hortus conclusus

Little Stars is another gorgeous orchid sc ent from this enormously talented perfumer, brand new on the scene. Ellen mentions on her blog that the orchid on which she bases this fragrance is night-blooming—that always a descriptor that intrigues us sensually minded perfume-folk. This one is a heavy, well-made dark spicy citrus floral, with a clove,citrus, and deep woods composition evocative of the most humid, tropical nights. The perfumer's notes suggest this is meant to evoke the nighttime in a steamy jungle, and I can see that. I love the spicy green woodiness of this one—it truly does smell ultra-tropical, and also almost holographically orchid-like. Very impressive composition indeed, with a really natural sense of balance and proportion. The synthetic oud and tea notes blend in seamlessly, opening up the scent experience alongside a delicious sour citrus--the whole top part of the perfume’s composition tends towards a certain soapy tanginess that I think is definitely uni...

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...

Greetings once again, and it’s time for another perfume riddle. The gods have decreed it. Prepare yourselves, and make way for yon riddling perfume bottle, come from on high to challenge your wits. Which heroic reader will throw down the gauntlet and guess, at her peril? what I am I will not tell, for if you do not know me well, you cannot guess, and that is good for I’m obscure. I’m partly food, brilliant, luscious and so sweet, the red topping on an ice cream treat. Then tobacco, smokey, round, and almond, bitter and profound. My name is made of classical references, Latin, Greek, whatever your preference is. I struggle and emerge victorious, Name my name; I am notorious.   Since I am away on vacation, I cannot tell you if you’re right, so I embedded the house name in the labels below CREDITS: Darius’s sphynx, currently in the Louvre. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

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...

All the samples I ever buy are usually 1.5 ml to 2.5 ml. All because I need to be able to spray them to get a real sense of what it is, that I simply cannot get from merely dabbing. It's a divine but horribly expensive habit! Especially if I end up not liking them. (sigh............) But can I tell you about what I LOVE (yes I'm shouting in caps) I fell in desperate love with two comfort beauties this weekend, Sarah. And really I blame this wretched weather we've been having. Because all I want is for summer to kiss my face and warm my skin, but I'm inside sniffing and bemoaning the rain. And in the beginning of my perfumista journey I never liked "sweet" or comforting smells. But as it happened almost 7 yrs. ago I had my youngest daughter Olivia and lo and behold I could handle them--I craved them. She made me sweet. Aww. Ha! And that's saying something, having four daughters! I need strength in my scents but also, as it turns out, comfort. ...

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...

“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...