Author: Undina

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Everything Is Relative

He didn’t feel comfortable. Not comfortable at all. He had never bought anything from that type of stores before. But it was her birthday. So he sighed deeply end entered.

“Hello Mr. Stone! Or do you prefer Tom?” a bright-eyed, professionally exuberant shopping assistant smiled at him.

Some of his friends though it was spiffy when kids addressed them by their first names so he went along with that but he could never understand the idea of complete strangers’ familiarity, “Mr. Stone is fine.”

“Mr. Stone, I’m Cindy; I will be your Scent Guide today. Are you looking for something new for yourself?”

“I need to buy a gift… A perfume…” he paused trying to collect the thoughts: everything he saw looked a little strange and not the way he remembered or expected.

“Would you like to try the newest flavor from PepsiCo?” she made a slight move towards the stand on her left.

“No-no, I don’t need the newest…” A couple of times when he brought her something a sales assistant persuaded him “everybody is crazy about”, she thanked him with a polite smile but later, as if without connection to anything, she would go on and on: “I don’t understand why they try to re-invent the wheel: my favorite perfume was just perfect – why did they have to discontinue it?!”

“Oh, I see, Mr. Stone,” the girl smiled understandingly. “Here, Blanc Noir is one of the best sellers for the last couple of years. It’s a truly unisex composition and it’s very popular with our customers.”

“Sorry, Cindy, I didn’t explain it right… I’m looking for the special perfume. I need…” he chuckled apologetically. “Of course, now I can’t remember the name… Wait… I have it somewhere… somewhere… Right! Here it is.”

She looked at the name blankly and paused looking at the surface in front of her; then a flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes but was quickly replaced with almost disdain, “Oh, it’s an “old lady” perfume…” she burst out, then stopped herself and tried to recover, “I mean, nobody uses this one any more…”

“My mom is 70, so I think she would qualify,” he smiled for the first time.

“Of course, Mr. Stone. I’m sorry. Just a second, I’ll start your order,” she re-applied the cheerful smile to her lips. “What application form does your mother prefer? Do you want it as a drink, pill, food supplement or a patch?

“I need a perfume…” he felt as if they were speaking different languages.

“You mean, you want it in its historical form, in a bottle?” she tried very hard not to sound surprised.

“Yes, please!” he made an effort not to get annoyed telling himself that it was just a usual arrogance of youth.

“Here’s your order summary. Please check the price and your payment credentials. We scanned your biometric information at the beginning of the session but you know how those systems are sometimes…”

“Everything looks correct.”

“Great! We’re almost done,” her smile was shining exactly the way it was in the beginning of his visit. “Please make sure your 4-D printer is on. When ready, just say “Deliver!” or use OK gesture. I’ll stay online until your order is delivered.”

“Thank you, Cindy. You’ve been helpful.”

“Thank you for shopping with us, Mr. Stone! I hope to see you again soon.”

…

He fiddled with the bottle for a while: it looked very similar to those he saw on his mother’s dresser when he grew up. He didn’t remember the scent but hoped she would like it as much as the perfume the memory of which she loved.

V&R Bonbon

This fantasy came from my thinking on the topic after reading “old lady perfume” musings of one of the young(er) bloggers (yes, believe it or not, there are some people who consider themselves perfumistas and still use that term!) And though I’m still some years away from qualifying, for some reason it bothered me enough to create that story. It must be age-related.

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Perfume Shelf Life

For a while I was collecting DVD. My rule was to buy only those movies that I watched, liked and wanted to have in my collection. What I noticed over time: once a movie got on the shelf I would rarely watch it again. I would still like the movie, think it is great and even watch a big chunk of it if I would catch it while switching TV channels, but whenever choosing what to watch, I would almost never go for a DVD I own.

My DVDs

Recently I came across an interesting project – Found in Translation. A graphic designer Anjana Ilyer creates posters to illustrate words in other languages with no direct English equivalent. One of the words that grabbed my attention is similar in spirit but describes a different medium: Tsundoku – a Japanese word that means “the act of leaving a book unread after buying it, typically piling it up together with other such unread books.” I’m guilty of that behavior with the only difference: the books I buy and plan to read go directly on a shelf in my bookcase.

Tsundoku

Why should it be different when it comes to perfumes, right? I have a number of bottles in my collection that weren’t impulse buys – I tried them, liked and even hunted some of them; I didn’t get tired of them and do not consider them albatrosses – and still whenever choosing what to wear I pass them by and they spend most of the time just sitting on one of the perfume shelves in my closet.

Amarige Harvest Mimosa 2007 by Givenchy is one of those “tsundoku” perfumes. I tried it first at some duty-free store at the airport and liked it. I got a sample and as it was nearing the end I liked it more and more. By the time I decided I wanted Amarige Harvest Mimosa, being a limited edition, it was gone. But I was persistent and eventually a very reasonably priced bottle joined my collection. I still think it’s great and I’m glad I have it but the last time I wore it was while writing the post about mimosa-centric perfumes… three years ago. Since then it has been safely stored all the way back on the perfume shelf. For notes and actual review read The Non-Blonde.

Rusty and Amarige Mimosa 2007

It must be something with shelves in my house…

 

Images: poster by Anjana Ilyer; two other – my own.

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Memories, Dreams, Reflections…

Going through life we keep bits and pieces from the past – memories, mementoes and keepsakes. When I feel happy or if I’m sad I would go through that eclectic collection to smile, relive some moments or just to assess my possessions. Interestingly, I often find perfumes among those tokens of the past but, of course, people I love hold the primary spots…

*

The first memory ever from my childhood that I think I have: I’m standing in my crib, I see my mother washing something in the bathroom under the running water. I want to call her but I can’t: I’m not talking yet.

I was told that I started talking when I was ten months old but in that memory I felt frustrated by not being able to attract my mother’s attention. I really needed her! Can it be an actual memory from when I was 10 m.o.? Or was it a dream that I had later? I can’t be sure but it’s a fact that before I was two we moved from the apartment where I could see a bathroom from my room and I’ve never been back to it.

*

The first fashion item I remember was a shorts and top set – a gift from a distant relative from the U.S. – that miraculously made its way to me through the iron curtain. I was about five. It was so different from everything I had to wear then and I loved it and wore it whenever allowed.

My Mother and I
That summer my parents took me to a seaside vacation. I don’t have a continuous picture of the events and don’t even know how long we stayed there but I have random glimpses from that trip (and a photo above to demonstrate the top from the set that traveled to me halfway around the World).

… We rented a room at the apartment (with owners living in the next room). It was on the second floor and one night somebody used a ladder and tried to steal my parents’ jeans (a valuable and almost unobtainable commodity at the time). I don’t remember if they succeeded but it caused an animated discussion the next morning between all inhabitants of the apartment.

… One day when my father, who could tolerate sun a little bit better than both my mom and I, decided to stay on the beach longer, and two of us were walking back to the apartment, some guy paid my mother a compliment saying that she looked like my older sister. We both were pleased.

… On our landlady’s bookshelf there was a perfume that completely seized my attention. First of all, the name was Zolushka (which means Cinderella). In addition to that, the box had a double wall and if you were to carefully push Cinderella away from the mirror you could see her dress. I can’t tell if I smelled the perfume but I immediately fell in love with its box.

Zolushka Perfume
I used all the charm I had to convey to the landlady how much I liked the box and would love to own it. No luck: I got a typical answer of an adult who counts on a short attention span of a child: “Maybe the next time when you come to visit and I’m done with the perfume…” I bet she couldn’t even imagine how good my memory was…

*

For many years after that, whenever I was at a store that had a beauty department, I would be looking for Zolushka. I’m not sure I would be able to persuade my parents to buy it for me but I didn’t think that far – I wanted to find it.

I’ve never seen that perfume or that box again – until I started looking online for pictures of it now, many decades later. Now I wonder: was there actually a dress inside that looking-glass? Maybe I forgot and it’s a mermaid tail?

Rusty and my top
This top came back to the U.S. with me. It’s the oldest material possession I have. At some point it was touched by every woman in my family so it’s very dear to me. And look at that orange cat! (I’m not talking about Rusty).

As children we have a luxury of a hope that if you want something badly your wish might come true. As adults we know that sometimes no matter how much you want something to happen it’s not possible. Sometimes it really hurts. But, as an advantage of the age, we get to cherish memories, dreams and reflections of the past. If we are lucky, both those remembrances and our memory are good.

I am lucky.

Images: Zolushka perfume found somewhere; my mom and I – an unknown street photographer, Rusty and my top – my own.

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Are you a Perfume Extrovert or Introvert?

When asked about their perfume hobby some people admit that they are open and outgoing about it, others are secretive – not to be ridiculed, get disapproval or just because they are very private. I’m not sure if personality types are directly connected to how we communicate our love of perfume to the world or if it has a more complex correlation but there are definitely Perfume Introverts and Perfume Extroverts. I am the latter.

Rusty "extrovert"

I was sharing my love for perfume long before I discovered Perfumeland or started this blog. I would talk about new [mainstream] releases with friends and co-workers who expressed any interest in perfumes. I would be finding best online deals when somebody was looking for something (that was in pre- and early-Google times). And I would always try to recruit more followers into this not so secret society.

My tally? Not counting minor wins here and there, I have three success stories.

Two friends – one of whom has never worn perfumes before (because they all were too perfume-y) and one who did it very sporadically – under my influence and with my help found perfumes to love and wear. Interestingly, for both of them those were Jo Malone‘s perfumes – Nectarine Blossom & Honey, Vanilla & Anise and Black Vetyver Café for one of them and Wild Fig & Cassis and French Lime Blossom for the other. That’s why I’m persuaded that Jo Malone is a great “starter house.”

My best friend L., who lives half the world away from me, for many years stayed faithful to her signature scent – GF Ferre Lei-Her. After it got discontinued for a while she was able to find another bottle. When she couldn’t find it any longer, she started exploring the current offerings (very-very mainstream), got completely disappointed (who wouldn’t!) and almost swore off perfume. Last year when I visited her I brought with me more than a dozen samples and decants. That was the first time L. realized that there was something beyond pink fruitchulies that invaded the market. After that we went together to the high(er)-end perfume store (the one she was too intimidated to visit on her own before). There L. surprised me: while she did like some of the perfumes I suggested her to try – Prada Infusion d’Iris, Guerlain Champs-Élysées and Cartier Baiser Volé – she absolutely loved Juliette Has A Gun Midnight Oud and a couple of Montale‘s perfumes – not the most obvious choice for a newbie. She keeps exploring and I’m sure she’s on the right track now.

During her recent visit Suzanne (Eiderdown Press) told me one of her success stories. I liked it so much that I asked Suzanne to write it up to share with you. She did:

My friend M is someone I met in a writing group. It wasn’t even a group, there were only three of us, so we got to know each other fairly well in the space of a year—our literary tastes and styles, first and foremost. M wrote both fiction and poetry, and while her fiction was a poignant lens that allowed one to gain insight into the workings of a person’s mind (into the minds of characters who represented the baffling array of human behaviors), her poetry was different: it was more personal and sensual and often seemed to speak of “home”—of the rites of passage that sisters go through together, or the memories of a stepmother who’d been in Europe at the end of World War II, for instance. Given the nature of her writing—its private turning-point moments that hinge on such things as the remembrance of her stepmother giving M her first ‘perm’ (the smell of the hair perming solution, the fitful way she felt about it, and how it became an anchor for stories her stepmother told during this session)—I was rather surprised at the disinterested reaction I got from her when I first started talking about perfume.

By this time, our writing trio had disbanded because our other friend had moved away, and I was taking a break from fiction to start a perfume blog. I remember M’s puzzled look as she questioned how one would go about writing about perfume—and the look of even deeper puzzlement (the slight snicker and firm wave-off of her hand) when I asked if she’d like to sample some perfumes. I forget her reasons for declining my offer, so perhaps it’s unfair of me to surmise, but I got the distinct feeling that she saw perfume as something that would clash with her professional image (as a senior lecturer at the nearby university, teaching women’s studies and writing). Maybe because I was in the early stages of perfume infatuation … well, I’m not sure why I felt this deep conviction, but I did: I felt that anyone who wrote as M did would have to love perfume—would understand its deep connection to memory, to sensuality, to individuality. If she’d been a science fiction writer, I wouldn’t have bothered to try to convert her, but in November 2007, just before Thanksgiving, when the first snowflakes were floating in the air, I decanted some Chanel Coromandel for her, calling it “an early Christmas present” when we met for lunch. She accepted it graciously but skeptically—and I made sure to be nonchalant. I told her she could give it back if it didn’t suit her—that I simply thought it had a beautiful frankincense note that might appeal. In my head, though, I was convinced that it would be airy enough not to frighten her, and at the same time, have a sense of gravity that would appeal to her serious side—and I was right. M fell deeply for Coromandel and within a few days was requesting other perfume samples. Now, six and a half years later, she has a few other favorites (Montale Black Aoud is one) but Coromandel is pretty much her signature scent.

Hajusuuri, a guest writer on my blog, also agreed to share her success story:

Many years ago, more years than I care to remember, my sister and I went to Boston on vacation. For two shopaholics, there was no better place to window-shop than posh Newbury Street where we chanced upon a small perfumery. While we were not into perfumes, we browsed around anyway. If memory serves me right, that shop sold only custom-blended essential oils, which were available only in roll-on bottles. My sister bought several while I left without purchasing anything. Year after year, she would call the store to place an order to replenish. In 2008, she said that the perfumery moved to Colorado but that she was still able to call Dawn to place her order for China Rain blend and French Lily.

I fell down the rabbit hole around 2010-2011 and have grown a too-big collection of mainstream and indie/niche perfumes. In 2011, I somehow managed to convince my sister that she should expand her perfume horizon and consider checking out better mainstream perfumes because her little perfumery probably moved to Colorado due to a business slow-down, that it probably could not afford to stay in Boston and who knows for how much longer it will be open. Since then, she had acquired Elie Saab, Jo Malone Black Vetyver Café, Jo Malone Peony and Blush Suede and Cartier Baiser Vole Essence – a pretty decent collection, don’t you think?

But wait! There’s more!

When Undina first suggested a Success Stories post, I immediately thought of my sister as my success story. Curious as to whether or not I could figure out the name of the perfumery that moved to Colorado, I googled “Newbury Perfume Colorado”. The first entry from that search yielded “Essence Studio – Boulder Colorado”. Clicking through to the entry and then the Visit Website link, I was shocked to be redirected to DSH Perfumes. The “Dawn” my sister spoke with to place her orders turned out to be none other than American perfumer extraordinaire, Dawn Spencer Hurwitz!

Now excuse me while I go sit in the timeout corner…

Rusty "introvert"

Are you a Perfume Extrovert or a Perfume Introvert? Have you converted anybody?

Share your success stories in comments (or give a link to your posts on the topic).

 

Images: my own

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A Postcard from Undina: A Smile a Day… (but may I still keep the Doctor)?

Yesterday Hugh Laurie (aka Dr. House) told me: “You smell great.“

 

Ha! How great would that have been if I could just stop right there? Of course, he didn’t tell it to me personally. While opening his concert with The Copper Bottom Band at the outdoor stage of the Montalvo Arts Center at Saratoga, Hugh Laurie said referring to performing in the daylight (citing from memory):

You have no idea how unnerving it is being able to look out and see all your faces. Not that you have unnerving faces — not at all. In fact, you are uniformly chiseled and well moisturized. And you smell great.

Hugh Laurie at Villa Montalvo

I would love to say that Fleur de Chine by Tom Ford that I wore has contributed to the collective perfumed aura at the concert but in reality the wonderful aroma that filled up the evening was coming from a couple of big linden trees in bloom. It was … breathtaking.

House M.D. is one of my all-time favorite TV shows. And the main reason I went to the concert was to see Hugh Laurie live. I got much more than I expected: the concert was glorious and Mr. Laurie was charming, witty and scintillating. He plays piano and guitar, sings, dances tango and drinks whiskey (he said he’d invented the tradition for the band: mid-concert they were served a shot of whiskey – right on stage).

If all that weren’t enough for me to be completely enchanted by the artist, there was more: during the concert Hugh Laurie made my vSO laugh several times (which doesn’t happen too often!). Also he invited me for a dance of Argentine tango… Wait… That part wasn’t real. I went to bed thinking about the concert and this post and in my dream Hugh Laurie and I just happened to be at the same milonga. Cabeceo, I nodded, he smiled – and we started dancing. None of it – dancing or dreaming about people I do not know – happens to me too often. But that was how much that performance influenced me. See the tango that made such a strong impression on me (video isn’t mine):

 

Image: my own

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Mission: Impossible Iris

She is tall and slender, with very feminine forms, humanoid face and unmistakably alien head with tentacle-like protrusions. She walks a little strange, balancing from side to side. With her light blue skin, navy lips and black nails there’s nothing human in her appearance. She looks cold, emotionless and reserved. She’s a monster. But then she starts singing and everything changes: she warms up, becomes alive and you just can’t stop watching her facial expressions and moves of her hands while she performs the composition in [almost*] humanly impossible ranges. She seems really beautiful and almost human.

Diva Plavalaguna

Impossible Iris is a great name for a perfume. How does one live up to such a name? Ramon Monegal found a perfect solution: his Iris Impossible isn’t about iris. Of course, iris is present but not only it is not in its expected and well-recognized earthy-root-y facet but it is also so well blended with other notes (according to Fragrantica – mimosa, raspberry, Ylang-ylang, jasmine and Virginian cedar) that regular people (the ones without a super-nose or a list of notes) wouldn’t be able to identify what they smell. Reviewers are all over the place describing which notes they smell the most prominently in this perfume. I declare my inability to pick out any of them – even though I think I know how those notes are supposed to smell.

Impossible Iris starts strange and a little aloof (especially if worn in the colder weather). It smells… the word “artificial” has a negative connotation, which isn’t my intent, but I don’t know how to describe this perfume better. It smells not natural – similar to how Mugler‘s Angel smells not natural (though I’m not trying to compare scents themselves). I do not recognize the scent of any of the listed elements but the composition smells good. As time goes by, Impossible Iris warms up, loses its otherworldliness and becomes more familiar and approachable. It sings on skin and it is beautiful.

Ramon Monegal Impossible Iris

Impossible Iris for me is that Diva Plavalaguna of the Perfumeland. I got the first sample because I liked the name. When I applied the perfume for the first time, it wasn’t what I expected or wanted it to be. But it was weird and interesting. And captivating. And I couldn’t stop sniffing my wrist – all the way through a couple of samples to a bottle in my collection.

I don’t know what it is with me, iris perfumes and aliens: it’s the second time I drew that type of association (the previous time it was Alien wears Prada Infusion d’Iris). If you haven’t seen it yet (or don’t remember it well), watch the clip and tell me if you see what I see:

 

Images: Diva Plavalaguna – from the video; perfume – my own

* IMDB trivia on this movie mentions that the singer, Inva Mula, commented to the composer that “some of the notes written were not humanly possible to achieve because the human voice cannot change notes that fast” so she performed those notes in isolation – one by one, and they were edited into the aria. Since then there were at least several claims by different singers of performing the same composition live. You can easily find their clips online but I don’t know either if those are really unedited recordings or if they actually are doing it exactly to the original (my abilities are not good enough to hear that).

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War’s Unwomanly Face: Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

Even though I was born to the generation born to the generation that went through the War, we grew up knowing about that war, remembering it and not leaving it behind us. Not only around holidays and special dates, but all year round we were watching movies about that war, reading books, listening to songs. We had our own mythology that became a common knowledge, the uniting force. Fascism wasn’t an abstract term: we knew a lot about it and hated it. Even people who opposed the Soviet regime held that war sacred. It was our war.

Of course, we knew about World War II, allies, joint effort to defeat Nazi Germany but in the country we always thought and talked about it as of the Great Patriotic War 1941-1945.The USSR lost twenty million people to this war. There were probably no families not affected by that war. It was our War. It was our Victory.

One important part of that patriotic mythology was an image of the Russian Soldier – the Defender, the Protector, the Liberator.

Soviet War Memorial in Berlin

So when I first read the explanation behind Serge Lutens‘ La Fille de Berlin perfume in Kafka’s review, I was appalled: how could he?! How dared he?!! They had started it! They were enemies who invaded our country, who methodically exterminated civil population, destroyed cultural heritage and stole everything they could steal – and they did it not even on an individual level but as an organized and controlled plan.

I understand that any war has multiple faces and that regular people who might have not contributed to their country’s decision to start a war might suffer from it as a result. I understand that horrible actions of one side do not justify those same actions from the other. But while Nazi Germany for years tortured and killed millions of civilians – just for belonging to the “wrong” nation or ethnic groups – as well as employed forced laborers, killed POWs and bombed hospitals, Germany got to endure the hardship of the regular army occupation for a couple of months (I’m talking just about the after war chaos since later both the Soviet and the U.S. authorities put an end to an uncontrolled violence) – and we should pay a tribute to their women’s resilience and hardship they went through?! I sympathize but … cry me a river. You don’t want to pay homage to women of the country that brought communism affliction to Europe? Fine. How about Polish women who suffered greatly from Nazis? Or Jewish? Not sexy enough, Mr. Lutens?

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

Yesterday, on May 9th, the Victory Day, I wore La Fille de Berlin. I did it as an act of a symbolic protest against current Russia’s actions against Ukraine and its attitude towards the rest of the World. I like this perfume. I like the disturbing color of the juice. I like the opening rose burst and the metallic undertone of the scent. I wish I hadn’t read Kafka’s or Victoria’s (EauMG) reviews: I usually do not care for an ad copy or perfumer’s commentary so if it weren’t for those reviews, I would have skipped them (and I promise to myself never to listen to those pseudo-philosophical mumblings again). But what I read about La Fille de Berlin is imprinted in my mind now and I just cannot bring myself to wearing it.

During the Great Patriotic War my mother’s mom was brought to Germany against her will to be a Fremdarbeiter. She died young after the war and her sister, who during the war served as a nurse in front-line duty unit, raised her. I knew her as my grandmother. My father’s mother, a medical school student at the time, helped in the hospital in Evacuation. So I’d rather stick to my Portrait of the Lady rose – it suits me better.

Al Farrow The Spine and Tooth of Santo Guerro 2012

War’s Unwomanly Face is a name of one of my favorite books written by Svetlana Alexievich. You can download it in PDF from here (author’s site):

A woman is the giver of life; she safeguards life, so “Woman” and “life” are synonyms.
But during the most terrible war of the 20th century a woman had to become a soldier. She not only rescued and bandaged the wounded; she also fired a sniper’s rifle, dropped bombs, blew up bridges, went reconnoitering, and captured identification prisoners. A woman killed. She killed the enemy who, with unprecedented cruelty, was attacking her land, her home, and her children.

 

Images: The Soviet War Memorial from here; the rest – my own.

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Entertaining Statistics: April 2014

April – warm and pleasant, with a couple of small rains – went by very fast and I haven’t even noticed how the time came for my monthly statistics post. It will be a short one.

I was so busy this past month that I didn’t even wear perfumes every day: I wore1 something on 26 occasions. I never was completely scentless though since I did some testing: I tested2 37 perfumes, 16 for the first time – and none of them impressed me much. It’s good I got all of those samples either at a store or swapping with other perfumista friends: I would have been much more upset had I paid for them.

Speaking of perfumista friends, I decided to do some statistics on the topic.

I regularly follow 45-55 blogs with 55+ writers (some of the blogs have multiple authors). Out of these 55+ bloggers I have/had interactions beyond comments and draws with 30 perfumistas and I met 6 of them in RL and enjoyed every one of this meetings.

Speaking of meetings, if you haven’t read it yet, check out Suzanne’s (Eiderdown Press) report about her recent trip to California and our meeting. Risking a faux modesty accusation, I still have to say that the way Suzanne describes me reflects more on her generous and outgoing nature than on my true self. I mean, I am great (and extremely modest, while we’re at it) – just not that great. And it was a very pleasant mini-vacation. Thank you, Suzanne (and Mark)!

SF Heart

How many perfumistas have you met?

 

1When I wear a perfume I apply it to at least three-four points and usually I plan to spend at least 4-8 hours with the same scent so I’m prepared to re-apply if the original application wears off.

2 For the testing I apply a perfume to one area on my arms easily available for the repetitive sniffing. But, most likely, I’m the only one who can smell it. I can test two, sometimes even more perfumes at the same time.

Image: my own

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Know-How: Perfumes for Wine Tasting

I’m lucky to live a car drive away from several great wine regions, which we enjoy visiting several times a year. Every time packing for the next trip I try to choose the right perfume(s) for the occasion.

Sonoma April 2014

So what perfume should you wear when going wine tasting? You shouldn’t.

That would have been one of the shortest posts I’ve ever published but I don’t plan stop there, I’ll elaborate.

If you are a normal regular person who can easily survive a day or two without wearing a perfume, you should definitely consider “going commando” (perfume-wise, of course) to wine tasting activities: wine aromas are very subtle and nuanced and can hardly compete with even the weakest perfume.

But if you’re a perfume addict like I am and staying off perfume completely feels like a cruel and unusual punishment, I’ll share with you a couple of ideas I came up with while thinking on that topic.

First of all, it’s important to choose the application spots strategically. I usually apply a couple of drops to the wrist of the non-dominant hand. This way I won’t inadvertently introduce the scent of my perfume to the wine I’m drinking but will be able to get a whiff of it any time I want. Based on the results for the question I posed in the post “Oh, TOES!! (for some people)” or Where to Apply Perfumes it will be a natural choice for at least 50% of my readers.

Rusty's Paw

Next – the choice of the perfume. While notes in perfumes are an abstract notion – they represent what a perfumer either actually put into it or wanted to recreate, wine notes are even more abstract. Since none of the ingredients are actually added to wines, all those “nuances of gooseberries”, “hint of apricots” and “touch of bell pepper aroma” are just a product of a complex interaction of soil minerals, grape varieties and barrel types.

The most common aromas I came across while reading wine descriptions were: grapefruit, cherry, apricot, cassis, raspberry, apple and blackberry. And it’s not even close to the extensive list of fruits, flowers and herbs that are used to describe wines! Also, as I learned from reading, oak barrels might add some vanilla, “baking spices” (very specific, right?) and coconut. Can I smell/taste them all? Maybe a hint of something. Sometimes. Maybe. Nevertheless, I tried to come up with perfumes that won’t clash with anything I might smell in wines.

Rusty and Flowering Tea

Tea notes – both black and green, including jasmine, should be fine: I don’t remember ever seeing any reference to tea when it came to wine. Aldehydes, amber, different types of woods (including agarwood), fig, saffron and leather should work as well. I’m not sure but I think some gourmands (those that are not vanilla heavy) would do. I’m not sure about flowers: I read about white flowers, violet, lavender and geranium as aromas associated with wines. A couple of months ago I would have said: “go with roses” but recently I came across wine from one of my favorite wineries Sunce – Aleatico Dry that has a distinct rose note in it. Later I read that “Aleatico wines are characterized by the aroma of roses.“

Wine Tasting at Sunce

Perfumes that I’ve successfully worn to wine tastings were L’Artisan Tea for Two, Serge Lutens Jeux de Peau, Jo Malone Earl Grey & Cucumber, Black Vetyver Café and Saffron, NVC Ashoka and Ormonde Jayne Woman.

Are you a wine drinker? What perfume(s) do you think go well with wines?

 

Images: my own

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Unfashionable me: Past, Present and Future

Last week Natalie of Another Perfume Blog dedicated to me one of her RSP (Runway, Sidewalk, Perfume) posts. She depicted me much better than I am in the real life – so you should go and read it if you haven’t done it yet! (UPD: APB is closed now)

Natalie’s post sent me sorting not only through my closet to streamlining my wardrobe but also through my memories.

I grew up in a fashion-challenged country: there were almost no fashion magazines, no advertising of any kind, runway TV shows or even sales catalogs. Still somehow everybody knew what was in fashion at any given time. And most women tried to follow that fashion. So the whole country would be wearing miniskirts, maxi skirts, banana pants, leg warmers, turtlenecks or wedges. Well, maybe not the whole country but inhabitants of big cities definitely would.

I don’t know how they (we) did it: light industry wasn’t the country’s strong suit (I haven’t decided if to consider that a pun); you couldn’t just go to a department store and buy nice clothes – you had to either come across new arrivals and stand in line for a couple of hours or “know somebody” (a sale assistant or a store manager). There was a third option – engaging in the hand-to-hand sale. The problem with the latter was that it was illegal and very expensive: a pair of fashionable boots, for example, could cost a monthly salary of a school teacher. Nevertheless, many women of all ages managed to get the desirable item into their wardrobe. Peculiarly you could unmistakably tell that year’s “it” from just walking the streets or riding a subway. Interestingly, when it came to fashion, looking like everybody else was considered a good thing.

Soviet Fashion in 60s

For the first several years after I moved to the U.S. I thought I was in heaven: not because of the abundance of nice clothes for almost any price range but because it seemed nobody cared for fashion. Most people around wore whatever they felt like wearing, in many cases just jeans and tops – comfortable clothes. Comfort has never been a priority for me (or my ex-countrymen) but what I actually enjoyed was the newly found freedom to wear what I wanted without the pressure to follow the trend or be like everybody.

Of course later I realized that fashion agnosticism that I, following my previous experience, projected on the whole country, was rather a reflection of the area where I lived: soccer moms and computer geeks are not much into hot couture or even just fashion trends.

I still do not care much for what is in or out of fashion. I like beautiful things and would wear something I like without thinking twice if others might think of it as dated. My taste and wardrobe changed a little over the years but I’m still more on the classic and conservative than modern and hip side. And, most likely, I’ll stay that way. If you want to know more, I touched upon my present attitude towards clothes (including a bizarre classification of things I wear) in the last year’s post For Every Occasion: Jul et Mad Amour de Palazzo.

As for the future, what I’m trying to change about my clothes is what I do already, more successfully, with perfumes: I think I will be happier with twice or even three times fewer items bought for the same money. I like variety but I don’t get as much joy from five $40 mainstream perfumes from a discount store as I would get from one even full price bottle of niche perfume of my choice. Two more issues I’m working on: overcoming my preconception that, borrowing from Mr. H. Ford, shoes might be in any color as long as they are black (an aftermath of having just one or two pairs at a time, which had to go with everything) and almost physical handicap preventing me from buying and wearing anything white, especially pants and skirts (I’m still not sure how people do that while using public transportation!).

I also decide to try my hand at making a fashion collage to pair with one of my favorite perfumes – Ormonde Jayne Ta’if (if you missed it, I told the story of this perfume in this year’s anniversary post Down the Rabbit Hole through the Looking-Glass).

Ormonde Jayne Ta'if Collage

Images: Soviet fashion, shoes and clutch for the collage – borrowed somewhere (can’t find owners), necklace, dress and perfume in collage – my own.