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SmellyBlog

Ode to Lemon Verbena

Lemon Verbena Hair Rinse by Chiot's Run
Lemon Verbena Hair Rinse, a photo by Chiot's Run on Flickr.
Once upon a time (in the 18th century, to be exact), there lived an Italian princess (or perhaps she was French) who like most princesses, was married off to become a queen in another country (let's make it Spain). Her name was Maria Luisa de Parma, and a look at her ancestry is about as confusing as detecting the subtle odour of Parma violets while standing upright and glancing at them in their natural habitat, which is usually not much higher than ground level. One thing concerning this queen is certain though: she'll be always remembered by the plant that was named after her, Hierba Louisa, which is now called Aloysia triphylla AKA Lippia triphylla, L. citriodora, otherwise known to mere mortals as Lemon Verbena or Louisa.

Louisa was the only saving grace in what will be remembered as the 2013 edition of Summer from Hell. I spent most of it under the merciless scorching sun of the Israeli skies, which was occasionally disturbed by smoking military jets and missiles, reminding me that it could be a lot, a lot worse. But that still did not make matters any better.

What did make them better were little tiny moments like waking up a little bit before the sun arrived and sneaking outside just before it will  become unbearable (which is anywhere between 7am-7pm), and picking some fresh lemon verbena leaves and steep them into a fresh leaf iced tea or refrigerator infusion. If planned well, you might even be able to bake a pastry or two without overheating your space (again, early morning only).

I can repeat too many times how unbearable the heat was; because this is the only way you will understand how wonderfully refreshing it was to sip on lemon verbena iced tea and cool off a bit. Lemon verbena is not just lemony, it's also floral and wonderful beyond what simple adjectives can describe. There are plenty of lemony things out there, which are quite wonderful as well: lemongrass, lemon balm, and lemon onto its own with its lip puckering sourness and essential-oil-packed zest are something I find irresistible. But lemon verbena deserves a category onto its own. The high content of citral (aka geraniol/nerol), which accounts for 30-40% of its chemical makeup, is what makes it feel like a candy or a treat. Citronellol (nerol/geraniol) account for around 10%, and make it feel floral and citrusy all at once. But that is something you'll find also in other notes (such as lemon myrtle, litsea cubeba, and citronella), which only goes to show that it's the trace molecules that really make some raw materials stand apart. Lemon verbena is arguably the most delicately balanced and delicious of them all. And beautifully accessible through infusion into all sorts of beverages and sweets. Fresh lemongrass and dried lemon verbena come only second to this heavenly citrus leaf.

Lemon Verbena - Arugot HaBosem

Lemon verbena was imported to Europe after the Spaniards discovered it in South America. The French botanist Philibert Commerson discovered it in Buenos Aires as early as 1767, yet it wasn't till the late 18th century that the plant became popular in gardens in the warmer parts of Europe, and greenhouses in London. The plant is a perennial bush that can grow quite tall if well watered and fertilized, and will shed its leaves in the cooler season (and even the Israeli winter is too cold for this sub-tropical plant). Otherwise, it has fresh bright green leaves that are soft when young and become more stiff and rough when they become more mature. Typically,  the leaves are not used (neither whole nor chopped up) in any recipe, but rather infused to impart their floral-lemony flavour to dishes.

Lemon Verbena

As far as perfume-related applications go, dried leaves of lemon verbena are a wonderful addition to poutpourris and sachets. However, lemon verbena's essential oil is banned for use in Europe and are restricted by IFRA, due to potential phototoxicity. Odour-wise it would make a fine choice for any number of citrus and cologne type scents; as well as imparting a sweet, lemony, floral heart note and a refreshingly sweet effect to any fragrance genre a perfumer would desire, from floral to orientals, fougeres and chypres. Fortunately, there are other oils that bring a similar effect - May Chang (also called "Tropical Verbena"), from the berries of the Litsea cubeba plant). Thankfully, it is also far cheaper to produce than true lemon verbena oil.

Made in Clil

Lemon verbena is one of the signature notes in my work as a perfumer, and not surprisingly. My life-long love affair with this plant hasn't began many summers ago, and ever since we've been growing it in the village it was a source of grounding and happiness. It turns out that Lemon Verbena has powerful anti-oxidant properties: "Moderate antioxidant supplementation with lemon verbena extract protects neutrophils against oxidative damage, decreasing the signs of muscular damage in chronic running exercise without blocking the cellular adaptation to exercise",  so it might have helped me more than I know, drinking it regularly when I was growing up. It also seems to have very calming and grounding effect, and in aromatherapy it is considered to be calming and to help relieve spasms and stomach discomforts, especially due to stress; it also increases appetite, and helps lower fever.

There is something immensely cheerful about its scent, and sipping a tea, especially from the fresh leaves, is sublime. The dry leaves aren't half bad either, especially if you get them from healthy plants that were grown in optimal conditions and harvested and dried with love and care. Such as the ones my family picks for me in my home village Clil; or the ones I've purchased from the newly opened "Made In Clil" shop (which is inside a tent, just to give you an idea of which kind of village this is). Note the three-leaved decoration on the shop's sign: these are lemon verbena leaves, which only shows you how much we associate this plant with the village life...

I've used the dried leaves from my village to make my Charisma tea, which is the first tea blend I've ever made (blended with jasmine green tea, spearmint and osmanthus).  I've just made more of it yesterday and as I was blending it my mood has improved by 300%, making me smile the whole time. It reminded me of the first time I worked a few hours of hard labour at the village, helping a neighbouring family who had an herbal farm to separate the dried leaves from the branches. We had to wear gardeners' gloves to protect our fingers and hands from the very rough dry leaves. We ran through many pairs of gloves in the process - the branches and leaved chaffed through the fabric and even with the gloves it hurt to do the job. I remember sitting there and thinking to myself, I don't mind this work at all even if it cuts through my skin, because of the heavenly smell! And it was then and there that I had my first entrepreneurial idea, way back in my teenage years... Perhaps now you can see why I attribute so much of where I am now to Lemon Verbena.


Jimmy

Contrary to my expectations, Jimmy is the most girly of the collection titled Bruno Fazzolari Editions. Fuzzy and milky peach accents a classic bouquet of rose, jasmine and ylang ylang, thinly cut by a blade of green grass. It reminds me very much of AnaisAnais - fruity floral yet green and a tad soapy, and a little of Yvresse - with which it shares a somewhat old fashioned, bubbly aldehydic fizziness.

It's not my personal favourite from Bruno Fazzolari Editions, but I am certain those who are in favour of fruity florals and powdery effervescent roses will approve!

Top notes: Green Notes, Ylang Ylang
Heart notes: Rose, Rose Geranium, Jasmine, Violet Leaf
Base notes: Sandalwood, Heliotrope, Oakmoss

Eau de Narcisse Bleue

morning narcissus by F_blue
morning narcissus, a photo by F_blue on Flickr.
Like the black narcissus, the blue lense on this flower also relies heavily on orange blossom to tell its fantastic tale of seductive yet destructive self-loving.

Eau de narcisse bleue is unexpectedly part of Hermes' cologne collection; a fragrance family characterized by effervescent citrus, pungent herbs and overall cheerfulness. Eau de narcisse bleue, like its former abstract floral cologne eau de gentiane blanche, is melancholy and more than sunny Mediterranean patios and azure sea and skies, it brings to mind a walk in a Northern garden early in early autumn morning after it rained. There is still a fair amount of vegetation from the sunny summer left - cyclamens, irises and many leafy greens. The air is filled with a crisp watery freshness of green grass and violet leaves crushed underneath one's foot. It's so vegetale that it's reminiscent of a very green gazpacho and juiced greens and wheat-grass.

The opening notes are those of vulnerable orange blossoms drenched in iced green tea (which undoubtedly would be what rain is made from in the Ellena's world). Their scent is sweet and cheerful, but is diminished by the celestial rinse. Echoed from the distance are narcissus flowers peeking through the green shrubs and represented by the sweet scent of hay more than anything else. You'll find non of the animalic, paracresyl methyl ether characteristics of the flower that give it the unbearble leathery corpse personality. Just a whiff of the narcissus' green top notes, resembling lily of the valley in their ethereal greenness.

Then comes iris, and the playful orange blossom all but disappears. Cool and powdery yet also sweet and plasticy, the iris brings to mind Hiris, which may as well be the blueprint for both Narcisse Bleue and Gentiane Blanche. At the present makeup of this collection, it is a bit astonishing that Hiris wasn't drafted to serve as a cologne as well.

The dry down is a bit disappointing though: it reverts to a non-descript musky coumarin whisper. Vague, sweet and disappointing at the end of an interesting exercise in restrained story-telling and subtle olfactory imaging.

Top note: Tea, Orange Blossom
Heart notes: Iris, Violet Leaf, Narcissus, Hay
Base notes: Tonka Bean, Musk


Happy Sukkot + Etrog's 1st Anniversary

Etrog (Citron) by Ayala Moriel
Etrog (Citron), a photo by Ayala Moriel on Flickr.
Happy Sukkot and blessed harvest holiday to all my Jewish friends, customers and readers!

This is the 1st anniversary of Etrog Oy de Cologne, and a perfect opportunity to celebrate the closing of one cycle of harvest for me, and thank you for receiving Etrog with so much warmth, enthusiasm and support.

It is for you that I create my perfumes, and it means so much to me that I am able to continue doing what I am doing and put food on the table for my tiny family while pursuing my passion. May this year be - both fragrant and tasty, good deeds and learning, just like the elusive Etrog fruit.

On a community effort note, which is what made Etrog so special: if any of you have leftover Etrogim in the Greater Vancouver area, and would like to donate them at the end of Sukkot - that would be most appreciated. Their delightful zest will be used to create a limited edition tea!

September



Deep into September and over it's other "side" - the cooler, darker and gloomier one. I'm happy to be back at the other side of the world after 2 months in the merciless, scorching Mediterranean sun. Amen to school year, and thank goodness this summer madness is over.

This song brings to mind the swirling of leaves, a melancholy stroll by the stromy seaside just before sunset time. The sun, which was hidden in fog and clouds most of the day, now makes a guest appearance and surprisingly peeks through the gathered clouds, sending splotches of lively pink beneath the grays.

It is the season of new beginnings (beginning of the Jewish New Year, and school of course), and time of reflection. Time to curl inwards and gather my energy in preparations for longer nights and darker days, which thankfully also means more perfume, writing and creativity.

The coming year is going to be very different than the previous ones in terms of my business and I'm sure in one way or another, this will also reflect on SmellyBlog. Last year I was certain I won't be releasing any new perfumes in 2013. There are only a few months left in this year, and I have remained loyal to my decision. I have instead focused on making my packaging a little bit better, and I will continue on making your experience with Ayala Moriel Parfums products and services better, while my creativity will take a back seat (meaning no new releases).

2014 is on the horizon, and while there are still plenty of holidays to celebrate before it is over - I'm already envisioning what the next year would be (Jewish and otherwise...). While I don't plan to release any more perfumes in the immediate future, there will be more surprises coming up soon, some of which are the result of many years of development - and some I've even wrote about on SmellyBlog. But most importantly, I feel very strongly that I must take some time off the front scene, and focus on what's most important to me, both as a woman and an artist.

What do I hope for this year? That it will be better than the previous one. What began as a harmless, mundane and optimistic period, turned into a most trying year than I could have imagined. All I ask is for some peace, quiet and most importantly - health. And I wish the same to you as well.
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