Chartreuse, Capri & Carthusia...

God love those crazy monks of the Carthusian Order. Dedicated to a life of solitude and holiness, in 1605 they still managed to invent the alcoholic liqueur Chartreuse from 130 herbal extracts. (Things must have become pret-ty rowdy at the monasteries on occasion). I suppose we can collectively thank them for sobering memories of our teenage introduction to the greeny-yellow demon drink, which - more often than not - either resulted in somebody getting hurt, arrested or violently ill.

Fortunately, their contribution to the finer things in life does not end with this kermit-coloured elixir.

Centuries before the cloistral distilleries were producing alcoholic beverages, the monks of Certosa San Giacomo in Italy are credited with the creation of the first perfume of Capri in 1380. In celebration of a visit by the Queen Giovanna d'Anglio to the monastery, a huge bouquet of locally grown flowers was arranged in her honour. Days after her departure when the flowers were thrown away, the prior noticed that the water had acquired a unique perfume. The scent was then re-created, and became the basis for several perfume formulas which were later uncovered in 1948 and revived by a small chemist in Torino under permission from the Pope. The tradition is being continued now by the niche house, Carthusia. Creating scents for both men and women, I am particularly fond of their creation Carthusia Uomo. Irresponsibly and flippantly reviewed by Tanya Sanchez in The Guide, this is a scent that deserves a closer look.

Uomo opens with a distinct marine-like quality. For a crushing millisecond your nose wants you to believe that you've smelled this creation before, but this sensation is only fleeting. Moments later, it is as if it's single marine accord blossoms into flower and each separate accord can be identified and accounted for: citrus, rosewood, seaweed, violet. Imagine a "standard" masculine oceanic scent, and then try to recreate it in your mind using 10,000 flowers... in this way, Uomo has a spectacular complexity. It is proudly masculine in nature - and distinctly Italian - but the complex and varied individual accords are delicate and soft - almost like muted building blocks that all amount to a boldly refined and elegant whole. Perhaps the most enjoyable quality of this fragrance is its very pleasurable dry-down. When warmed by your skin, rich animalic/musky accords emerge that are not the least bit unpleasant. A fine balance has been struck between the sharp and crisp accords, and the velvety dark ones. 

One wears Carthusia Uomo like a time-worn monk's robe. It is both modest and costume-like; revealing much about oneself, whilst at the same time, fostering an air of secrecy.

Hermés: Eau d'Orange Verte

Eau d'Orange Verte is, in my opinion, the jewel in the crown of citrus fragrances.

Created in 1979 by perfumer Francoise Caron for the house of Hermés, L'eau de Cologne Hermés was later re-christened Eau d'Orange Verte in 1997. 

This is a rousing blend whose topnotes sparkle with acidic lemon and zesty mandarin. It is instantly embracing, offering one of the finest bursts of citrus goodness on the market. There is a beautiful herbaceous greenness and delicate florals that allow this scent to truly blossom on the skin. It is deep and rich... layers of fragrant wood and patchouli beneath form a beautiful base upon which this composition rests. It is also vivid and dynamic... inspiring harmonious visions of warm Meditterranean days with the sun blazing overhead. One can imagine diving into a bottomless emerald lake surrounded by dense orange trees that are all releasing their energising perfume on the air.  

Part of Ed'OV's success lies with its old timeless, elegant charm. It is a scent which is both remarkably simple, and yet surprisingly profound.

Sadly, Eau d'Orange Verte (the original eau de cologne version) has disappointing persistence. Thirty minutes after application, little remains. But, for my money, those bracing luxurious minutes relished right after spraying, are well and truly worth it. In 2004, an eau de toilette version was created, named Concentrée d'Orange Verte, but as far as Im concerned, it falls well short of the original. What the concentrée makes up for in terms of longevity, it lacks in the integrity of the composition. It introduces an odd spearmint-like creaminess, that I feel detracts from the pristine clarity of its predecessor. The dry-down is also a little too synthetic, to my nose.

Hermés in-house 'nose' Jean-Claude Ellena  has contributed enormously to reviving the brand's fragrance profile. But he has big shoes to fill if he is ever to fabricate a scent that is as timeless and as lavish as this. Are you up to the challenge, Monsieur Ellena?

Another flea market find...

I'm beginning to turn into one of those people I used to point and laugh at a lot as a kid. Those types that would be up at the crack of dawn just so they could be amongst the first to trawl through other people's crap in the hope of finding a small trinket of some monetary or sentimental value. But living in Denmark has opened my eyes. If there's one thing the Danes do well - its flea markets!

Yesterday it just so happens my wife and I found ourselves in such a place. She was looking at old wooden furniture, and I was perusing tables covered in psychedelically-glazed pottery pieces and tarnished antique silverware. Then my eyes fell upon this charming little perfume bottle... a weighty object, gilt in gold and enamelled in vivid colours. Five dollars. It was mine. I opened the bottle in the hope I could smell the residue hiding within, and discovered it 70% full with a beautiful perfumed oil... something rich and mysterious. Something from the East. It was a fortunate find.

Then this got me thinking. I recalled the times in the past that I've come across countless flacons and vintage bottles of scent in various markets, antique stores and auction houses. I've previously purchased Worth's Je Reviens, Chanel's No. 5, Lanvin's Arpége, Arden's Bluegrass and Rochas' Madame Rochas for a fraction of their value. How did they come to leave the hands of their owners? I've always wondered. Deceased estates? Lack of love? Need for money?

I've been amazed at finding full, untouched bottles that perhaps had been put away for "good" - possibly an extravagant gift from a hard-working husband, somewhere back in time... one that never got worn because it was just far too precious. ...And here I am - decades later - faced with the same choice. Do I open these bottles and lavish these scents on my loved ones and allow all to experience their timeless richness and charm? Or, do I keep them sealed and preserve these aesthetically appealing and historically important objects from yesteryear? A tough decision to make. Whilst I contemplate, the collection, stored in a dark draw away from temperature and light; continues to grow.

Paloma Picasso's "Minotaure"

Pablo Picasso is a name permanently etched into twentieth-century history. To this day, the Andalusian-Spanish painter/sculptor is one of the most widely recognised figures for his distinctive body of work and his contribution in co-founding the Cubist art movement of the early 1900's. As a Spaniard, the bull and bullfighting made an early appearance in his work, and, in the 1930's, Picasso's works chiefly featured Le Minotaure - a half man half bull figure appended from Greek mythology. In Picasso's mind, and in his art, this ancient beast takes on various behaviours and roles. Sometimes begging compassion and sometimes the violent aggressor, the Minotaur emerged as the dominant figure in Picasso's works during this period, and many affirm that the beast represented the artist's alter-ego.

Much later, prior to his death in 1973, the artist's daughter Paloma Picasso featured in many of her father's works. In the following years, Paloma moved into the field of jewellery and fashion design, and created her eponymous perfume in 1984 - an opulent feminine chypre. In 1992 Paloma Picasso resurrected the Minotaur theme from her father's work and launched her first men's fragrance Minotaure.

To me, this IS the embodiment of the Mediterranean, in an unrestrained, virile manner. Its tangy blood-orange citrus head is swiftly underlined by radiant geranium and then warmed by smouldering sandalwood and spices. But at the heart of this beast is a very rich leather that can't be beaten. Raw, brawny and sexy, it has the provocative smell of a napped leather motorcycle jacket that has been warmed by a man's body - like a beating heart laid upon honey-like amber and soft musks. Much like her father's alter-ego, it is both tender and untamed.

This fragrance epitomises the feeling of a warm southern European night. It is an entrancing creation that will draw people in closer.
A work of art.

The rain in Spain falls mainly...

 As a kid, I grew up in New Zealand where I would witness torrential rain persist for weeks on end. Swollen, heavy droplets would fall from the heavens and dapple the ground. The aroma of the deluge was magical. There was something beautiful about the earth as it came alive with shimmering pools and silver rivulets of water.

Nowadays, as an adult, living in Scandinavia is not much different. The reality is that we get about 8 weeks of fine weather each year, and for the remaining ten months, we contend with grey skies, brisk winds and recurrent downpours. It can be disheartening and inconvenient. But on some occasions, I still like to stand at the windows of my sitting room and just watch the might and majesty of the rain. Water can be truly awe-inspiring. 

In perfumery, the element of water or l'eau is often reinterpreted by perfumers who seek to produce a scent that is sparklingly refreshing. Many of the world's finest noses have tried to capture the essence of water through olfaction. Surprisingly, the virtually unknown Australian boutique fragrance house Renée have made a regal effort in achieving just this. Simply titled L'eau, Renée offers an ethereal blend of spearmint, basil and mint - which is as crisp as fresh spring water - over a heart and base of rose, violet, nutmeg and dewy oakmoss. The result is a tender scent that is somehow both enlivening and calming. 

I find this an interesting study of the 'water' concept. Perhaps one might say that there is no truth to this perfume... that its components are diverse and arbitrary and nothing has been "appended" from the true elemental source. But water, ultimately, is odourless. So, with unabashed artistic freedom, I believe that L'eau embodies the true poetry and romance of a real summer thundershower.

L'eau is an eau de parfum, available in handy 10ml and 50ml sizes. Visit www.renee.com.au for more information.

Middle Eastern Perfumery

It is said that the trade routes in the Middle East for fragrant goods are believed to have existed as long as 4000 years ago. In the millennia since, with access to different herbs, spices and woods, Islamic cultures have contributed enormously to modern perfumery in perfecting extraction and distillation techniques. Perfume eventually made it to Europe around the 14th century, in part due to Arabic influences and expertise.

Today, perfumery in the Middle East is a colossal industry. Countless distilleries and distributors exist whom have perfected the art of raw material cultivation and oil extraction. In the arid desert sands, and across parts of South-East Asia, these companies dominate the global market with their production of rare concentrates and priceless oudhs.

Palatial retail outlets house exquisite flacons of cut crystal, semi-precious stones and rare metals that are designed and crafted with meticulous care so that they might hold a precious extract that is deemed fit for a king.

And we, in the West are more or less oblivious!

So you can imagine my excitement when today, my much anticipated oudh samples arrived in the post. The typically blonde Danish postman looked at me queerly when he handed me the envelope that contained these few precious drops of oil. We were both conscious of the heavy aroma that had engulfed his bicycle. He looked displeased. (Considering the number of times my mail had been misplaced or posted in my neighbour's box in error, I actually thought it was kack-funny).

I swiftly returned to my home office to smell the oils from each of the vials in turn. Bold, heavy, fecal, animalic. I had expected as much. The plastic pocket that housed the five vials emitted a collective odour that was thick and ripe... a collision of smells. But then, I discovered that each individual oudh presented something phenomenally different than the last. Amber, incense, musk, wood, green. Each vial hummed with a profoundly rich and distinctive aroma. I put the tubes back in the bag and tucked them away in a drawer.

I will delight in the occasion where I choose to anoint myself with a tiny pinprick of one of these precious oils. Hm, perhaps I'll just wait until the postman comes past...

Gaultier: It takes two...

Gents, let me ask you... have you ever worn a kilt? Despite the obvious associations with women's skirts and William Wallace wannabes, I can't tell you how liberating the experience is! 

I can say this now in hindsight, but a few years back when I was first offered my promotional uniform for the launch of Gaultier2, I was less than thrilled. When fashion maestro Jean Paul Gaultier unleashed his first unisex scent onto the world stage, he obviously wanted to do it with all the flamboyance and flair for which he is renowned. Gaultier2 was all about people coming together... succumbing to the magnetic attraction within. But for me - a man who faced public humiliation with hairy knees exposed - all I could focus on at the time were my jeering male colleagues, and pervy granny shoppers wielding hooked umbrella handles. But somehow, over the course of launch week, I managed to avoid a small army of skirt-chasing girls - and guys, - and grew to appreciate this incredible scent.

Gaultier2 (to the power of two) features three basic accords: amber, vanilla and musk. Though its relatively linear composition doesnt evolve much from first spritz to final wisp on the skin; it does shift somewhat between these three featured accords. Amber is the main star here - deep and resinous and warm. It melds on the skin like thick molasses and, when heated by your body, amplifies tenfold. The accompanying vanilla radiates this warmth and creates titanic sillage - imbuing the air with a honeyed incandescent warmth. The underlying musk is not overtly animalic - but is ever-present to suggest something distinctly organic... the overall experience being like the heat of two bodies pressed together and the friction between them... tempestuous, fiery, tender.

G2 is not everyone's bag, but it does do exceptionally well that which it was originally intended to do... to illustrate and intensify the magnetism and volatility of attraction between two people, irrespective of gender and age. 

Though initially luke-warm, the response to this fragrance has since seen a steady increase in its admirers. It is very appealing.

And, just for the record; by the end of launch week when the kilt was dry cleaned and returned, I don't know who was more disappointed to see it go: myself or the Mrs.
Or perhaps those salacious senior citizens!

Recommended Reading: The Perfect Scent.

More often than not, I tend to have 5 or 6 books on the go at once. Right now, I currently have an unfinished 'to read' stack comprising two novels, one anthology, and one (rather compelling) esoteric journal. I browse through any one of them before bed or on lazy sunday afternoons on the sofa, whilst the typical Danish weather turns miserable outside.

Seldom do I find a book which is moved briskly to the top of the pile - one that takes precedence over all others - but in the case of Chandler Burr's "The Perfect Scent", I happened to make an exception.

Chandler Burr is the in-house perfume critic for the New York Times, and is revered by many living stateside as the 'guy in the know' where fine fragrance is concerned. Though I seldom share his opinions, I do enjoy his captivating style of writing. Professionally, Burr always makes a point of staying informed, and in this book he reports on the perfume industry by spending a year inside a New York perfume giant, and a Parisian powerhouse. 

Burr lifts the lid on the industry and follows the creation of two new scents: Un Jardin sur le Nil by French luxury house Hermés, and Lovely, the celebrity scent release by actress Sarah Jessica Parker for Coty. He does so with a keen eye (and nose) and a fine-tuned sensitivity to the industriousness of both houses. It makes for fascinating reading. Burr doesn't hesitate to name names and divulge sums as he delves into the cutthroat world of competing firms, secret perfume formulations, global successes and embarrassing failures. I devoured it whole in just a couple of afternoons.

I would strongly recommend this reading for anyone even remotely interested in the fine fragrance world. It does well to open ones eyes to a $26 billion dollar a year industry that must constantly find a balance between modern attitudes and centuries-old tradition. 

Olivier Durbano: Mineral Magic.

There is a long history in perfumery that has seen many high-end jewelers launch lavish perfumes for the well-heeled (and not-so well-heeled). Tiffany's, Cartier, Chopard and Van Cleef & Arpels are amongst the big names that have capitalized on their established brands to bring us opulent fragrances in breathtaking flacons that shimmer like faceted gems. With millions spent on advertising, these names are synonymous with style and elegance. One can quite easily draw parallels between the exquisite craftsmanship of a Bvlgari pendant, and an exceptionally crafted scent - something heavy with uncommon white florals and hypnotizing musks. So, in a global market driven by consumerism and excess, I find it refreshing to find a distinctive fragrance released by jeweler-turned-niche-perfumer Olivier Durbano - a scent that is not inspired by priceless gemstones; but rather one of the most common, unassuming minerals known to man. 

Rock Crystal is the first in a series of seven perfumes or "stone poems" that explore man's link to precious or primitive stones, and '... serve as contemporary talismans to offer in a world of pureness, harmony and serenity'. What I find truly remarkable about this unisex release, is that it is strikingly true to its name and creates an aura that is both natural and elemental. It opens with a contradictory "wet dryness", much like the moist trapped air one imagines fills cavernous halls deep beneath the earth's surface. It is both earthy and airy, and hot and cold. A sharp, transparent orange accord plays over fragrant woods, husky frankincense, spices and vetiver. The result communicates a sense of primordial familiarity... as though somewhere in the dark recesses of our DNA, we might once have smelled this before.

This scent seems to have a personality all of its own... deep, unpretentious, mysterious, and yet somewhat fragile - much like the long glassy shards that blossom beneath the earth in brittle stone florets over the millennia.

Durbano's interpretation of natural quartz crystal has impressive persistence, and, to my mind, is an absolute triumph. The understated bottle is simple and effective, and the small stone crystals floating at the bottom is a very nice touch. But the true treasure is in the juice itself.

Similar in nature to Tauer's L'air du Desert Marocain, Rock Crystal is a scent to be celebrated.

Olivier Durbano produces exceptional hand-crafted jewellery. Visit his website (access upon request) at: www.olivierdurbano.com

Vetiver Extraordinaire: Very extraordinary Vetiver.

Frederic Malle's Editions de Parfums comprises 16 individual fragrances which can be attributed to the collective efforts of some of the world's most accomplished perfumers. The register of contributing creators reads like royalty... many of whom are responsible for some of the most successful perfume releases of all time. These ultra exclusive scents demonstrate the staggering technical proficiency and years of experience that each of these 'noses' has acquired in developing their craft. To my mind, Vetiver Extraordinaire, the work of Dominique Ropion, is the stand-out scent from this collection.

Until my first exposure to Vetiver Extraordinaire I didn't care much for vetivers. I had never really found one that communicated the aromatic qualities that I had longed for: deep, semi-sweet, semi-green, earthy, woodiness.  As a native perennial grass to India (but also cultivated in the tropics), I sought the kind of scent redolent of its homeland. And I believe Ropion has succeeded here.

Vetiver Extraordinaire is a scent with exciting contrasts that flitter between bitter and semi-sweet, green and arid, earthy and ethereal. It is enhanced by light citruses and a very desirable sprinkling of spice: specifically nutmeg. The unusual blend however, almost conjures a ghost-like whisper of cumin that shifts beneath the surface.

I find it an inspired creation: very wearable, earthy, and grounding. It is understated and refined, and mercifully, has remarkable persistence. Beautifully crafted, and a joy to wear. It would take either a genius or a madman to create a vetiver that is more accomplished than this.