I have always intended to review Paris in a larger context of a feature series about Sophia Grojsman and her (many) roses. There is perhaps no other perfumer who uses roses so often and in such a distinct manner as she does. So this is by no means going to be the last time Paris will be mentioned in SmellyBlog. Hopefully, by the time I’ll write about it next I would have actually been to the city and could draw from my own personal experience rather than that of books I’ve read and movies I’ve watched.

YSL Paris is the Paris of everybody fantasies. It’s the Paris Carrie Bradshaw hopes to fulfill a true love in before she learns how lonely can beauty be (especially when you don’t know the language and your lover is a selfish Russian painter that looks like a ballet dancer); it’s the Paris that Parisians criticized was too fluffy and pretty in the film Amelie. You will not, however, find any of the darkness and romantic idealistic poverty of Les Miserables or the conspiracies of The Black Tulip. If that’s what you are looking for, you will be better off overdosing on Rive Gauche; or many other French perfumes that I can think of but don’t have room to list here.

Paris is pink, pretty, and rosy. It’s a day without a cloud and love without quarrels. It’s too good to be true. And that’s because it is a fantasy, thought up by a Russian perfumer for the most Parisian and French couturier alive at the time. There probably isn’t any better house to have made a perfume of that name. And this is also probably the most popular from this house.




Paris has Grojsman’s signature rose-peach- vanilla -violet accord. It opens bright and clear, with sheer citrus and peach and while it is sweet it is certainly not as sweet as other perfumes from that genre (i.e.: Bvlgari, Nahema, Tresor). There is something just a little more lighthearted about it. As the brightness of rose bergamot and peach dissipate, the more powdery aspects of rose take over, backed up with violet and the seductive vanillic whispers of heliotropin. As sweet as the base may be, it still has that dry edge to it, from woody notes of cedar and sandalwood. After a couple of hours of wearing, Paris becomes smoother again, this time developing a hint of wet-petal texture, the rosy sweetness tampered with a certain coolness (perhaps the mimosa?). The last breaths of Paris are redolent of dead roses whose life preserved in a glass coffin filled with amber and musk.

Paris may be too pretty for my style and taste, but it sure can put a smile on my face.

Top notes: Bergamot, Geranium, hawthorn, Hyacinth
Heart notes: Mimosa, Rose, Violet, Lily of the valley
Base notes: Cedar, Sandal, Heliotrope, Amber

After long procrastination, I have finally got my hands on some samples of Rich Hippie’s perfumes, thanks to a kind swapper via MUA. While Utopia left me only slightly uplifted from my current state (yuzu has the ability to do that to you) ; and Nirvana left me numbly bored – Wild Thing was the one to grab my attention, instantly (and no, it was not because of its steep price point). Wild Thing is as close as a natural perfume ever got to Patou’s infamous “Joy” (at its time bearing the slogan of being "the most expensive perfume in the world”). But the two have more in common than their high price. They both celebrate the luscious beauty of jasmine and rose. In Wild Thing, there is hardly anything else (a little bit of citrus at the opening, and a very subtle orris note). The rose almost gets lost in the bush of sultry, penetrating jasmine. The indole is intoxicating and beautiful. Almost outrageously so. Wild thing is a rich (pun intended) but not overpowering kind of floral and while very animalistic it is never repulsively so. Despite the fact that there is no civet at the base to my knowledge (which is what makes Joy parfum slightly “dirty”) – you get a similar vibe from the dry down of Wild Thing – it’s always jasminey and quite long lasting; though I can’t really tell what is it in the base that make it linger so long (no particular note stands out enough to be noticed, aside from the rose and the jasmine; and whatever iris there is there – it is very subtle, which makes me wonder if it is not used merely as a fixative). To the flower girl within me, Wild Thing is pure bliss and thankfully it is not in the least “hippie”.

On a completely other note, being a by-product of the hippie era myself, I can’t say I am particularly thrilled by the names or the concept of the Rich Hippie line. There are plenty of things that deeply irritate me when I read the website that have nothing to do with my personal taste (or with my lack of fondness of the brand’s paradoxical name): the perfume-history inaccuracies, the scare tactics, and last but not least – the inconsistency in regards to the quality or grade of the materials used (i.e. what is organic). The bottles are all labeled as “Organic Perfume”, yet in the list of notes, sometimes the same notes are listed as organic and sometimes they aren’t. My conclusion is that the alcohol is most likely organic, while maybe some of the essences could be organically grown (especially when listed that way) but many I suspect aren’t. Of course, the overall mystery around the subject contributes to the justification of the higher price point This brings a whole new issue which was brought up to me today: the definitions of “natural” and “organic” product, when referring to perfumes.

Recently, several new health-food-store distributed lines of fragrances were launched , branching out from aromatherapy into the real of “natural” or “organic” fragrances. Theoretically, it’s nice to see this happening – natural fragrances becoming more popular and being semi-mass-marketed. However, we are back to square one in terms of truth in labeling and advertising. Why? Because what makes these products “organic” is not necessarily the fragrance they are made of but the carrier. In order for a product to be certified organic, it needs to be made 95% certified organic components; and it can be labeled as “made with organic ingredients” if it uses at least 70% organic ingredients. The remaining 30% is easily open to interpretations, and could, for example – in the case of perfume – mean that the alcohol base is organic alcohol (usually grain or grape alcohol); but the remaining 30%, where the scent actually comes from, could easily be not organically grown, not to mention – it could even include synthetic molecules. Keeping in mind that the alcohol stays on the skin only for a few second, I am afraid I’m not particularly impressed! In other words – read the label and ingredient list very carefully before you fool yourself to thinking you are using an organic product.

As a flower-child’s daughter, I was brought up in an organic village, and I can tell you quite a bit about what organic farming is, and what is required for any crop to be considered organic. To put it simply, the crops must be:
Not genetically modified or engineered (aka non GMO)
Grown with no pesticides or herbicides
Grown with no chemical fertilizers
Grown within a reasonable distance from pollution sources (i.e.: other farms that use pesticides and herbicides)

In other words, the crops should be grown as pure as possible from any chemical or biological human interventions. To ensure that, most countries have their own body that certifies organic farms and companiess adhering to these standards. To be certified organic the farm must be assessed by a third party that will look at those factors and certify the produce or the products of that farm with the organization’s seal. The seal of approval can be also found on other products, such as prepared foods, cosmetics, cleaning products and body products.

On another note, I am yet to find a jasmine absolute that is certified organic. In fact, the mere act of extracting absolute from a plant is non-organic as it requires the use of synthetic solvents (only traces of which will be found in the absolute). Some even argue that absolutes are not natural (and I will discuss more of that in a future post, tomorrow). The groves of jasmine are sparse in the world and I haven’t heard of an organic one as of yet. Citrus and herbs are more easy to find organically, but the flower essences for the most part are very challenging. If you know of a source I would be happy to get that information from you …

I would be very curious to hear from anyone here who owns an original bottle from this line if there is any seal to attest to its certified organicness.

As you can see, the definition of “organic” is quite ambiguous, perhaps even more so than the definition of “natural”. If you want to further investigate here are two interesting links on the topic:

SkinCare @ Lovetoknow.com
PioneerThinking.com
HallGold.com

I first encountered Ta’if on a chilly winter day in London some three years ago, when searching for perfumeries that can be found nowhere else but in London. Ormonde Jayne’s miniature store front, furnished with polished black ebony and tangerine accents was an immediate fascination. Perhaps the fact that Linda Pilkington spoke fluent Hebrew helped too… She spent a few years in the Hebrew University studying anthropology, and so the conversation between me and my friend Yasmin was completely transparent to her ears…

In no time it was quite obvious that Ta’if was my favourite. Perhaps is was the humorous glint in Linda’s eyes when she mentioned saffron and dates... It smelled right to me on first inhalation, yet my nose was a bit tired of all the former sniffage (Penhalligon’s practically exhausted my sense of smell with their far more sharp creations just a few stores away from Ormonde Jayne), and I had to postpone my complete union with this scent until my return to the similarly chilly city of Vancouver.

I left the shop wearing Ta’if to try on one wrist (and Sampaquita on the other), and feeling happy that there is another Hebrew speaking perfumer in the world. In fact, Linda was the first perfumer I met first-to-face at that time. Perfumery is a solitary work, and even more so when you are an independent perfumer - the only board meetings you ever attend are your own, which will most likely involve clients rather than colleagues…

In the briskness of the foggy London night, there was something exalting about that cloud of roses and spice floating about me. And from than on, whenever I wear Ta’if I’m immediately reminded of that one chilly night in a bigger-than-life city, finding a perfume to be excited about and enjoying a rare moment of friendship that is usually separated with one big pond and the whole width of the largest country in the world…

Ta’if opens with saffron, dates and pink pepper, to an overall tangy-spicy composition. Than comes the dusty, desert dryness of cedar and the opulence of roses along with honeyed broom note. The base is ambery-sweet, powdery and musky, in what I would later discover to be a signature component of most Ormonde Jayne’s perfumes. This base may not be for everyone - especially if you dislike musk in any form, but on the right skin it is magnificent.

Unlike most perfumes with oriental elements, Ta’if is expansive rather than introspective. In that regard, it is reminiscent of other favourites of mine from the powdery rose genre – Tocade and Parfum Sacré.

Ta'if may be inspired by the roses of the desert city of Ta'if (see image above), but it reminds more of the illusion of softness the look of frosted roses evoke:

The official notes per an old Ormonde Jayne catalog:

Top notes: Pink Pepper, Saffron, Dates, White Peach
Heart notes: Ta’if Roses, Orange Blossom, Broom, Freesia, Lily of the Valley, Jasmine
Base notes: Amber, Tonka Bean, Musk, Vanilla Absolute

Like all the Ormonde Jayne perfumes, Ta'if is only available through Ormonde Jayne store in the Royal Arcade on Old Bond Street, and her online store.

Note: Despite its relative lightness, Ta'if must be applied with a light hand to avoid adverse reactions such as sneezing or eye-watering (I'm talking from experience here...). Sometimes too much of a good thing will not get you what you want...