hortus conclusus

“I do have an amazing relationship with fragrance but it ain't monogamous; I cruise from here to there and get my thrills while I can, encounter a couple losers that don't satisfy my insatiable lust or calm my wandering heart, but all the while I'm searching for FB worthy love. It's the best…” “La Demande En Mariage” by Frédéric Soulacroix courtesy of artrenewal.org

For your viewing pleasure--or displeasure, as the case may be-- a gallery of beasties traditionally used to produce perfume civet cat, for civet. from Lloyd's Natural History: "A hand-book to the Carnivora. Part 1, Cats, civets, and mungoose", uploaded to Wiki Commons [1] by Richard Lydekker Sperm Whale, for ambergris. Sperm whale and Bottlenose whale by Archibald Thorburn Musk deer (and other musk-producers) for musk. William Daniell, “Musk Deer, And Birds Of Paradise”, courtesy of artrenewal.org Beaver, for castor. “North American Beaver (Castor canadensis)”, Painting by John James Audubon, 1854, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

  Happy Sunday all, and happy riddle day! Here, just flown in, an enigmatic flacon of perfume awaits your sharp brains and swift typing fingers…Who will be the first to guess which bottle wraps her real name in a veil of mystery? I’m on a fairy tale kick right now, so bear with me! A merry young maid lived in a dark wood, (with a hey and a ho and a hey nonny no…) She lived with dwarves; she made them food. (with a higglety-piggelty pomme-kin) She was so fair and bright and good, (With a ….etc.) she never suffered a petulant mood. (with a higglety-pigglety etc….) Only one weakness had she; ‘twas that she loved to eat sweet fruit low in fat. A pear and a cherry, an apricot too; blackcurrants, redcurrants, blueberries blue. These she loved even more than her life, and these were her downfall--caused the strife that rent their little woodland home, for when this maid was all alone-- the dwarves in the mines--  an old woman...

HI all, Today my husband and I leave for a two and a half week trip to Andalusia and Morocco! We will explore the land, go shopping (for perfume!!!!!!!!!!! and other things too, I guess) and relax before returning to the real world. I look forward to a break from teaching, and I am certain my chronically stressed and overworked husband will be thrilled to avoid thinking about all things financial and work-related for a week. As far as Hortus Conclusus is concerned, I have lined up several posts for your perusal—especially through the first week or so. I will not be around to respond to your comments (or visit your own wonderful blogs) until the very end of August, so please forgive what may appear to be a stony silence on my part. I look forward to reconnecting and seeing what you all had to say when I get back, though. I wish you all a wonderful month of August, filled with art, delight, beauty, family, friends, and scent! Nos Vemos Pronto….. Con Cariño, Bonne Vivante....

Elena of Perfume Shrine recently sent me a bottle of Andy Tauer’s latest creation, Carillon pour un ange! Of course, thrilled and so eager to smell the new lily of the valley composition—which is bound to be delightfully challenging and unique coming from Tauer--I tore open the dainty box and sprayed it on my waiting wrists! Lo and behold, an angel of the Lord came down and  glory shone around…..well, noooo, but I did gasp in surprise and wonder at the brilliance of this new fragrance. It is golden green—I can’t think of another way to de scribe it but in color. That famous bitter, almost oily, Tauer  citrus peel, an intense grassy  green, and a lush, wet, overwhelming Lily-of-the-valley. This is damp gorgeousness, and not an everyday perfume—it is too decadent for that. I find myself thi nking about gold filigree, baroque symphonies, in a lush contrapuntal swell of color, sound and memory. Breathtaking.   CREDITS: Stained glass windows in the Maus...

in the darker, more atavistic versions of Sleeping Beauty, the dormant castle is surrounded by an impenetrable wall of rose briars, with gigantic thorns that impale the hapless princes who try to push through to the interior in which the lovely princess lies in her enchanted coma. The princes’ bodies hang on that monstrous rose hedge, decomposing until they are naught but skeletons. This image haunted me when I was young, as it still does now, being one of the most disturbing of a a whole series of folktales which emphasize not only the rose’s beauty, but also its danger—for below the smooth silk-plush blossoms, like spikes and thorns, jagged leaves, and pain. This is one of the reasons I believe the rose makes such a perfect symbol for love—a thing of great beauty as well as undeniable pain. Dyptique’s l’ombre dans l’eau captures this dark green danger of the rose, I believe. It is not as menacing as a wall of gigantic malignant thorns, but it does explore the stems and leaves a...

I think this painting speaks for itself…. what do you all think? ''' Allegory of Sight and Smell''' by Jan Brueghel the Elder (1568–1625), currently in the Prado.

Excerpted from a private correspondence, in which the lady Tamara ridicules me for my snail’s-pace process of getting to know new fragrances: Why the hell are you so slow!? I got some more samples today and immediately put on 5 different scents. If it doesn't move me in the beginning , I kinda lose interest, on to the next! But sometimes it works out that I get intrigued and then pursue it further, like a slow start that can either lead to a B-lister movie or a full-on blockbuster. It depends. I just love to huff my arms and hands I guess. Or my shirt, my hair. I'm odd. Do you find yourself resisting that act as you go about your day?  I say go for it. What about you all, dear readers? Do you slowly acquaint yourselves with new samples or try to smell as many as possible as quickly as possible, thrilled at the new sensory input? CREDITS: Image from Trautenfels castle ( Styria ). Museum: Naive painting on a farmer´...

Hi all! I am working on the second installment of my medieval perfume story, trying to finish a draft of a dissertation chapter by Friday, teaching 3 hours a day, grading papers and finals for the super-intensive medical history class I have been TA-ing for the past three weeks, and frantically preparing for our upcoming anniversary voyage to Morocco and Spain (starting Saturday) so today’s post will be regrettably short. Luckily, you are all probably familiar with the lovely Eau d’Hadrien , so I needn’t go into great detail, only present my impressions of it. It really is lovely is Eau d’Hadrien ; its nose-tingling lemon zest—yes, a little like a lemon drop—reminds me of my trips to see concerts with my mother. She’d always buy me lemon drops at the orchestra hall,  although she was fundamentally opposed to ‘store-bought’ sweets. That was the only time I was allowed to ‘buy candy’, and so the flavor of those lemon drops always reminds me of our happy and frequent visits to the...

I’m trying something a little different for the Scents of the Mediterranean Blogfest—in honor of Ines, who, I know, loves fiction, I have written a little story about the perfume trade in the Mediterranean in the 13 th century… Let me know what you think. Thanks to Ines of “All I am-a Redhead” and Elena of “Perfume Shrine” for organizing this fun party! The sun—God’s candle, some call it—shines on a busy scene in the 13 th century northern Mediterranean port city. Ships pull close to shore, and a multiethnic population of sailors, merchants, and dogsbodies energetically heave large chests out of the wooden ships’ great bellies. You can almost imagine the laden ships breathing a sigh of relief as their month-long indigestion is suddenly, finally cured. “Finally, that sharp point in my belly on the left side has eased off” your imaginary sentient ship declares to the larger more gruff neighbor to the west in the bay. You laugh indulgently at your private flight of fancy, a moment o...

  It’s that time of the week again, and lo and behold, what do I hear with my own little ears, but a sphinxlike perfume bottle, galloping up to riddle you this and that. Who will be the great hero today, craking the code and naming the bottle who sings to you its siren song? A raging volcano covered with snow, a goddess in white pearls, row after row. A bright smile, a tender glance, a gauzy dress, a twirling dance across a brightly lit studio floor. This lady danced once—she will dance no more. A bright crown and a Barbizon cool, a castle and husband who made ladies drool, A hint of iris, a bit of leather and plenty of roses to remind you I’m clever like my idol—I never whip you too hard, but ever play my graceful winning card close to my magnificent chest. I share part of my name with one of the best bottles in the stable; you could say the same of the second half of my nostalgic name. Who am I? CREDITS: La Granja de san ildefonso, Sphy...

5 years ago today, I married my husband, at my family’s cabin in Red Lodge Montana. I know you may all be tired of hearing me ramble on this week about our anniversary, but the 5-year mark has me thinking a lot about that day. It was a very homemade wedding—family members, friends, and I made all the food; my mother, mother-in-law, and I sewed the wedding dress, and a large contingent of friends arrived at our cabin about a week early to help decorate the place.   I loaded up my old station wagon with flowers, and we spent the day before the wedding making bouquets and corsages, among sundry other things….I will never forget the way my car smelled as  I drove up into the mountains. In the evenings, the intrepid wedding party relaxed from their labors with a hookah and some drinks down by the creek (I therefore always associate the sweet smell of hookah tobacco with my wedding. Go figure) And of course, I was a bit preoccupied and nervous about the big ...

Olympic Orchids’ Luzonica is a sour/tropical/musty/dusty beast of a fruit salad. I find it to be larger-than-life, vibrant, and intense—tropical fruit (pineapple?) spliced with tuberose and orchidesque flowers. It is very unique indeed, and exciting! The musky vanilla base is VERY sexy on my skin, drying down to a salty, animalic floral which really does seem dangerous! There is also a slight bubblegum quality to it, especially in the opening, but it doesn’t push the scent into the Lolita category as far as I am concerned. This is just a surreal, tropical, sexy floral that thrills me and gives me wee palpitations of the heart! I am definitely a fan of new perfumer Ellen Covey’s compositions, no doubt about it! She clearly has a fabulous imagination, and a creative nose. I am having a blast reviewing and enjoying her portfolio. CREDITS: Rousseu’s “Tiger in a tropical Storm” courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am suffering from a glut of ‘ista’ suffixes. First, there was barista—annoyingly euro showoff, but ok…. Then there was the rise of the ‘fashionista’. Ok, what des that mean? Someone who likes fashion. Um hmmmm, like someone who is ‘fashionable’ or ‘fashion-conscious’ or trendy? DO we really need to call them ‘fashionistas’ if we have all those other ways of putting it? Something about the tone of that word just strikes me as wrong. Too Sex and the City , or something. Then of course, there we are, the ‘perfumistas,’ and maybe I’m biased, but this one makes a little more sense to me since there really wasn’t any kind of name for our group of weirdoes before—smell-obsessed? Nah. interested in perfume? Eew. perfume-lovers? noooooo! etc. SO I was willing to stomach the obnoxiously ubiquitous neologism for the time being, since it worked as a descriptive noun for our folk. But then, ‘recessionista’ happened… and a whole slew of similar new splic...

I am a very lucky girl, I remind myself almost every day, especially when the annoyances of slogging though a busy graduate life seem especially irritating. I have a family who loves me and I love them. I have many interesting and intelligent friend s, who enrich my life daily. I have an interesting job, and I work on something that inspires me. I get paid to go to school and get a doctorate. I have many hobbies that keep me from getting bored. And I have a wonderful husband who loves me and spoils me rotten. I have nothing to complain ab out. Our 5 year wedding anniversary is on Friday, and as my husband came home from a three week business trip yesterday, we found ourselves exchanging gifts early, impatient to see the smiles of delight on each others’ faces. Granted, my present to him was not hideable—where, I ask you, does one hide a leather armchair in a small condominium? My husband’s presents to me were very sweet and thoughtful. First, a pair of Montana sapphire stud earr...