Scentzilla!

You may have read in the past few days about a little tempest of sorts regarding the existence of perfume blogger payola and swag. (Due to a family emergency which I prefer to keep private, I have been unable to spend much time reading on the computer, and was not aware there was any drama until late.) It’s been the subject of posts and vigorous commenting at Aromascope, Bois de Jasmin, Now Smell This, Perfume Posse, and Perfume-Smellin’ Things. It’s also been the subject of a lot of conjecture and debate on the perfume board at Makeupalley.

The initial blogger’s post that sparked what I’m going to go ahead and call a debate drew attention to a comment I had made 5 months ago on the Photo Matt blog. For those who don’t know, Photo Matt is the personal blog of the WordPress founding developer (the open source blogging platform Scentzilla uses) and a founder of Automattic (the company behind Wordpress.com and Askimet.) The post in question was very brief, and talked about click-through rates. My comment was actually a fairly emotional (on my part) response to something another commenter brought up, which wondered if people are mentally blocking out ads, then how long until they start blocking out the blogs themselves, too? With the rise of commerciality in blogging, this struck me, as a blogger who discusses consumer goods, as a very good question to ask.

To put my comment in a very personal context, I wrote it right in the midst of what felt like an onslaught of Christmas shopping PR agendas being delivered to my email inbox. There were offers for freebies of all sorts (not limited to perfume alone) sailing in, which was daunting enough… And then I was offered payment for reviews. These offers did not come directly through any perfume houses. They were extended by third parties. The first one I simply deleted immediately, as I figured they were nothing more than crackpots with a really bad idea. The second one I received (from a different source) wound up giving me the heebie-jeebies. I declined, and tried to offer up the unsolicited advice that this tactic was a questionable practice and not in their best interest to be making. I did so because I thought the party was misinformed about how blogs work. My advice brought back an apology, which was good, but it was bundled up inside the explanation that (and I’m paraphrasing) it wasn’t meant to offend, but that’s just how some other bloggers liked to do advertising.

Holy.

Crap.

WTF?!

I interpreted that as implicitly indicating that there were/are other bloggers accepting payment for positive reviews. My reaction was negative and visceral, so when reading the question brought up by the Photo Matt commenter, I wound up pouring out my concerns and worry what that sort of practice on such a limited blog topic meant for the whole of the blogosphere.

But the issue of direct payola is not the primary issue faced by bloggers. I believe it is rare, though its existence shouldn’t be denied simply because it is not overly prevalent. Yet.

The much more common practice of indirect influence of payola via freebies, or swag, should also be of concern to both bloggers and blog readers. I wish I had spoken up more about that in my comment, but at the time I was upset, and choosing the best wording ever was not my main objective. I was attempting to explain that if even such a small interest such as perfume attracts that sort of PR/advertising/marketing intrusion, bloggers on all subjects ought to remain wary. This practice may negatively influence the whole medium of blogging – not just perfume.

In fact, it was after I wrote that comment that I strengthened up the language in my own PR guidelines in order to leave no doubt in the minds of PR reps and readers alike where Scentzilla stands. Yet despite this, one somewhat prominent niche perfumery’s PR rep attempted to astroturf (see Wikipedia explanation here) on my blog, either in defiance or willful ignorance of my stated policy on the subject. The lesson I took from that was that the question of ethics falls squarely on the shoulders of bloggers. If there’s money to be made, companies’ PR wings will try to stick their fingers into the pot however they can manage.

I was not and am not inclined to name names. I would prefer not to risk sticking myself in legal hot water. Moreover, that’s not really the point. It’s a blogosphere wide concern; it’s not limited to perfume blogging only or to specific people, groups, or businesses. The issue is a ripe discussion topic, and I find it a compelling discussion to have for the health of blogging in general.

I regret that the comment left seems to have been taken and used by some individuals as a kind of ad hominem attack on all my perfume blogging peers. I am horrified that anyone would glean the assumption that ALL bloggers are engaging in unethical behavior; I was clumsily trying to say that I was highly persuaded that SOME bloggers in the fashion/beauty arena are. I’m disturbed that some folks have decided we’ve landed on some perfumed grassy knoll, and have consequently become conspiracy-theorists, when there in fact is no conspiracy. I do, however, understand that it may well come as a shock to some blog readers that free stuff (products, samples, etc.) may be offered to and accepted by blog authors. But it’s not as if some great big truth has been revealed. There’s no perfumed grassy knoll to become obsessed with finding, nor is there some imaginary Warren commission to rally against or around. Frankly, I find it disingenuous of some folks to feign naïve shock that there’s commercial interest in blogging when it’s plain that advertisements run all over many fashion and beauty blogs. The issue is a blogosphere wide issue, not one that is singular to fragrance blogging alone.

The giving and receiving of freebies, as well as blogger relationships with various PR firms and sponsors, raises interesting and pertinent questions about the supposed independence of bloggers. This is a valid area of concern. Whether or not any one individual blogger engages in these relationships and practices is irrelevant to the larger issue: Payola and swag do exist. Advertisers and PR will try in any way they can to control information about their products, and there are those who will accede to their attentions. Thus, all fragrance bloggers should look critically at the effect this has on our own blogging community, and more importantly, the blogging community at large. How does commercial attention shape the public perception of blogs as independent and personally driven media? How are these relationships influencing the conversation about our own chosen topics, both in tone and subject material? What kind of direction is the commercial attention driving us towards? Is that direction good, bad, or neutral? I ask, because right now there are more questions than ready answers, and we should be prepared to question ourselves about such things whether using the medium as writers or readers.

These are weighty issues to consider. The creeping commercial attention to amateur online reviewing is something every site owner should watch for as they navigate their way towards finding a personal code of ethics. I struggle with navigating those choppy waters frequently. It can be tricky, and it has not gotten any less tricky in the 3 years I’ve been blogging. If anything, it’s become more difficult as the beauty and fashion blog community has grown in size and diversity. Some sites are highly commercial, while others are less so. Therefore, relying upon the practices of your virtual blog neighbors when forming your own site’s guidelines may not always be the best or easiest solution.

This issue is not one that can be resolved by any one blogger categorically stating that PR, advertising, and its attendant weight of influence does not unduly cloud their judgment. What we need is a collective transparency as a blogging community if we wish to continue to be taken seriously.

The influence cash payments for posts can make on a blog is unequivocally direct. However, the influence a relationship with PR firms and their freebies might have on a blogger can be a danger as well. People may feel beholden to positively mention the products they receive. Others may feel compelled to construct or maintain an insider persona by repeating those firms’ press releases verbatim, possibly without considering the repercussions such posts may have within the whole sphere of a blogging community’s discussions. There is also the risk that some people may refrain from writing anything that could be construed as negative, because certain products may be carried by site advertisers. Perhaps, less obviously, there also exists the fear that if one pans a product represented by a particular PR firm, that PR firm (which may represent many brands) will sever their relationship entirely, thus cutting themselves off from a particular outlet for new information… or even more freebies, to be perfectly cynical.

Again, this is not to say every blog you read is run by unethical individuals, nor is it to say that every blog you trust doesn’t have to deal with these issues on a daily basis. It can be hard to find a balance on how to manage a site in a transparent but unobtrusive manner. Mistakes can and will be made – by both the scrupulous and the unscrupulous. But the blurry line between independence and commerciality can be confusing to follow for any blogger whose subject matter happens to be consumer goods. My own worry is that if the majority of perfume bloggers are all acting as willing synchronized cogs in one big giant PR machine, how long until the public simply begins to generally regard reading blogs akin to watching infomercials? Already there are blogs about other subjects that currently beg this question.

I suppose it’s worthwhile to point out that some beauty & lifestyle magazines also stray deeply into infomercial territory. Unfortunately, I think some fashion, beauty, and perfume bloggers try to take their stylistic and editorial cues from those sorts of magazines. Perfume blogs are not exactly Consumer Reports, but should this mean by default that they should follow instead after Allure, O, Lucky, etc? I’m not sure perfume bloggers should adopt whatever code of ethics they presume the editorial staff at those magazines take towards PR freebies, because I am not convinced that the standard there is entirely germane. While glossy mags may indeed receive press releases, products, and samples for mention in their pages, the editors do allegedly bend the content of those pages to kowtow to their advertisers. This is done without any of the transparency that might benefit their readers. In other words, the relative ethical practices of even the fashion and beauty print media can and should be viewed with a healthy amount of skepticism by bloggers. The idea they are the role model to follow is sketchy and a questionable suggestion.

Readers of blogs need to question themselves about the reliability of a blogger’s source of information and what motives a blogger might have in sharing that information. In most cases it’s a fairly benign motive: creative expression, and a desire to participate directly in the conversation about their favorite subjects. Reader awareness is as warranted for perfume blogs as any other type of blog. Enjoy the perfume blogs as possible sources of information and entertainment, but chose carefully how you read them. Because as a blog writer, I’m counting that your own personal bullshit detector will keep the honest and well-written blogs afloat while the rest all drift off into oblivion in a sea of homogeny.

Wait. Did I just say well-written? Crap. I just shot myself in the foot. Well, it was nice having you all visit Scentzilla while it lasted. Thanks for reading. Heh.

Ambre Antique is one of the earliest fragrances sold by Francois Coty. Ambre Antique was first introduced in 1905, and sadly, production of the fragrance dried up long before many of us were even born.

A brief glimmer of hope for resurgence appeared during the 90s when Bergdorf Goodman sold limited edition versions of classic Coty fragrances, including Ambre Antique. But they came and went within the blink of an eye. One could guess that much of this is due to two things:

First, Coty was a little ahead of its time. If they’d only known how big the perfume addict culture was about to explode in just a scant few years, they might have held on and persisted; One could argue that the market for such a project finally exists now. I honestly believe that market was not available in 1995, at least not to the extent that would result in acceptable, albeit niche-level, sales.

Second, it’s reasonable to surmise that much of any diminished sales figures are due to a general consumer reluctance to pay more than low double digits for anything labeled Coty anymore. For better or worse, Coty is nowadays synonymous with inexpensive ingredients and drugstore budgets, and our culture’s capitalist short-term memory disallows any particular remembrance of a time when Coty was considered edgy, prestigious, or adjective-of-your-choice implying “chic.” Public perception of the house of Coty acting as a ground breaker has long ceased to exist, primarily because the brand Coty has ceased to innovate in any meaningful fashion. While I would love to see Coty try once again to relaunch versions of their historical masterpieces, I fear they face an uphill battle. I think much of the sentiment towards their perfumery can currently be summed up as, “when I can’t/couldn’t afford anything better.”

The vague consumer disdain for the house and brand of Coty was not always so.

Coty’s Ambre Antique has a much broader appeal to modern noses than the infamously challenging Chypre, but it’s nevertheless a classic. Perhaps it’s like picking one Vermeer over another. One may personally speak to you more perhaps, but c’mon… they’re all Vermeers: The light of brilliance shines in them all.

The name itself is a bit misleading. Vanilla dominates the composition of Ambre Antique: rich, creamy vanilla, almost like an ice cream scooped onto the skin. It’s an amber float!

The top notes have faded from this bottle for the most part, but I’m guessing that bergamot, and orange blossom are hiding in there. (I stress the word “guessing” because I want to say “orange-y,” and I am an olfactory idiot and always say orange-y when in fact it usually turns out to be orange blossom/neroli.)

Insofar as I understand it, Amber Antique was originally made with actual ambergris. However, sniffing from my own latterly made bottle (mid-century?) indicates that at some point substitutions were made in favor of synthetics. The amber notations take the form of ambery-woody and ambery-incensey aromas. A dose of incense (likely the ‘num duo of labdanum and olibanum?) additionally breathes a darker aromatic feel into the fragrance. Civet in particular plays a huge role in shaping Ambre Antique’s dry down. Whatever one’s personal ambivalence towards sticking something that came out of animal’s hindquarters onto the skin might be, there is no denying the resounding thump it can give a fragrance upon landing at the bottom. Civet provides the skank here, but it’s the skank of fresh hay on a barn floor. Repellant? Maybe. But it’s still oddly clean and enjoyable.

And those dollops of vanilla never do stop melting, dripping right through the amber and the animal urgency of civet. It’s the sort of fragrance that asks of the wearer and passers-by, “Am I hungry or horny?” It’s the TV character Joey from Friends, in that, the response could happily go either way.

Writing about Ambre Antique brings me to a recent release, Hilary Duff’s With Love… Hilary Duff. It does distinguish itself from many of the celebrity fragrances, for its oriental character contrasts wildly against a dull field of fruity-florals and/or musky-clean efforts. But all the appreciation for it mystifies me. I have tried, and retried it since it came out, never finding much in it besides generalities. It’s pleasant but harmless, much like Ms. Duff herself. There’s little to it that marks it as idiosyncratically interesting in the big picture of perfumery. It’s the difference between Dane Cook’s style of bland humor that cause him call to chicken sandwiches “sangwiches” as any toddler might, and Patton Oswalt’s bit on how KFC’s “Famous Bowls” are patronizing us into eating like toddlers. The latter tells a story, the former simply seeks approval for that (a cheap catch phrase) which has already been approved. The difference comes down to risk. There’s a subtle danger when crediting an audience with the intelligence to discern and appreciate a specific voice: Being singular risks losing some folks. Hilary Duff… With Love doesn’t really risk much. It’s a “sangwich.” It’s only made out to look like a risk, and the result smells like a blithe catch phrase.

With Love roughly smells like orange-banana-pineapple flavored rock candy (the fruity note is officially listed as “mangosteen,” so okey-dokey) with a helping of vanilla over amber and a woody, musky base. It’s a warm and easily wearable fragrance; however, it doesn’t significantly come across as distinct. I feel like I’ve smelled it before, but can’t place where exactly. Maybe I’m getting old, forgetful. Maybe I’ve just become too jaded. Or maybe I’m under whelmed by too many of the eleventy billion new releases that keep coming out. Eh, let’s say it’s all of that. And I’m being far too harsh here. Hilary Duff seems like a nice person; Hilary Duff’s With Love is a nice fragrance. I guess maybe that’s my beef. I hate nice. There’s the stink of adequacy on nice.

If you like With Love… you will likely enjoy Calvin Klein Euphoria. They share a note and/or combination of notes that weirdly smell like vanilla and dusty “silk” flowers to me.

Yet, I’d like to recommend some other selections you might wish to also try if With Love has caught your fancy:

• Viktor & Rolf Antidote

• Fendi Theorema

• Jeanne Arthes Cassandra Blanc

• Givenchy Organza Indecence

And of course, if you want a piece of historical perspective,

• Coty Ambre Antique.

I’ve long demurred from reviewing Thierry Mugler’s Angel, not because of its quality, but due to its ubiquity. Mugler’s extreme fragrance succeeds to the extreme.

As a consequence, rare is the perfume enthusiast unfamiliar with it. Angel cannot be avoided by those seeking to learn about perfumes any more than is the unavoidable figure of Bismarck when seeking to understand modern Western history.

“Angel” sounds in name like it ought to be another tiresome light fruity floral affair. The Dolemite strut of the juice itself is anything but. Angel will not suit wallflowers. It cannot be worn, nor does it wear you: Angel becomes you.

Much could be made of Angel’s use of ethyl maltol, a sweet candy dispenser of an aromachemical that perversely gives the rest of this dense composition its kick in the crotch. However, I’ll leave discussion of aromachemicals up to the more technically-minded folks, since “kick in the crotch” is not likely to enter the official lexicon of perfumery. Angel begins with a layer of virtual floral tones that eschew the weight of tangible and real petals. This airy layer spins off into the composition’s infamous chocolate, buried berried treasure, and of course, the pungent funk of patchouli intermingling with burnt sugar confections in the base. It’s the anguish of this candied sweetness in the base that I think causes Angel’s detractors more pain than the chewy notes of chocolate and patchouli; Conversely, it is also what delights its devotees.

Catching the sillage off an Angel wearer is an unmistakable experience. You know it right off, and despite Angel’s many progenies it can be mistaken it for none other. Where many of the the homages to it focus more on explicitly gourmand aspects, Angel doesn’t sway from its essential character as a perfume. It evokes hungry thoughts, but does not immedietly evoke food.

It’s a fantastic trick to pull off.

Sniff Missioni’s effort, and one looks around for an unwrapped Terry’s Chocolate Orange. (Although, ugh. I actually hate those things, and would rather lick the inside of a gym sneaker… but I digress.) Catch a whiff of Serendipitous, and you want a mug of hot chocolate. Sniff Flowerbomb, and you wish you had a wee nibble of cake, please. But upon inhaling Angel, you long after a general and undefined more, whatever that is, greedy for sensual pleasures that can’t be written on recipe cards. It is a fragrance that reveals the wearer as both ravenous and ravishing at once.

When I visualize what a mental snapshot of Angel looks like, I picture a stiletto heel crushing out a brownie like a cigarette. Sex and food transliterated as attitude. And fabulously so. It’s what Eddie Izzard might call a “fuck off” perfume.

None of this is to say that one can actually escape its gourmandise delights. Chocolate, oh divine chocolate…

After reading an excellent expose on the Noka Chocolate line last month at the Dallas Food blog, (warning: while it is a great piece, one has to accept the author’s “gotcha” tone throughout the series.) I was craving chocolate like a crazy woman.

Sure, I could have picked up some Green & Black (Or not. Skip their “Dark 70%,” because, ewwww. It gives a weirdly beany off-taste to me, like bad canned limas or poorly prepared edamame. No lie. If you’re stuck with grocery store options, try the Ghiradelli baking bar, which is cheap but tastes surprisingly nice. Or Green & Black’s own baking bar, which I think tastes better than their “regular” bar, funnily enough.) Or for that matter, I could have bought Dagoba, Valrhona, Endangered Species (fine brands all) or any of those other brands available at the local brick and mortar shops, but… honestly? I wanted something different, off the beaten path.

Upon the recommendation of the Dallas Food blog, I headed over to Chocosphere.com. (And I will second his recommendation: I couldn’t have been happier with their service. A fun range, competitive pricing, great shipping options. Moreover, they’re based just over the river in Tualitin, OR, and it feels nice to still be patronizing an area business even if it’s over the web-o-nets.) Please note, while I purchased everything listed through Chocosphere, I’m hyperlinking to official sites, and their specific item pages when possible for the sake of non-US readers.

My favorite selection was easily Michel Cluizel’s whimsical Mushrooms. Chewy caramel fills the stem, and crunchy crispy almondine makes up the mushroom’s cap. They are enrobed in a blanket of white and dark chocolates… and enshrouded in deliciousness. If you try them and don’t find yourself addicted, then… I don’t know what to say to you. They make my mouth weep with happiness. (Which is super-secret code to avoid saying “drool.”)

My boys’ favorite bar, and one I enjoyed deeply as well, was Domori’s Dark Chocolate and Green Jasmine Tea, from their Ethnics line. The flavor of the tea doesn’t make itself completely apparent until the aftertaste, which surprised me since generally chocolatiers in the U.S. tend to make secondary flavors quite explicit. The texture felt like silken velveteen, with the tea leaves providing a subtle stray crunch or two in each square.

However, the dark chocolate I gravitated most towards was Amedei’s Chuao. The flavor of it popped like a champagne cork on my tongue, its bitterness coming on with a rush of smooth plummy connotations. It’s a very rounded flavor, but definitely not flat, and perhaps a wonderful bar to try if you fear dark chocolate.

I also tried Bonnat’s Puerto Cabello, a wonderfully berry-inflected chocolate, though I found the texture wanting, for it felt a bit too waxy for my taste and a little granular. I’d actually love to make brownies with this, to take advantage of the flavor while losing the texture inside a chewy mass of flour and sugar. Also tried were Domori’s Porcelena (soft but rich, with cherry pipe tobacco and creamy bread pudding like undertones) and their Cru Rio Caribe (complex, bright, but loud, disjointed, and strangely unappealing compared to the much more suble and enjoyable berry tones of the Bonnat I tried.) I also picked up a box of Galler’s funny little Cat Tongues for the boys, but alas, they take after their mother more then their father taste-wise, and were less than compelled by milk chocolate. They like M&Ms, so I thought maybe? But no. Give ‘em the straight stuff or don’t bother. Anyhow, my husband enjoyed them, though he too has fallen completely under the spell of those delighful Cluizel mushrooms.

So… uh, got any good chocolate? Because while I intended for this splurge to last, it doesn’t appear it will. Which is kind of sad. Okay, very sad. So spill the cocoa beans: Which chocolates are on your favorites list? What’s your worst choco-addiction? Lay it on me.

(For the record, I’m picky, but I’m not a snob. I lurve Violet Crumble candy bars, embarrassing as that is. It’s not embarrassing because of the taste, they’re scrummy, it’s just that the honeycomb gets stuck in the back corners of my mouth, which has the unfortunate effect of making me look A LOT LIKE MR. ED the entire time I’m eating one. I avoid public Violet Crumble consumption whenever possible.)

If you’re wanting a little inspiration for something new, too, try reading the reviews at seventypercent.com. I know everyone likes to make comparisons between perfume nuts and wine snobs, but I swear, those marvelous chocophiles are truly kindred spirits.

Image top is a screencapture from flash demo at thierrymugler.com. Second image from chocosphere.com.

Confidential to angry swarm of Shania Twain fans: I saw fragrance sets of Shania on clearance endcaps at Fred Meyer’s (Kroger) which I say not to be snide, but because discounts are awesome.

“Is jasmin, then, the mystical Meru - the centre, the Delphi, the Omphalos of the Floral World? Is it the point of departure - the one unapproachable and indivisible unit of fragrance? Is jasmin the Isis of flowers, with veiled face and covered feet, to be loved of all, yet discovered by none? Beautiful jasmin! If it be so, the rose ought to be dethroned, and the inimitable enthroned queen in her stead. Revolutions and abdications are exciting sports; suppose we create a civil war among the gardens, and crown the jasmin empress and queen of all.”

Charles Dickens in Household Words, 3 July 1857¹

Guerlain’s discontinued Jasmin, introduced in 1928, is a stunning example of what a soliflor can be. You can peruse shelves nowadays and find any numer of waters and toiletries labeled “jasmine,” but most disappoint the flower itself. They smell cheap, thin, and resemble the jasmine blossom about as much as a drag Bugs Bunny resembles a woman: only the naif Fudd is fooled by the ruse.

Jacques Guerlain acknowledged jasmine as delicate and substantial in his ode. Tender green leaves curl open; Fresh wild blooms litter the green spray with budding dots of color. Within seconds the whole composition is transformed into a yellow carpet of fragrance. The aroma bears a distinct creaminess that funnily calls to mind the texture of homemade pudding. (Cait, in her review of it at Legerdenez, aptly referred to a banana-like aroma to it.) Indolic and animalic tones spring gently from this fragrance. These tones smell of skin on skin, though Jasmin doesn’t smell skanky: She’s not a whore. (Or for that matter a wascally twansvestite wabbit.) Guerlain’s Jasmin is like Dickens’ beautiful garden goddess, a mysterious beauty seperated from others.

Alas, I must admit that I become a bit anosmic to parts of the scent quickly, unless I constantly “refresh” my nose. But that is only a word of warning when sniffing, not a warning against hunting the ol’ gal down for yourself. (The eBay seller, Dragonfly Scent Me is selling samples of the EdT, by the way.)

My thanks to March, who’s own take on this Guerlain classic can be read over at Perfume Posse.

¹Source: ‘A Romance of Perfume Lands, or, the Search for Capt. Jacob Cole”, by F.S. Clifford, 1880, p. 218

Images: Top photo taken by and uploaded to Flickr under a Creative Commons license by Laurence Shan. Filmstrip images compiled from the Looney Tunes classic, Rabbit of Seville, with Elmer Fudd’s scalp of red flowers replaced with yellow

Firstly, I have to share my excitement about the Valentine’s Day present I picked out for my husband. I wanted to get him something different, something new: a gift he’d never received before. He is in for the surprise of his life this year.

On February 14th, I’m going to give him The Clap!

However, if gonorrhea isn’t really your cup of tea but you’d still like to surprise that someone special in your life, nothing would bring a bigger smile to your Valentine’s face than discovering you shared a little syphilis with them. It’s so cuddly!

You give it with the confident knowledge that from now on, whenever they think of syphilis they’ll think of you…

… and Valentine’s Day. Or, as I like to call it,

V-D.

Moving along, then.

Snow, glorious snow. It’s both wonderful and disturbing in its quantity this year. The most recent rash of snowstorms dumped enough for us to really have some fun it it.

Not Fred, though. Oh no.

When he was younger, you couldn’t keep him out of the stuff. The last time we got great fluffy piles of it like this, he was only about 1 1/2 years old. He romped and frolicked in it with gleeful abandon. It took me, my parents, my sister and a neighbor kid to finally corral and contain him, and jerk him back indoors. (Yes, five of us. That’s one human to every 2 pounds of renegade dachshund.)

Now he’s old and cranky, and he was mightily pissed off at me for letting his yard become a crystalized wasteland. He did some of his, uh, business outside (and snorting indignantly about it the whole time) then ran mere inches back inside the door to piddle on the carpet. Bladder of RAGE!

It’s said* that Hell hath no furry like a wiener dog scorned.

He immedietly padded over to the cupboard for a cookie since he knew he deservered one. For his tribulations, you understand. A dog will forgive a great many things, but never, under any circumstance, should you be absolved of the sin for making him cold and wet. Chop off his balls, and he’ll gratefully curl into your lap on the way home from the vet. But cold plus wet? Forget about it. He’ll hate you until the spring thaw.
Onto actual perfume topics. Finally, right?

In this unusual cold, I’ve been wearing L’Instant Eau de Noel Iris Millesime for the past couple days.

The last time I tried L’Instant Noel was during more temperate temperatures, and it didn’t really work as well on me then. The base, specifically the vanillic element, encroached too deeply into the balance in the warmer weather. I liked it, just not enough to commit to a full bottle. Now that it’s this freaking cold, I can see why folks snapped it up like so many imaginary hotcakes.

The cool earthy tones of orris (iris) seem to reflect against the white winter chill well. Orbiting the featured orris are satellites of white floral notes that include jasmine, ylang, and magnolia. The base acts rather like a jewelry setting: It’s lovely and decorative, but ultimately shows off the sparkle of the showcase notes. Ambery wood and vanilla provide a steady static background for these notes to best shimmer and glow.

L’Instant smells of secret invisible winter blooms. The spring appears less distant; One only needs a spritz to figuratively coax hibernating iris bulbs to break through the frozen earth and remind oneself that the trees are only napping.

The staying power is ridiculously good on my skin. I share a single spritz between wrists and it lasts pretty much all day. However, most fragrances with a tangible vanilla note tend to stick like glue on me, so if anyone’s experience is otherwise, do share please.

(My other standby snow perfume, apparently, is Comme des Garcon Man 2, which positively sings more and more brilliantly the colder it gets. What an underrated, unusual gem it is on the “masculine” side of the fragrance counter.)

I have also been trying Jacques Fath’s Chasuble off and on for the past couple months. Or so. It took over six months to work up the nerve to crack open the still sealed bottle I found. Why would anyone have such goofy pangs of anxiety over than? Well, I’d been longing to try it for ages, and once I finally had it I was intimidated. What if I never find another bottle again? What if it was ruined? What if it was brilliant?

I’m both thrilled and sad to say that it is not ruined, and it is indeed brilliant.

I kept finding new little turns to it to appreciate, and can’t figure out what to say about it that will fully explain it. So, I’ll do what I always do, and empty out the cluttered junk drawer that is my brain. (There’s a lot of stuff in a junk drawer, but 99% of it isn’t really needed for anything in particular.)

I peg Chasuble as a wonderfully rich incense fragrance. On the top is a brief aromatic balsamic flash of mentholic pine that only slowly dims as the heat of skin warms the composition. The incense at its very core displays as unlit resin turned liquid over the middle period of wear. A peachy thread also runs through the heart, though it doesn’t disturb the incense. Rather, it filters in a brightly colored light across it. The peachy allusions quietly stream down as it dries, until it’s transmogrified into a different fruit altogether, reminding me of a cedar-plank baked yellow apple. The fruity element here is delicately laced into the other notes. On the drydown, rich woody and ambery vanillic notes emerge, and the incense finally feels lit, taking a slightly smokey turn. Chasuble wears as if in deliberate and meaningful ceremony.

It is a heady, swoon-worthy oriental fragrance. And it is as close to a personal Holy Grail perfume as I’ve ever gotten thus far. Which seems fitting. A chasuble, of course, is the vestament a priest or holy man wears during religious services. Being a rather irreligious person myself, Chasuble strikes me as a perfume nut’s ideal substitution for sanctity, when worshipping at the alter of fragrant revelation.

*I said it. Just now. Therefore, it is said, right?

Sephora.com has listed some items at sale price, though it’s kind of unoffficial since there’s no actual sale page yet. Most of the discounted fragrances are out of stock already, but they’ve still got Escada Pour Homme at a great price! $12! I bought two! (Hoarding, always hoarding. If only Chaucer had known a perfume addict: his tales might have been framed a little differently.)

Escada Pour Homme is a sweet woody fragrance, with a boozy aftertaste. It opens with a dry, slightly musky and woody aroma that feels rather boxy, or rigid, in construct. The brief flash of citrus at the top especially lends to this feeling. But the opening gives way to appealingly herbal lilts, with a warm masculine drydown that leaves the mouth watering and begging for a snifter raised to the lips. The heart and base notes also smell woody, even a tad spicy, while the cognac intonatations splash them into a cozy, cocktail sipping buzz.

I rarely suggest any fragrance should be worn exclusively by one gender, but I’m inclined to do so in this instance. The one time I wore it on myself in public, I kept looking around for the sexy guy wearing that delicious fragrance. Oh crap. The sexy guy was me every time. Eeeek.

At least I can definitively testify to its great sillage.

Escada Pour Homme would make a fun birthday gift for loved menfolk, though I specifically would recommend it to my male readers who think they’d enjoy wearing a little vanilla-laced aged cognac. And, sexy little Escada Pour Homme does pair up nicely with a Cognac Coupling cocktail in the evening if you decide you’re sick of only smelling tasty.

I believe Escada Pour Homme may have been discontinued? Although I’m not entirely sure about it, Pour Homme’s clearance price at Sephora seems to indicate that it may well be a goner, indeed.

The sunlight broke brightly on Danielle’s pale golden body. She felt solid, durable, yet her very essence remained transparent to anyone who looked.

She was new on the scene. Convinced she could she prove she wasn’t too soft for the ruthless perfume game, she regarded her sweet nature as an asset. Danielle swiftly sought to work her subtle charms as she entered the business.

She knew she must inspire everyone she encountered to fall madly in love with her, or the whole effort would be a waste. She wasn’t in it for passion, she was getting ahead. One by one, Danielle’s lovers would allow themselves to be seperated from their money. She’d make sure of that.

But a single person could change it all.

An individual who, in those very moments she pondered her future, might pull her close and murmur in velvet tones,

“My dear, you are lovely, like a fart cloud of roses.”

Source picture of the fragrance line from the official Danielle Steele website.

In a funny case of serendipity, Marina has written a review of Danielle today, too: Danielle at Perfume Smellin’ Things.

In a recent story for the NPR program All Things Considered, correspondent Susan Stone visited the Osmotheque, and interviewed the legendary perfumer Jean Kerleo. I had a chance to ask her some questions about that experience, her own perfume obsession, and chat up about some oldies but goodies.

What were your expectations for visiting the Osmotheque? What did you think it would be like, and how did your actual visit match up to or differ with your anticipated experience?

It was a bit more technical than I expected – more like a working research lab. The Osmotheque is technically inside ISPCA, the big perfumery school. There were lots of students milling around – we left around lunchtime, and I saw primarily young women. I was left wondering where all of them would end up working! It’s not really a museum – it’s an archive, or a conservatory.

Kerleo in his own words said,

“Our work at the Osmotheque is to preserve the evolution of perfume and perfume of the past and recent past so that students and people interested in perfume can come here, smell the perfume, and understand it.”

There are a small number of perfume bottles on display — Catherine Deneuve, Tabac Blond, Moustache, to name a few, and some framed vintage perfume ads on the walls. But it’s very quiet and simple.

Also on display is a coffret of Parfums de Rosine by Paul Poiret. The coffret was found in the cellar of Jean Patou’s factory by a worker who brought it to Kerleo. One of Poiret’s perfumers named Alméras, had moved to Jean Patou after Poiret went bankrupt in 1925. [Ed. Note: Henri Alméras was responsible for Poiret's Le Fruit Defendu, and such classics as Joy and Moment Supreme at Patou.] He stayed for 30 years, then when he left, some papers and belongings were left behind, including this amazing coffret.

Were you handled differently because you were visiting there in a journalistic capacity than a regular visitor might be? What might the average person expect to discover if they are allowed to visit?

Yes, absolutely. Primarily in that I was able to get an appointment on a day (Friday) they don’t usually invite guests. But, on the other hand, I also missed out on the special lectures they create for groups, including many more scents, and lots of raw materials to encounter. I get the impression that the level of information they provide to the public is at an extremely high and special level. In addition, I believe group tours are held in a sort of conference room, and since there were only two of us (me and my French friend/emergency translator) we were in with all the bottles and also in M. Kerleo’s office. There is also a cold storage cellar that few people see. I didn’t!

What was the most surprising or shocking thing you learned there?

I had asked Jean Kerleo how he decided which modern perfumes to archive, and was surprised that the Osmotheque gets its collection by donation. He had recently received bottles of the latest Serge Lutens while I was there.

Oh how awful! I’m quite surprised that companies don’t donate as a matter of course…. Why aren’t they more interested or invested in archiving their presumptive legacies, I wonder? Was this a source of frustration or disappointment for him, or did he seem sanguine about it all?

Many companies do donate, but I think he would always like to have more. Although keeping up with ALL the new releases every year would be exhausting, as perfume bloggers well know! Kerleo said they accept all things that are sent, and they add them to the Osmotheque’s collection. If there’s a big release and they don’t get it, they request it. He did seem sanguine about it. They have a list of the collection, and it ranges from Uninhibited by Cher to Chypre by Coty. And looking at some of the new donations listed on a recent newsletter, I see the Armani Prive line, Gaultier2, Eau pour soi by Roger & Gallet, La rose du Petit Prince, and Eau d’Iparie from L’Occitane, to name a few.

I was also surprised at how positive Kerleo was about the EU regulations on perfume. He seemed to think that perfumers could do amazing things with the ingredients available, so it should be no big problem. Then again, the Osmotheque is permitted to use banned or restricted substances in their reformulations – because they don’t sell them (and don’t seem to put them on the skin). He seemed more interested in the creativity and imagination of the perfumer than perceived limitations.

What was the most curious thing you learned?

The very first perfume they reproduced for the Osmotheque was Crepe du Chine by Millot – it was the first time they got a formula from a perfume house. I was surprised to learn that it was created by their in-house perfume — Jean Desprez — who later developed my beloved Bal a Versailles. M. Kerleo got out some Bal a Versailles special for me to smell. They don’t have the formula at the Osmotheque – the family sold the rights and the house and he said you can’t really even buy it in France. It seems funny to me that in Versailles, of all places, you can’t get Bal a Versailles. (Bal a Versailles can be found in Paris, just not everywhere or obviously…)

That is a sure travesty. Desprez made some amazing perfumes, and even all those others that escape the general public notice were heady and complex in ways that some of the more modern infamous fragrances never manage. Is he pursuing the formula from the current rights-owner? Given its importance and slow dissolve from shelves, I’d imagine it’d score high priority for them.

I honestly don’t know. The sample in the collection was given to the Osmotheque by the House of Jean Desprez, perhaps before it was sold.

You had the opportunity to smell a number of perfumes on your visit. Would you describe your favorite, and if you can, explain why it was your favorite?

That’s an easy one. Le Fruit Defendu, hands down. This is the perfume by Paul Poiret – Parfums Rosine - that scandalized WWI Paris. It’s very sweet, gourmand, foody. Not vanilla, but creamy, sort of powdery. What’s bizarre to me is that I have been getting olfactory flashbacks from it in modern perfumes. For example, Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant and Annayake Matsuri. I hate to say it, but cloying might be the best descriptor. In a good way? People hated it when it came out – they considered it too frivolous in light of the horrors of the war. Kerleo said even in 1990, when the Osmotheque opened, people thought the perfume was disgusting. Then came Angel. Now people who smell Le Fruit Defendu think it is a pleasant, modern scent. I think there is a bit of rotting corpse in there after all – Eau de CSI. I still like it.

I love your description of Fruit Defendu. It sounds like it would be mesmerizing to wear. Except I’d totally need the right outfit to go with it, you know? Like, you’d so want to be gloved and properly dressed to match. Not that I could carry off a single one of Poiret’s dresses, hee!

Me neither. I’m more of a Dior New Look kind of gal.

What, according to Kerleo, are the most requested perfumes that the Osmotheque holds?

Fougere Royal, and often Le Fruit Defendu these days.

How was the sniffing experience at the museum both similar to and different from sniffing at a shop or home trials?

You can’t put the fragrances on your skin. You can only smell them on the specific scent strips, which are dipped fresh for you. I don’t know if people ask to wear the fragrances – I didn’t. It seems a bit like asking to try on the First Ladies’ dresses at the Smithsonian.

What perfumer or house that you discussed with Jean Kerleo most intrigued you, and why?

I was really glad to be able to talk about Paul Poiret and to include him in my story. Of course, his perfume was a great way to end my story, but I also think he’s more forgotten than he should be, especially compared to Chanel. I studied the history of fashion design (very briefly) and used to read a lot about it, so some of these perfumers’ names are more known to me from clothing than fragrance.

How does the Osmotheque obtain its information on old formulas and histories? Do they get them directly from the houses? Or the perfumers themselves? Perhaps they must solicit them from the perfumer’s families or estates? Do they find this information given gladly, or must they convince the parties of their intents and aims?

Kerleo obtains original recipes from perfumers and perfume houses, and promises they will remain secret. They can study samples of scents, but it is very difficult to obtain a formula from a finished perfume. And it can take years to remake a perfume from the formula. Certainly, the crop of jasmine will not be exactly the same as in 1925. Then again, it might be just as good.

So, uh, Jacques Fath is a constant source of curiosity for me. what did you think about his Iris Gris? Did you learn anything about the legendary perfumer behind it or about Fath’s house you’d be willing to share?

For me personally, at the moment of sniffing Iris Gris had no “wow” to it, more of a “hmm…’ But I would say the scent really awakened my INTEREST in the smell of Iris. I’ve been checking out Hermes’ Hiris in the Duty Free lately, and I have a sample of DIVINE L’Homme Coeur that has an interesting Iris note. I think Iris is a flower that makes you think (or reflect) rather than instantly feel – perhaps it’s cerebral rather than visceral. Jean Kerleo said they consider Iris Gris very good, and very famous. You either like it or you don’t. Technically speaking, he considers it good work of a perfumer because it maintains the same character consistently – what you smell is what you get from the first impression. It doesn’t change – there’s no evolution from top note to heart note to base note – he admires its stability. It was also a very expensive product to produce due to the amount of real Iris used. I just took out the scent strip and sniffed it – it reminds me of putting my cheek against cold white marble. I’m not sure if that’s in a museum or in a mortuary. It feels a bit sad. What did you think of it?

I find it a strange resolution of conflicts. The way the orange blossom top hovers over the heavy orris butter like an aural blanket should smell incongruous and unbalanced, but it works. There’s something in it, as you say, of a mortuary. The base seems so earthy yet impenetrable. But there’s humid warmth there, too - perhaps a touch of something not unlike a dank root cellar in mid-summer. Iris Gris is so highly structured. I wonder if perhaps it struck you as passionless as a result, and maybe that’s why it seemed more contemplative to you instead of eliciting a swift visceral reaction?

Hmm…passionless. That seems harsh but accurate. Like something to be admired but not touched. Very much like some film divas from the Black and White era.

I need to ask you about Coty Chypre then, (which Ms. Stone was kind enough to share a scent strip with me) if Iris Gris was just a “hmm…” moment for you! There is a quality to it which smells like an animal that pissed itself in fear. That quality comes as a fantastic shock to the modern nose. This one HAD to have struck you in the gut. Did M. Kerleo share any thoughts on it while you sniffed? Any warnings come with it, heh?

No, no warnings. I think the disturbing notes come much later with this one. I have to say having just tried my first Caron (Parfum Sacre), I found the same element in it. I described it recently (I am so sorry…) as old lady underpants. Of course lots of people love Caron, and I’m sure they would love Coty Le Chypre. It’s very important to the Osmotheque. Kerleo said that it took quite a long time and many trials to remake, as they didn’t have the exact specific amounts for the formula for this one. He said some of his friends who were a bit older and thus had more of a connection with the scents of the period (Chypre is from 1917!) were able to lend a nose, and they gave the ok. It amazes me that these wonderful aging gentlemen of perfumery have such an astonishing scent memory.

I’m not even a little familiar with so many of those very old Houbigants - what on earth did you think of Vinaigre Aromatique?

The Osmotheque has several examples of vinegars in their collection – it was used medicinally. Even very famous houses like Guerlain began by making perfumed vinegars – before perfume! According to Jean Kerleo, the first product of Pierre-Francois Pascal Guerlain, the founder of the house of Guerlain, was a vinaigre de toilette. As you can imagine, these products start out with a strong vinegar smell. But it does dissipate, leaving a more pleasant, perfumed aroma. In the case of Vinaigre Aromatic de Houbigant, the lasting smell was light citrus. These vinegars were used to purify the skin, and to ward off disease, not to mention to distract a little from all the bad odors swarming around cities in the 18th and early 19th centuries. It was sold by pharmacists, not perfumers!

What’s your take on the differences between the old Idole and the relaunched reformulation of it (if you’ve tried it?) The original was not quite so whiskey- and vanilla- sweet to me. Perhaps you have a more interesting perspective?

The old Idole de Lubin and the new Idole de Lubin could be from separate planets! The original, from 1964, was a floral green women’s’ scent. Its creator is involved in the Osmotheque. The new Idole, in its Afrodesia bottle is Trader Vic’s done classy – boozy, spicy, warm and dark. M. Kerleo talked about a number of scents that have been introduced reusing old names: Emeraude by Coty, Champs Elysee by Guerlain, Tresor by Lancome.

Partially in thanks to Luca Turin’s new book, Kerleo’s recreation of Houbigant’s Fougere Royale is perhaps their most famous to us perfume-nuts now… What lingers in your own mind about it? What did Kerleo stress to you as the most important facet of its formula and/or recreation?

Well, it is the granddaddy of men’s colognes. Though it has to take responsibility for its swaggering grandson Drakkar Noir (the male equivalent to Giorgio in my poor nose’s formative years). I love Turin’s description of it being bathroom cologne – having a secret nastiness to it. Jean Kerleo told me a nice story about recreating this. He received the formula from Antoine Javel of Houbigant, who was really skeptical that Fougere Royal could be recreated. But Kerleo wore it 50 years ago when he was a young man, and he had a perfect memory of the scent. So he remade it, and gave it to Mr. Javel, who said it was exactly the same! Kerleo said it was fantastic to have proof!

It almost shocks me how ultra modern it smells! Almost a hyper-reality version of lavender, if you will. It’s hypnotic, the smoothness deceptively hiding its dirty underpinnings. Its “secret nastiness” contrasts interestingly to the less oblique skank lurking in some other vintage fragrances. And compared to the modern aesthete of explicit “niceness,” it’s profound, really. Thanks for sharing a scent strip with me.

What’s on your sniffing list outside of vintage fragrances or older houses?

I’d like to experience all of the Comme des Garcons scents, though I don’t know if I would like to wear them all! Also, I’m hoping to smell the Thierry Mugler coffret soon. I am doing a story about the film “Perfume” and will mention the coffret in the report.

How would you describe the difference between perfume shopping in Europe versus the U.S.? Is there one? Do you feel, if there is one, that it affects how you look at perfumery? Does it affect the perfumes you find yourself wanting to smell or the houses you want to explore?

I don’t think people in Europe can really imagine the level of perfumes to be found at discounters (sometimes) for just a few dollars. I do miss that about shopping in the states. But what’s been fun for me are the lovely niche perfume stores I have visited lately in Vienna and Geneva. It’s really nice to have some knowledge about perfume, because I think many of the employees really like to engage in conversation about fragrance, but don’t always get to. And that knowledge gets you some respect even when you aren’t wearing expensive clothing. I have managed to have more-or-less intelligent conversations about perfume in three different languages in the last month! It’s really so wild. I love that perfume is more a part of the culture in Europe. I didn’t know Robert Piguet was Swiss until I was in Geneva speaking (bad French) with a lovely woman at a perfume shop in the old part of the city.

In Berlin we don’t really have one nice niche store that I have found, but I must admit I haven’t looked all over town. I love to go to Galerie Lafayette here, because they have a great selection and it’s partially unsupervised. I can’t stand SA’s jumping on me! Though some, it must be said, are charming. We also have a really unusual luxury department store which seems to have EVERY holy grail perfume – 10 Corso Como, Miller et Bertaux, Keiko Mecheri, lots of CdG. But almost all their perfumes are crammed onto trays together, so it’s hard to see what they have. They also have a huge special Malle area, but I only braved it briefly, and what I thought I would like I didn’t (Noir Epices) I talked to the SA at this store about CdG Tea – my holy grail, which I finally have promised to me from a Basenoter. I am afraid I will hate it, but it’s been a quest of mine since I started reading the blogs. We have a CdG Store which I haven’t visited yet. I don’t know how much in the way of fragrance they have, but it should be an adventure.

How long have you been “into” perfume? Meaning, how long has it been a hobby or subject of interest for you?

My most recent interest, which I would describe at more of a cultural/sociological level was in all honesty sparked by Chandler Burr’s article about Jean-Claude Ellena and his designing of special scents for Hermes in the New Yorker. And of course his book “The Emperor of Scent” is one of my favorites – I’ve returned to it several times. And after reading it last fall, I started doing research online, and reading perfume blogs! But I had in fact been collecting books and research on perfume several years ago, back while I worked on NPR’s Science Desk (from 1997-1999). I wanted to do a “science of perfume” story, but never got around to it. (It’s funny that the notion became so popular!) And I have to admit, that when I think back to my dresser in Washington, DC (where I last lived in the States), it was covered with perfume bottles! A lot of miniatures in really cute bottles and a lot of things bought unsniffed that I didn’t really enjoy as much as I enjoy trying and reading about perfumes now. I had to pack up and get rid of a lot of things when I moved to Europe, so I think I threw out a lot of things I’d like to revist. Like my Vivienne Westwood miniature set. Argh.

My mother didn’t really wear perfume (she says it smells strange on her) but she did sell Avon when I was little, so I remember their solid perfumes fondly – maybe more for the packaging than the scent! Fun to play with. But my first real perfume was Bal a Versailles. My friend’s mother wore it, and on a school trip to London, my friend and I both bought the perfume. It came in such a lovely tiny bottle, in a gold and white pouch, in a special box. Then I started finding the EdC spray in local stores – a white bottle with gold lettering and a gold cap. I wore that all the time, and my boyfriend loved it. It smelled a bit like Dr. Pepper! You can only find the EdT these days, which I don’t think is the same for me. I also wore KL (which is on sale here in Berlin – I don’t know how I feel about that!) and on occasion Opium. I went to a big “Giorgio” and “Poison” high school so those are two things I can’t bear. Certainly I also bought drugstore stuff like Exclamation and Samba, and some essential oils.

What are some of your current favorite perfumes?

Right now, I am wearing MpG Ambre Precieux – it’s a sample. I’ve been trying many different perfumes in samples, as it’s sort of more fun than committing. I have bought a couple of bottles in the last year, but the implied commitment isn’t always there! For instance L’Artisan Bois Farine, which I like but don’t always turn to. I’ve also become interested in lot of “men’s” perfumes. Someone spritzed Guerlain’s L’Homme Instant Extreme on me in Heathrow airport last Christmas, and I made a face and bought two other things, but couldn’t stop smelling my arm an hour later. I finally tracked it down, but the top notes are a little rough. I like sandalwood, spices, amber. I’m not big on most flowers. A friend sent me a tiny sample of Michael Kors (almost all had leaked out in shipping) I was blown away by it. I was shocked. I think it was a Proustian experience of some sort – maybe reminding me of Tuberoses bought with an Indian-American friend in the flower market in Los Angeles, mixed with Gardenias from the front yard of my childhood home. I don’t know if I could wear it, but I like smelling it. I just completed my first MUA swap which will include a sample of Fracas – I live in fear of it, but I want to know! Oh, also, I just got a sample of M. Micallef Gaiac. It’s spicy, woody, sweet, mouthwatering. There might be a cotton candy undertone. I think I love it.

My thanks to Ms. Stone for sharing her thoughts, it was fun!

Coming up in the next week, I’ll finally share what I found when I cracked open a bottle of Jacques Fath’s first fragrance release, Chasuble, and after that hopefully something a little newer, too, since I’ve been trying the Les Nez fragrances off and on for the past few weeks.

All photos in this article were taken by Susan Stone, who has graciously allowed them to be published at Scentzilla. You can find more of her interesting photography, including shots of unusual subjects and street objects, at Flickr.

* Internet Exporer 7 is pants. I’m not sure what the deal with it is, and thus, my apologies to those of you who are using it to browse this site. That browser, and that browser alone, makes the comments appear screwy, and I don’t know how to fix that yet. I’ll keep at it, but I am not personally impressed by IE7. Sigh. If you like the tabbing feature on it, I strenuously suggest swiching over to Firefox, which handles “div”s (a component of most sites’ style sheets) with what seems like much better stability and standards compliance to me.

* I saw this news photo of a dog fashion show, and it’s so deeply wrong. It nearly completes some full octave of awful which circles around to hideously brilliant: meet meta dog.

* Christopher Brosius of CB I Hate Perfumes has been keeping a small online journal, and I am really enjoying reading it. I suppose this is old news to everyone, but I wanted to share the link: CB Journal.

* I found this little item from the Wall Street Journal interesting… Something about it appeals not to my fragrance-obsessive self, but to that little nine year old kid still in me that used to collect stickers. (The best ones to get were of course the scratch-and-sniff ones! Second best were the “puffy” ones.) Kraft Vies for Eyes — and Noses

* Not sure how I missed this earlier, but Hugo Boss’ campaign for their Green fragrances is really kind of neat. Sure doesn’t hurt that the campaign features Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, who is ever so pretty. Lots of images and info at the DWA Client page describing it. (Via AdRants.)

* If it wasn’t alreay clear, the whole celebrity fragrance thing has once and for all definitively “jumped the shark.” BetUs.com is now posting odds on which will be the next celebrity fragrance. Sure, it LOOKS like a big spoof-up, but when even Barry Manilow has a fragrance, I can’t help but feel there’s a grain of truth to it all.

* Coty’s Wild Musk commercial ranks at #29 on Giant Magazine’s 50 Greatest Commericals of the ’80s. Use it before you stalk? Egads!

Upon the occasion of the infamous Neiman Marcus Christmas catalog’s listing of the collected archives of Jacques Fath, I figured a brief choppy history of the man and his house might be in order. Of course, I am sure I could do a much better job of it if anyone would like to loan me a spare $3.5 million dollars… I swear I can totally pay you back!

Jacques Fath

(September 6, 1912 - November 13, 1954)

Jacques Fath began his fashion house in a small two-roomed salon on Rue de la Boetie, presenting his first collection in 1937. He later moved in 1940 to Rue Francois Premier¹, and then in 1944 settled into a studio at 39 Avenue Pierre 1er de Serbie.

Fath took a number of young designers under his wing, though perhaps the best known of the assistants he hired were Hubert de Givenchy, Guy Laroche, and Valentino². He also drew upon the talents of shoe designer Andre Perugia³.

The Paris studio Fath operated was fortunate to remain open during the entirety of Nazi occupation during WWII. His relative occupation-era success, viewed in certain quarters as a direct result of cooperating with the Germans and kowtowing to Vichy pressures, has only recently entered the discourse in the past decade. His association with various Nazi-Vichy sympathizers and a comparatively wealthy German clientele during those years certainly tarnished his status as a designer amongst some modern critics. Much of the credit for this discussion can apparently be attributed to Vallerie Guillaume’s 1993 book Jacques Fath, which looks into the house’s history. (I am hoping someday I will get my grubby little hands on Guillaume’s book. The book is neither easy nor cheap to find in the States, but I would love to read it.) However, it is also due to a slow but growing willingness to examine the survival strategies of ALL those famous French houses, not only Fath’s.

The period of French design during Nazi control is rarely discussed widely, but merits mentioning for historical context. Parisian designers like Maggy Rouff (who some of you perfume-nuts may know by association with Paul Poiret of Parfums Rosine, who sold designs to her), Marcel Rochas, Nina Ricci and others, also somehow kept afloat. They perisisted, despite their houses being practically decimated by the time Paris was free again. This was not due to the various designers’ artistic, or in some cases moral, inflexibility. Lucien Lelong, for instance, was also affected by the Mode Martiale of WWII; He was one of the more prominent designers to have talks directly with the German textile and fashion officials⁵ in his capacity as the design community’s nominated leader. Amongst other things, Lelong successfully dissuaded them from relocating the Parisians to establish Berlin and Vienna as the premier fashion capitals, diminishing France’s preeminence in the industry. The bureaucratic Nazis micromanaged every conceivable facet of life during their take-over, and the fashion industry was granted no exceptions. Author Valerie Steele notes⁴,

“…the Vichy regime adopted a fashion discourse similar to that in Facist Italy and Nazi Germany, stressing nationalism and conservative social values. Fashion designers were encouraged to draw inspiration from regional or ‘folk’ costumes; Jacques Fath, for example, designed dresses inspired by peasant costume. Fashion magazines were also encouraged to extol the traditional Frenchwoman, as opposed to the cosmopolitan Parisienne.”

A number of German-demanded regulations were bootstrapped onto all French designers, right down to which fabrics and the lengths of those fabrics that could be used. (Hence, the shorter hemline came into vogue.) Even the dates of release for the meager Paris collections were dictated by the German government.⁵

Lelong, of course, shook off the perception that he may have been a collaborator, later being granted status as a hero (Croix de Guerre and the Legion of Honor) due to his leadership in working for France’s intrests. Perhaps in contrast, we might glance over at Coco Chanel. The Nazi sympathies of Coco Chanel are widely known, due to her literal sleeping with the enemy. Yet Chanel is one of the most recogizable names in fashion. Ask the average person about Lelong, Fath, or other contemporaries, and you will only receive an empty-eyed “who?” in response. Exemplary behavior during that time clearly hasn’t been a necessary condition for achieving renown. Opening up the whole subject for further evaluation will hopefully occur even more over the years to come: This period for designers is historically interesting, and a story that may prove interesting to readers outside of costuming and fashion study.

At war’s end, the liberated French designers celebrated with profound creative renewal, most notably in the inspiring “New Look.” Christian Dior is regularly credited with the genesis of the “New Look,” yet it is not hard to see the premonitions and seeds of this movement in Fath’s earlier designs. In fact, there was even a bit of feud between Fath and Dior. Magazines devoted coverage to it, splashing headlines such as “Dior Contre Fath” (pictured) across their feature pages. What interesting things might have eventually evolved out of this rivalry we will never know, as Fath died at the young age of 42, while Dior went on to acheive even greater heights of popularity.

Fath’s eagerness to break into the American market and his ambitious pursuit of that goal, may have also been cause for scorn amongst his Parisian peers. In 1948, the New York-based clothier Joseph Halpert contracted with Fath to design special ready-to-wear collections for sales in the American market. (One such Halpert collection is Fath’s 1950 Puritan collection, whose theme rather funnily, to me, fetishizes the “American” aesthete.) Many of the cuts of his clothing from this time emphasize a fitted form, accentuating thin waists and using lines that minimally curve with the body.

Fath most famously sold his designs in the US at Neiman Marcus, some apparel bearing labels of both the famous store’s name and the designer’s. Neiman Marcus went so far as to bestow him with an “Award for Distinguished Service in the Field of Fashion” in appreciation. Time magazine noted of the occasion⁶:

“Couturier Jacques Fath, in Dallas to accept a fashion prize from the Neiman-Marcus store, got all dressed up in native costume (Western-style plaid shirt by Jacques Fath, glass-studded white leather belt by Neiman-Marcus, blue denim britches by Sears, Roebuck). Concluding that the U.S. square dance is ‘wonderful, wonderful,’ he announced that Paris would hear of the sport just as soon as he got home.”

His work soon became especially popular with the American women, and celebrites including Jacqueline Kennedy, Josephine Baker, and Rita Hayworth all wore his designs. He even designed Rita Hayworth’s wedding dress for the occasion of her marriage to Aly Khan in 1949. Additionally, his costume design for the Hollywood film The Red Shoes is quite well known, though he did contribute to a few others. His dress patterns through Vogue’s sewing pattern company also sold rather well to average women who enjoyed his style but couldn’t afford anything from his lines.

In 1939 he married Genevieve Boucher de la Bruyere, a celebrated “mannequin” and former secretary to Coco Chanel. The couple had one child, Philippe, born in 1943⁷. (Phillipe in turn had two children⁸, however the rights to the name have long been sold off, and I don’t believe they have any involvement with their grandfather’s house.) After Jacques died, the house briefly carried on for a few years under Mme. Fath’s direction until 1957. A number of the designs released under Genevieve’s time are as appealing as those M. Fath himself put out. The photo book Stella, about a frequent Fath mannequin named Stella Maret, demonstrates a fantastic range of designs issued in the years following M. Fath’s death. Genevieve was instrumental not only in keeping the name alive, but also in terms of creative input to her husband during his lifetime. What I find most touching about Fath’s story is not his beautiful clothing, or even his perfumes… it is this lovely woman, who had smarts behind her beauty. It is her influence which shaped many of his collections and the photography showing off his designs. She was a remarkable source of inspiration, but sometimes remained hidden behind the title of “wife.”

Fath himself was less than generous towards the female gender as a whole. He had notably declared⁹, “Women are bad fashion designers. The only role a woman should have in fashion is wearing clothes,” and “Fashion is an art and men are the artists.”

Jacques Fath was a flawed, imperfect man, but one with impeccable taste and talent. If we go rooting around into his contemporaries’ lives, I feel we’d come to much the same conclusions about them. But to whitewash is to render a subject dimensionless, and Fath deserves more than a flat treatment. And better than my pitifully edited summary, too.

The following is a complete list of perfumes made under the Jacques Fath label, some with brief olfactory information.

Perfumes released by Fath during his lifetime:

1945: Chasuble, floral woody oriental
1946: Iris Gris, floral fruity woody: perfumer Vincent Roubert
1950: Canasta, fruity chypre: not sure, but has perfumer Vincent Roubert’s fingerprints all over it
1953: Fath de Fath, floral woody and musky oriental
1953: Green Water, green aromatic citrus woody (for men): perfumer Vincent Roubert

Perfumes released under the Fath name after it was licensed to L’oreal:

1968: Fath’s Love, sparkling tuberose floral
1972: Ellipse
1977: Expression, floriental chypre

Perfumes, released and/or reforumulated & re-released, as the house experienced a revival in the 90s include:

1994: Fath de Fath, remade as fruity floriental with strong vanillic emphasis by perfumers Haarmann and Reimer¹⁰
1996: Eau de Fath¹¹
1998: Pour L’Homme (sometimes called simply “Jacques Fath”), fresh floriental (for men)
1999: Yin, fresh floriental
1999: Yang, green woody oriental (for men)

1. Elements of Fashion and Style, p.115, by G.J. Sumathi
2. Time, Feb. 5, 2003, “Is There A Future In Fashion’s Past?”
3. http://www.historyofashion.com/historyofashion/shoeperugia.html
4. Fifty Years of Fashion: New Look to Now, p.9, by Valerie Steele
5. Fashion Under the Occupation, various including appendix, by Miriam Kochan and Dominique Veillon
6. Time Magazine, 19 September, 1949, notes
7. Paris Match, 18 March, 1950
8. fashionfinds.com, site now defunct
9. Women Designers in the USA 1900 to 2000: Diversity and Difference, p. 194, by Pat Kirkham
10. New Perfume Handbook, p. 166, by Nigel Groom
11. Years of release for Eau de Fath through Yang via Basenotes.net.

UPDATE: There’s a great little short film showing off Fath clothing from 1956 on You Tube… just wonderful! For some reason I am having trouble embedding it today, so here’s a link to the You Tube page: Jacques Fath 1956