out of the pan pretty fast, I actually double the recipe for the crumble and reserve half for the next batch. The crumble is the only “pastry” like part so that makes the next crumble a no-brainer to whip up even on short notice, as long as you got some fresh fruit around!