Summer Love Potions

Imagine sipping on a cocktail that tastes just as sexy as your favorite perfume smells. Combine your scent with your drink as an unforgettable aphrodisiac pair. The scent: Safran Troublant, by L'Artisan Parfumeur THE DRINK: 1 ½ oz Dry Gin, ¾ oz saffron and vanilla bean syrup, ½ oz fresh lemon juice, Rosé champagne, White rose petal.

Read on this link to see how Mindy Yang of MiN New York’s apothecary and cocktail architect, Yusef Austin, created delicious, drinkable counterparts to five seductive perfumes.

Vintage Advertising Champions: Let Them Talk (Coty Sophia)

The first "real" celebrity perfume is probably Sophia by Coty, issued in 1981 after the persona of Sophia Loren, Italian superstar and Hollywood legend to give many a run for their money. No Liz Taylor, you ask? Elizabeth Taylor's white Diamonds and Catherine Deneuve's erstwhile Deneuve perfume deal with Avon (1986) historically follow Sophia. I'm not counting the (semi-promotional) claims by Creed or the historical figures like Empress Josephine (for Guerlain's Eau Imperiale) or Sarah Bernard who had a penchant for cosmetics anyway; their commissions didn't come across as "product" till very recently,  in essence ~pun notwithstanding~ negating the very concept of "celebrity scent" (aka, jus and packaging produced to harness the power of a fan club into strengthening a person's "brand").

If you're curious about these little fragrance trivia you can check out an interesting timeline for the Celebrity Fragrances Craziness History on this link.  And if you're not, it's still sort of fascinating to find out that Loren apparently had such a big following in America that the giant Coty was interested in promoting a fragrance after her!

But my focus today is the print ad. I mean, wow! Doesn't it give you that nudge, nudge,wink wink to go out and try out Sophia because it's everything that prim little "old ladies" with sour lips (yeah, I know!) wouldn't approve of? Please note that by 1981 Loren was no spring chicken herself, proudly displaying her 47 years of age (All the more so since back then 40s was most definitely not the "new 30s", we've come a long way baby…). Far from the feminist issue it appears on first glance, this little fact gives nuance.

A mature woman that probably sports some serious eyeliner,   a good smattering of blush, some flesh-toned lipstick not to divert from her gorgeous almond eyes and a good ol' hair spray cloud (before "product" became standard code for hair gels & mousses). And one who pretty much has caught her man and kept him too; not for lack of admirers, it is most convincingly hinted at. That sex appeal of Sophia is always on the surface but done in a classy manner (ms.Loren never gave cause for press scandals). The wording of the ad text lets us feel that sex appeal is OK (transcribed in its humanity rather than its outré reputation, as further consolidated by the crying & laughing bit) and that it's maybe only small minds of a dowdy, spinsterly nature that condemn it as such. Therefore, non sensical, negligible… The grace of the cultural divide is there too. Exotic, European actresses (and ladies from abroad in general) have always had a greater leeway with American audiences. Maybe partaking in their fragrance could impart a bit of this non mi interessa to their suburbia existence.

A case study for sociology and for perfume advertising.

Granizado de Limon: Andalusia in a Glass

Throughout Granada and Seville in arid southern Spain there are tiny shops and street sellers peddling their icy cold wares to thirsty travelers. Among them the crisp granizado de limon is probably the most refreshing, the tart and juicy flavor trickling down the throat with the deep "aaaaah" of genuine relief. If you have a drop of vodka added the "aaah" factor increases (I'll save the limoncello recipe for another day to share with you). 

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These past few days have been so hot that the granizados de limon have been numerous around here, though not all alcoholic of course. In a moment of sharing I unearthed this home recipe for granizado: you'll need 1 kilo of fresh, heavy for their size lemons, 1 kilo of water, 1/2 kilo of sugar and some caramel color. You can see the rest on the video. The drink also goes great with ginger or mint leaves. 

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Les Pluriels Masculin and Feminin: fragrance reviews

This coming September star perfumer Francis Kurkdjian is launching a duet of scents, Feminin and Masculin in Les Pluriels, for his eponymous brand. I have sampled both and have lived to tell the tale, which is a good one, if not highly original (even within his private niche line). The story is just published on Fragrantica, more of which below, and you're welcome to comment either there or here.

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Basically Kurkdjian isn't traitorous to what he sets out to do, he considers perfumery more of an artistic craft than high art and believes in the concept of the fragrance wardrobe; his brand is meant to have something for every occasion (for the light "cologne" type for morning to the lush out animalics for intimate soirees) , so the newest diptych fits there comfortable. The bit that is perhaps more difficult to catch is the "eternal feminine" and "eternal masculine" he sets out to accomplish; tall order, especially because no one seems to agree on set parameters on those. After all, it's all a matter of semiotics, external signs for easy communication of a desired message and men and women are just themselves ~men and women. They're not defined by the jodhpurs they choose, the T-shirt and its bow neck or V-neck skimming breasts or not. They're not defined by the cut of their jeans (see "boyfriend's jeans"). They're not even defined by their added fragrance (read our Gender Bending Fragrances article if in doubt).

Feminin Pluriel has a very distinct progression like the passage of colors in the arc. The carrot impression of the iris hits you first, welcome solace from the overdone pink grapefruit /pink pepper or so much modern juice out there, setting the motion for the violet which follows on the skin very very soon. This note, a ubiquitous and perfect complement to both the rooty iris and the woody notes to follow, seems to meld into jasmine and a honeyed abstract orange blossom (reminiscent of its fore-bearers), comprising the main dish. This is further floralized by benzyl salicylate, a very popular ingredient boosting the "solar," luminous aspects of a scent. The cascading of the notes is so noticeable and so distinct that it's as if one ticks off the notes off a list or is watching a race course with the runners passing the baton to one another. Kurkdjian is no stranger to iris-violety things, given a sheer and non-powdery spin, lifting them from their traditional greyish mauve plumage befitting a solemn occasion via cheerful accents; witness his Iris Nobile for Acqua di Parma, surely the most optimistic and light-hearted iris floral out there.

The woody musky backdrop in Feminin Pluriel is engulfing a rose-citrus molecule (indeed, geraniol which has facets hinting at bergamot, rose, other citruses and carrot —the analogue of iris—so it all fits together, hand in glove) and feels as smooth and indefinable as the base in his rose-centered "nouveau chypres" (modern Rumeur, Guerlain Rose Barbare, Rose de Siwa and less so in the less rosy ones such as Narciso for Her and Elie Saab Le parfum). It fits his canon! Picture perfect pretty, in a (public side) Grace Kelly sort of style, maybe too pretty for its own good.

You can read my full review on this link.

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Regarding Masculin Pluriel, I feel a clear progression from smoky, lightly citrusy vetiver to lavender fougère and on to leathery-smelling patchouli. It's as if the man you wake up to (after a romp in the sheets) jumps up to wash and groom to go to the office and have his "power meetings" before heading out to a private club in the evenings to indulge in a little light S&M, yourself included or not. Schizophrenic? No, just multi-layered, shadow and light, like people are, in fact. Ironic too, because the cleanness of Masculin Pluriel is overreaching like a giant fig leaf hiding the family jewels. The coolness of lavender in Masculin clutches itself to the cooler aspects of patchouli (both sharing a minty facet) echoing one another. It's also a balanced bittersweet fragrance (not sweet like Le Male); one would be fooled to think it's only plush and lush and shaven to a glistening six-pack fit for a glossy magazine…

Although not a chest-thumping kind of a scent (nor an animalic-smelling Jicky full to the brim with civet), the spicy-metallic roughness of a more traditionally rugged mien in Masculin hints at a guy who doesn't shave said pectorals and dons the occasional leather trousers that have seen some wear and tear.

You can read my full review on this link.

Fragrance & Heat: Allies or Foes?

"Heat enhances the perception of fragrance," says Karyn Khoury, senior vice president for fragrance development for Estée Lauder Cos., who wears fragrance every day. Empirical data confirms this. Heated skin is skin which aids diffusion of smelly components and that includes both those which come naturally to us (apocrine gland products) and those which we put on ourselves on purpose. That might create a conundrum; does our body become "smelly" as in repulsive, or "fragrant" as in attractive? This double-edged sword needs some careful sharpening in order to cut to the chase in the best possible manner.

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Marketing lore has cleverly played upon our most subconscious fears pertaining to smell. The implied innuendo of the much mentioned argument against a signature scent ("after a while you literally won't be able to smell it") is "think how horrible that will be on those around you!" A notion which isn't totally undramatic or unrealistic for the hotter months of the year. Notice too how sly they are into leaving it be hinted, without actually blurting it out: Because if you won't be able to smell it, why buy their product again anyway? It is exactly the perception of our human smell as such an intimate, personal thing, that the fear that the way we project our Homo sapiens projectiles might be repulsive to those around us is founded. It just wouldn't be the same with a visual example, something that can be tested with our eyes (this is why, for instance, recommendations for heatproof makeup products do not fall on deaf ears, like with the excellent one by The Non Blonde); and the fragrance industry knows it. After all, visual clues, illusionists' ones excluded, are unquestionable: either something is blue or it's not. But what is "good" and what is "bad" in olfactory terms? The confines are broader. And thus the perfume sale is sealed, transforming a possible "want" into a definite "need"!

Fragrance wearing is not an opaque layer of smell that stays the same throughout the day, thus inflicting odor perception blockage like it would if you were sitting in a chemical factory working every day to the same effluvium. Apart from the natural evaporation that would naturally occur, heat notwithstanding, fragrances are constructed in a purposeful way so that different elements come to the fore with warmth, friction or simply rate of evaporation of the molecules in question. Usually we refer to this as the classic "fragrance pyramid" of top notes, middle notes and base notes. Although not all fragrances are built that way (indeed, most are not nowadays), there is still a structure even in linear scents that creates a less or more intense scent that you catch whiffs of throughout the day.

Think about it: How many times have you surprised yourself by smelling your fragrance amidst a daily chore and thinking "this smells good"? Clearly, your nose blunts a bit after the initial swoosh, intense enough hence the occasional sneeze when first putting it on, but the peaks of scent are there to remind you of its presence and this nicely varieties with the weather conditions: now you catch it, now you don't; but you're not totally oblivious unless you're performing brain surgery, in which case what the hell are you distracting yourself with sensory stimuli for?

Citruses in particular share olfactory molecules with sweat thus rendering the scents complimentary to a heated body; we just hope it's clean sweat we're talking about! Some of the traditional Eaux de Cologne fragrances have become a classic exactly for that reason.

Guerlain has this down pat with their many excellent colognes such as Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat, Eau Imperiale and Eau de Guerlain, as do Roger & Gallet (their classic Farina-recipe cologne as well as the modern variations on the theme) and 4711 with their uber-classic formula. Goutal's classic Eau d'Hadrien is another hesperidic case in point, as ell as their slightly "darker" (but still quite sunny) Eau de Sud.  If you want to go upscale, look no further than Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino or Chanel's Eau de Cologne. Eau de Rochas used to be a beautiful composition with a twist thanks to a smidgen of patchouli under the freshness. The Roudnitska-authored Eau Fraiche for Dior (from the mid-1950s) was a spectacular case of a fresh scent which stood on an otherwise rich base of moss and warmer notes.

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There are other elements however which can match our heated bodies and cancel out the dreaded "argh" factor of the clammy feeling. Lactones, molecules with a "milky" scent produced naturally in our bodies too as a result of protein decomposition, are also present in our apocrine products and in perfumery these ingredients are reflected in scents reminiscent of peach, apricot or coconut. Some fruity floral fragrances can be nice in the summer, as long as you don't carry it too far, becoming the Pina Colada yourself, instead of drinking it.
Things like monoi de Tahiti, tuberose, frangipani and ylang-ylang might be a siren song from creamy scents loving people. There's the traditional approach of scents mixing lush flowers and suntan lotion (Monyette, Bronze Goddess by Lauder, Guerlain Terracotta le Parfum, Kai etc.) and there's the quirky road-cut, like in Manoumalia by Les Nez or Amaranthine by Penhaligon's; these are both fragrances which literally "bloom" in the heat.

 Or there is the contrary approach; instead of complementing by mimicking, go for the opposite, cancel out by opposing. Powder-dry pitted against the muggy, sharp green instead of overripe apricot-yellow.

Chypre fragrances in general (a family built on the triptych of bergamot-labdanum-oakmoss) is a category which needn't be avoided in the summer. Their place of origin, reflected in their name (Chypre is French for Cyprus, the Mediterranean island) indicates that they were inspired by warm conditions and sunny skies. Thousands of women in Greece wear Aromatics Elixir by Clinique and the trail they leave behind is nothing short of beautiful and weather appropriate. I told you elsewhere that I personally go for Bandit EDP and Chanel No.19 EDT, so I shan't repeat myself.

Obviously you'd need to carefully monitor dosage and way of application, if you're to produce a similar effect, but, what I'm saying is, it can be done. Similarly you can pick chypre fragrances which focus on the drier, powdery smelling and more volatile elements instead of the heavier or animal-derived ones. Beautiful examples include the enigmatic Diorella, the ever crisp Cristalle by Chanel, the sylvan Coriandre by Jean Couturier, the dry as a bone Ma Griffe (Carven), the aristocratic Caleche by Hermes, the bitterish Eau de Campagne by Sisley which ushers the wind from the meadows …


Gentlemen who wear Chanel pour Monsieur, Neroli Sauvage by Creed and Guerlain's Vetiver do so for a similar reason to us ladies who don our more angular fragrances in the heat. The greener and cooly resinous scents (from vetiver, from galbanum, from angelica … ) naturally produce a refreshing feeling without resorting to the cliche of Calone (a synthetically produced note that smells of melon and defined the 1990s thanks to its use in "marine" scents).  Sometimes there's even an electric fizz and iodine rash into them; to wit, Goutal's Vetiver.

Some crisp leather perfumes can also be a great weapon in the arsenal of a discerning gentleman (ex. Gomma by Etro) as can be some airy incense fragrances (Kyoto by Comme des Garcons, Passage d'Enfer by L'Artisan Parfumeur, L'Eau Froide by Lutens). But perhaps the most dramatic shift in an incense scent happens to Etro's Messe de Minuit, an eau de cologne that really assumes its true character in the context of southerner, balmy nights, as it sheds its creepy, cool stony cathedral aspect to speak of hot tiles roasted in the sun and of resinous myrrh.

The game has plenty of choices: Eau de Monsieur by Annick Goutal, Encre Noire by Lalique, Malle's Angeliques sous la Pluie and Vetiver Extraordinaire. Several "fig" scents such as Philosykos, Premier Figuier (L'Artisan Parfumeur) or Figue Amere (Miller Harris) can be just as cooling as "sea notes" but with more intriguing points, revealed only on a hot day (like savory and fruity facets) keeping you glued to the plot even more than the average Agatha Christie paperback ever could.

The heat is on!


Please share your transformative heat-induced scent-shifting tales in the comments.