hortus conclusus

  I find it very interesting that Mary Magdalene is the patron saint of perfume. Her legend is so multifaceted, so sensory, and so deeply complex that I have to concede that she makes a perfect object of contemplation for the perfumer (and the lover of perfume, of course!). Her status (erroneously attributed to her in the sixth century by the ubiquitous  Legenda Aurea     or  The Golden Legend i n English) as a reformed prostitute landed her squarely in the world of the sensual, and her ritualistic, emotive actions subsequent to her conversion only enhanced this reputation. For example, Mary Magdalene was believed to have washed Jesus’ feet with her penitent tears and a whole box of spikenard; perfuming them, if you will, with the liquid of new-found holiness. The passage is so super-sensual I’ll include it here: Then took Mary a pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair; and the house was fille...

Why is the moon, symbol of femininity, also a symbol of inconstancy? I understand that both are subject to cyclic change, but why is that often seen as a negative thing in Western culture? Where is the notion of positive power, of wonder at the connectedness of humans and the sky and other parts of nature? This is something that bothers me off and on, and this allegorical image of Inconstancy brings many of these irritations bubbling up to the surface… There’s that damn crustacean again—I mentioned it once before in one of my lunatic posts --that horrific symbol of meaningless cycles of nature, that, according to traditional thought that I find quite compelling, has nothing to do with a good god.The depths-crawling lobster represents the nightmare of the unknown, of the subconscious, and also of the deep unexplored ocean; the things we know exist and don’t want to understand—all brought up by the moon’s powerful force.   Abraham Janssens “Inkonstanz, Allegorie der Unbeständ...

From a private correspondence between me, LBV, and my perfume friend Tamara. In this installment, Tamara struggles with her expectations and certain realities while searching for true love. I bet you all can relate. I certainly can. “I'm about to go to the dreaded mall this morning to go see if I like Laura Mercier's Minuit Enchanté cause from what I've read about it, it seems like it's right up my smelly alley ….” a few hours later: “But you know what I did? I went to try the L.M. Minuit Enchanté and what the hell! It was a screechy mish mash of notes; it was (and still is) painful cause I'm trying to give it the full on it deserves (poor  nasty thing) but bleeech ! I am so glad I didn't have to pay for that sample. But I do have it  now if you’re interested, ha! Sooo I take it back what I said before...no I don't . I'll ADD to what I was saying before. I don't just love decadence, I also love earthy and green. Whoooweee girl, I c...

I found this on Wikimedia Commons, and I think it is interesting that the fragrance of the lotus is the god’s primary weapon against demonic evil. I cite the comments on the image in full since I think they are very interesting: “This work is reproduced and described in Martin-Dubost, Paul (1997). Gaņeśa: The Enchanter of the Three Worlds . Mumba i: Project for Indian Cultural Studies. ISBN 81-900184-3-4 , p. 73, which says: "Attired in an orange dhoti, his body is enitirely red. On the three points of his tiny crown, budding lotuses have been fixed. Gaṇeśa holds in his two right hands the rosary and a cup filled with three modakas (a fourth substituted by the curving trunk is just about to be tasted). In his two left hands, Gaṇeśa holds a large lotus above and an axe below, with its handle leaning against his shoulder. In the Mudgalapurāṇa (VII, 70), in order to kill the demon of egotism (Mamāsura) who had attacked him, Gaṇeśa Vighnarāja throws his lotus at him. Unable to ...

Looking at these images of people from many different historical periods interacting with scent makes me think about the ways in which thinking about people of the past smelling things makes their lives seem somehow more real, but at the same time, it makes them seem more exotic.    For example if we were to smell the contents of that Egyptian pot, I’m sure we would feel at home, comforted by the recognizable smells of frankincense, lotus, or rose.  But also, the figures’ attitudes, their ritualistic poses, their very alien appearance, makes the content of that pot seem somehow untouchable, distant. A few Centuries Later…. we can imagine how that swag of citrus and laurel behind this religious tableau smells. We can even imagine the sweet musty smell of Mary Magdalene’s perfumed hair interacting with Jesus’ dirty, sweaty feet.  but we are also distanced by the exotic foreignness of the characters’ gestures, by the knowledge of this as a foundational myth, a...

I have been thinking about the fact that for most people, drying hair and clothing is one of the most intimate fragrance experiences they have in any given week. Looking at this painting by John Sloan, I can almost imagine all the different smells—the soapy clean musk of the laundry, the animalic smell of human hair, the perfume from the shampoo, the smell of sweat, the hot asphalt, the myriad city smells of exhaust, heat, sewer, food, etc. The act of drying one’s hair is such a special, human thing, such an affirmation of femininity… Consider the beautiful image of women throwing their hair up to dry it in Robert Frost’s “Birches”: When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many...

Bella indeed! I have received a bunch of samples from A Wing and a Prayer natural perfumes, and I was stuck by the simple beauty of this lovely herbal/citrus/floral. Verbena dominates—I get that sharp twinge of freshness you get when you brush or rub the leaves of the lemon verbena plant, married to a bright citrus topnote. Later on, Bella becomes less herbaceous and more floral, rounding out and opening up to a delicate rose-verbena fragrance that smells very fresh and true to life. I actually feel as if I were in a garden when I wear this. I also have to say, I have NEVER seen packaging as beautiful as this. I took pics and I want you all to see how much care and love these perfumers put into their work. Every element of the multi-part package was carefully, lovingly, and beautifully wrapped, and it came complete with ribbon and lovely, expensive note, hand-written, of course, because this niche company does things in style……   The main event, Tallulah B, was w...

I don’t know about you guys, but I sometimes get confused about the differences between all the different resins out there used in pefumery. So I compiled a gallery, so I could remember a little better…. MYRRH Somali man collecting myrrh. from “Beautiful Somalia”, by the Somalia Ministry of Information and National Guidance. found in Yemen, Somalia, Ethiopia 100g of Myrrh resin from the Dhofar region of Oman, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons FRANKINCENSE/OLIBANUM Frankincense trees taken by Eckhard Pecher Found in Oman, Yemen, and Somalia, Bag of frankincense at Dubai spice souk, taken by Liz Lawley . LABDANUM rockrose, or Ci stus ladanifer, courtesy Wikimedia Commons found in the Mediterranean, generally. image f rom incense wiki, uploaded by en:User:Sjschen , PERU BALSAM, ALSO KNOWN AS TOLU tolu is found in Central and South AMerica. from Franz Eugen Köhler, Köhler's Medizinal-Pflanzen . AMBER Wood resin, source of amber. Phot...

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

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.

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...