hortus conclusus

AFTER some deliberation, I have changed the name of this blog from “Life As Art” to “hortus conclusus,” which I feel better represents the nature of this site. “Life as art” seemed a little too general, although I like the idea behind it, that aesthetics should be an integral part of one’s life.  I chose hortus conclusus as the new title because it draws upon multiple layers of history art and symbolism. Hortus conclusus is Latin for ‘enclosed garden,’ and was first writ ten down in the Vulgate translation of the Bible, in that great erotic—and fragrant—poem, the Song of Songs : “ Hortus conclusus soror mea, sponsa, hortus conclusus, fons signatus”: An enclosed garden is my sister, my wife, a sealed fountain. In the Middle Ages, my area of research, the hortus conclusus was a popular kind of garden cultivated by many, as well as a powerful symbol of the erotic potential of a virginal woman. I like to think of perfume as a kind of ‘encl osed garden,’ the glass bottle a wall surroun...

The Hawaiian volcano goddess Pele goes to sleep to dream of the perfect lover, and in her nine-day slumber in a little cottage thatched with leaves in a room redolent with the scent of the hana, she dreams of her appearance to her chosen consort: “Pele's spirit now put on the body of strong healthful youth. Nor was there any blemish in her beauty and symmetry from head to foot. She was anointed with all the fragrant oils of Puna. Her dress was the splendid garland of the red lehua flower and maile leaf and the fern from the dwelling-places of the gods. The tender vines of the deep woods veiled this queen of the crater. In glorious young womanhood she went to the halau. The dark body of a great mist enveloped her.” ( Pele’s Long Sleep ) What a gorgeous image of power, danger, beauty, and fragrance! Although many people associate the beautiful fragrances of Hawai’i with carefree times and vacations, I often think of the mysterious legendar...

IN honor of spring, I have composed a floral cocktail that captures the fragrance of flowers and allows you to eat them. Of course, the idea of drinking flowers is nothing new. After all, perfumers must add that nasty compound to keep people from drinking their creations—and apparently this is still a problem in Russia , believe it or not! If you think about it though, we drink flowers ore often that we think about it. Jasmine tea, chamomile and hibiscus drinks are all made of flowers, as is one of my very favorite teas, China Rose . I named my cocktail, rather obviously, Floralia, but you can call it whatever you like. It is very feminine and fresh, and I really like it. First, zest a teaspoon’s worth of lemon peel and put it in a teapot with 1 tablespoon jasmine tea, one tablespoon chamomile tea, and rose petals, if you have them. Pour approximately two cups boiling water in the pot and let it steep until at least lukewarm. In a co cktail shaker, squeeze and then drop in one large ...

I know this is old news for a lot of you, but I need to get my two cents in on everything, so I’m going to tell you what I, la Bonne Vivante, think of Annick Goutal’s Mandragore . First of all, this is an awesome name, conjuring images of village wise women pounding down mandrake roots in mortars and pestles, aphrodisiac concoctions containing dangerous ingredients like belladonna, hensbane, and mandrake,  and metempsychosis, the movement of a soul from one entity to another. And, of course, now the Harry Potter books, where Rowling uses the traditional folklore of the screaming root to great effect. My favorite literary reference to mandrake next to its use in the Old Testament to imply sexual intercourse (see the Song of Songs and Genesis 30 ) is the Great John Donne’s poem of impossibilities: Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil’s foot; Teach me to hear mermaids singing, Or to keep off ...

Last Tuesday I picked up some gorgeous daffodils which were just about to open at my thesis advisor’s house. They opened over the next few days and filled the room with that ethereal jonquil smell—green, powdery, and very light. They looked positively luminous on our dining table, and I enjoyed every second of their presence in my home. Now, 6 days later, they look like this. I guess because I’m a literary type, I read this as a symbol, a reminder of the brevity of all beauty in our lives, and as a reminder to enjoy what we have while we have it. Fragrance functions as just such a reminder, a memento mori , for me every day. In its ever so brief lifespan, a fragrance is born, flowers, and decays , over a length of time comparable to the lifespan of a mayfly. Nothing Gold can Stay, by Robert Frost: Nature's first green is gold Her hardest hue to hold.  Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to gri...

The Goddess Flora has been giving me many little presents the past few days. Today, I stepped out on my back porch and discovered the most delicate little wild violets. Time to make candied violets, one of my spring rituals. Violets remind me of my beloved grandmother, who I still miss daily. Her backyard cobbled courtyard was always full of little wild violets which sprung up in the mortar between the slate stones. It drove her nuts to have them th ere, and she often paid me to hang out and weed the stones for her when I was growing up, but I know she also loved them. I love having candied flowers on hand for impromptu parties when I need to create a beautiful cocktail or for decorating cakes. First, I found the most gorgeous, perfect specimens available, which is sometimes difficult, as you can see; they often hide in the grass. Then I harvest them and wash them very  carefully to avoid bruising their tender petals. On the left you can see part of my lovely harvest. After they h...

Tonight we are going to take a gorgeous trip through the land of vanilla. First stop: Guerlain’s Shalima r , the qu een of Orientals, the vanillic fantasy goddess. Second stop: vanilla pudding, warm. Third stop: your most comfortable, yet beautiful clothes. Fourth stop: a down comforter, and someone to cuddle with. Maybe you put on a favorite movie, maybe you just enjoy one another’s company, maybe you play a lush, gorgeous album—I suggest Caribou’s Andorra or Iron and Wine’s The Shepherd’s Dog --  and listen to it together. But as you are eating the pudding, think about the sweetness of the sugar, and the way it interacts with the cream, and the smoky softness of the vanilla. Smell the Shalimar and keep the scent in your nose and mind as you sample the pudding. Note how well the two play together.Hug the blanket closer around you and feel the fabric and the plushness caress your skin. hug your partner. Think about whether you these experiences are in accord with the vanilla puddi...

Like the James Hilton novel that began the craze for the fantasy of the lost utopian fairyland in the Himalayas, this is going to be an exercise in orientalism. After all, I have never been to Yunnan province, so I can only project my own desires and fantasies onto that place. But Orientalism, like every decadence, can be wonderful in moderation, so I invite you to come with me on a trip to Shangri-La. Since Yunnan is the original home of Camellia Sinensis , you must brew yourself some Pu-erh tea. This is a dark, earthy, yet somehow floral tea, ad it tastes exotic and unique. Sip it l ingeringly, and enjoy it while wearing Jean-Claude Ellena’s masterpiece, Hermessence Osmanthe Yunnan , which I consider to be his very best tea scent, minimalism done exactly right. Note how well the scent of the tea and the imagined floral tea interact with one another.   I also recommend watching the chapter of the BBC’s Wild China on Yunnan Province. It is absolutely gorgeous, a...

To wash that t errible Givenchy (Ange ou Demon le Secret) from my nose, I scrubbed myself down, had some coffee, took a deep breath, then applied one of my favorite roses, the lovely, understated Les Parfums de Rosine Ecume de rose , a salty, fresh rose with a certain herbaceous quality to it. Something about the way this interacts with my skin creates that tangy salty smell--or is it a feeling-- that you get when you smell the skin of somebody who has been exercising outsid e in the cold. it is briny, a bit metallic, tickles the nose ever so slightly, and is very real, and it makes all sorts of memories come flooding in. The vetiver (one of my favorite notes) at the base gives this a woody, rooty, musky slant, and really does summon images of a rose bush growing on some rock overlooking some wild oceanscape. Really quite lovely. In some ways this reminds me of a beautiful day I spent with my sister last year. She lives near Seattle, and the day before I had to leave we went to a...

My husband is a lot more meticulous than I am. Where I am slovenly and haphazard, he is careful and graceful. I especially admire the way he makes his daily routines into aesthetic rituals that have a real depth and beauty to them. For example, while I shower in a dark closet of a bathroom, he bathes in a foggy, luminous steam in the other bathroom, which has a window in the shower area. He uses Guerlain’s Vetiver body wash to wash his body—this makes that steam smell absolutely luscious—and a local company’s equally marvelous Mahogany soap for his face. He washes his hair with lavender shampoo, and sometimes conditions with rosemary mint. He says that on of his favorite things about the process is “smelling all the different stuff as I put it on.” Once he feels sufficiently steamed up, he wraps his lithe little body in a white towel, and sets to work on his dark, bristly beard. He lathers up some Crabtree & Evelyn Sandalwood Aromatic Shave Cream and paints it on his face with...

I am a huge fan of Alexander McCall Smith's series of books about the Botswanan lady detective Precious  Ramotswe, all of which are truly a joy to read. McCall Smith's deceptively simple prose somehow succeeds in bringing me on a journey to a place--surely partly imaginary--where life is simple and so is the ethical code, which is based on a lovely notion of traditional values. Precious Ramotswe often finds herself in difficult quandaries, but she always chooses the path that shows care and respect for others while maintaining her own dignity. That may sound boring or too moralistic, but believe me when I say that these books are refreshing, sincere, and completely uncynical. So to inaugurate my new series of Synaesthetic adventures--blueprints for little themed adventures for all your senses--I give you my plan for a very nice afternoon that challenges all your senses. Put the pot on, and brew some nice Rooibos tea . I like it with milk and a tiny bit of sugar, but you...