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Notes on Notes: Nuts
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Notes on Notes: Nuts

Happy fall! Portia Turbo of Australian Perfume Junkies and I both forgot to post our “Notes on Notes” on the usual first Monday of the month, which was LAST Monday, October 2 (it crept up on us), so we’re a week off. This month’s Note for discussion is nuts. TBH, I suggested this because I wanted to write about the newest addition to my collection, this year’s Un Jardin à Cythère, which my lovely spouse brought me from his trip to London. It features a pistachio note.

Fragrance bottle; Hermès' Un Jardin à Cythère.
Un Jardin à Cythère, by Hermès; image from Hermes.com.

As it happens, apparently pistachio is very au courant in 2023, according to Harper’s Bazaar: “Why All the Cool Kids Smell Like Pistachio Right Now.” Writer Lindy Segal credits the trend to the ongoing fascination with gourmand fragrances, and a post-pandemic desire for fun. And it’s true that pistachios lend themselves to sweet and savory fun, from celadon green ice cream and the toothaching sweetness of baklava, to dishes of salted cocktails nuts and the messy joy of shelling roast pistachios out of a bag.

It turns out that although pistachio is having a moment, and it’s not a commonly used note, it has been featured in other fragrances that have been popular for a while, such as Tom Ford’s Soleil Blanc, Guerlain’s Une Petite Robe Noire Eau Fraiche, and even another of the Jardin fragrances, Un Jardin en Méditerranée. To my surprise, Fragrantica reminded me that it is a note in SJP’s Stash, which I had forgotten. I love Stash, and it couldn’t be more different from the Jardin fragrances, which I also love.

Of course, other nutty notes have been used in perfume, but even looking at the whole category, they’re not terribly common, except for hazelnut. Chestnut, walnut, even almond, aren’t nearly as prevalent as, say, various woody notes. Hazelnut appears as a note in several fragrances I own: Jo Malone’s English Oak and Hazelnut and Ginger Biscuit, Jean Patou’s Que Sais-Je?, Penhaligon’s Elisabethan Rose (2018); and others I know but don’t have: Zoologist’s Chipmunk, Jo Malone’s Oat and Cornflower, L’Artisan’s Mechant Loup, Guerlain’s Habit Rouge, among others. In all of these, hazelnut adds a certain sweetness without sugar, woodiness without weight.

Back to pistachio! I’m fascinated by how differently it is used in the Jardin fragrances. They were, of course, created by two different Hermès perfumers: Jean-Claude Ellena created Méditerrannée in 2003, and Christine Nagel, his successor, launched Cythère twenty years later. In UJeM, pistachio is a bit player, lending some depth to the basenotes, but subordinate to the dominant fig note. (By the way, fig and pistachio are a time-honored combination in various recipes, often partnered with honey and a soft, mild cheese like ricotta or mascarpone – yum!). UJeM is based on an actual garden in Tunis, and it includes floral notes such as orange blossom and white oleander, although the most prominent notes are fig leaf, cypress, cedar, and juniper, which form the base notes together with a touch of pistachio and musk.

Bottle of Hermès fragrance Un Jardin en Mediterranee
Hermès’ Un Jardin en Méditerranée; image by Hermes.com.

In UJaC, Mme. Nagel puts pistachio at the very heart of the fragrance, pairing it beautifully with an accord of olive wood. In comments about her latest Jardin creation, she has said that her pistachio accord is based on her memory of the fresh pistachios she enjoyed on trips to the Greek isle of Kythira, twenty years apart.

Her composition is very clever: this is a garden without flowers. The citrus notes of the opening recall the island’s citrus groves, the pistachio and olive notes evoke the harvests of those important products, and an accord of dry grass captures the dry, sunny climate of Kythira. This is a truly unisex fragrance, despite Kythira’s fame as the legendary birthplace of Aphrodite, who rose from the sea foam off its rocky shores.

Painting of Aphrodite rising from sea, by Botticelli
Birth of Venus/Aphrodite, by Botticelli; image from the Uffizi Gallery.

As it dries down, UJaC retains the nutty sweetness of pistachio, and one understands better why nuts like pistachios, hazelnuts, and almonds lend themselves so well to sweet desserts and combine beautifully with various fruits. Unlike peanuts, which combine with chocolate well because of the contrast between the two, these sweeter nuts harmonize with sweeter ingredients, the whole becoming greater than the sum of its parts. Think Nutella (hazelnut and chocolate), marzipan (almond and honey), and pistachio gelato (pistachios with milk and sugar).

Pistachio ice cream happens to be my husband’s favorite flavor, and although we don’t usually keep it in the house (both watching our girlish figures, lol), it is a regular though infrequent visitor. Usually the commercial ice cream is made with artificial flavoring, but we do have a local Italian gelato store that has been here for decades, and they make pistachio gelato from scratch, so now I have a yen to go try some! I know I can count on my dear spouse to come along.

The base of UJaC is supported by an accord of olive wood; if you’ve ever visited an olive wood craft workshop, you know that it does indeed have its own distinctive and pleasing aroma. I love carved olive wood and have well-used kitchen implements made from it, the oldest being salad servers we bought on our honeymoon in Provence. My favorite olive wood carving, though, is a little statuette of Madonna and Child, the Virgin Mary being another incarnation of the divine feminine. The wood is as smooth as satin, the grain beautifully suggesting the folds of fabric in her robe.

I’m very happy to have added Un Jardin à Cythère to my collection. It hasn’t displaced Un Jardin Sur le Nil or Un Jardin Après la Mousson as top favorites, but it isn’t far behind. Have you tried it yet? What did you think? And make sure to hop over to Australian Perfume Junkies to get Portia’s Notes on nuts!

“The Rooster House” by Victoria Belim
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“The Rooster House” by Victoria Belim

I know many of you read the wonderful fragrance blog “Bois de Jasmin” and follow its author, Victoria Belim. She has written a memoir called “The Rooster House“, about her quest to reconnect with her Ukrainian heritage and solve a longstanding family mystery. It has had very positive reviews and is on my list to read now that I’ve retired!

Have any of you read it yet?

Book cover of The Rooster House, by Victoria Belim; image from nytimes.com.
The Rooster House, by Victoria Belim; image from nytimes.com.
Counterpoint: Cabochard
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Counterpoint: Cabochard

Cabochard may be the best known fragrance issued by the house of Grès, at least to this generation of perfumistas. It is not the only one, but it was the first and it is one of only a few that came out while the real Madame Grès still owned the perfume line, which she sold in 1982. (Others I own are Cabaret and Cabotine). It was created in 1959 by legendary perfumer Bernard Chant, who also created strong fragrances like Aromatics Elixir, Azurée, Aramis, and the original Halston, now called Halston Classic. It is a classic leather chypre, originally with a full symphony of notes and accords, which Fragrantica lists as: aldehydes, sage, spices, tarragon, asafoetida, lemon and fruity notes; middle notes of geranium, orris root, rose, jasmine and ylang-ylang; base notes of leather, oakmoss, tobacco, vetiver, patchouli, sandalwood, musk, amber, and coconut.

Madame Grès was a legendary designer of haute couture, based mostly in Paris and dressing its elite from the 1930s into the 1980s. Her creations are truly unique – you look at one of her garments and you know it’s by her. They are in many collections, including the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which describes her work thus:

“Madame Alix Grès’ career spanned five decades and throughout them all she excelled in her ability to manipulate fabric and use its innate characteristics to enhance her designs. She executed flowing body-skimming forms inspired by ancient Greek dress; minimalist, sculptural forms and voluminous, dramatic shapes.”

I chose Cabochard as this month’s “Counterpoint” fragrance to write about with Portia (of the blog Australian Perfume Junkies) because I saw a rare exhibit of Madame Grès dresses and other outfits a few weeks ago. Most of the items displayed were from the private collection of the late Azzedine Alaïa, another genius of garment construction who studied Madame Grès and her techniques. This post will be liberally sprinkled with photos I took! There were so many gorgeous dresses that it was hard to choose.

Cabochard and Madame Gres

Apparently the fragrance took inspiration from a trip to India that Madame Grès took in the late 1950s to look into the reorganization of traditional Indian textile manufacture, a project of the Ford Foundation and others. It was named Cabochard because of her well-known stubbornness and determination, on full display during the Nazi occupation of Paris in the 1940s, when she refused to serve German clients (who were mostly wives of Nazi officers). Another example is that when she was ordered to stop using so much fabric, at first she defied the order, and they shut down her atelier, then she complied but her next collection was all in the colors of the French flag: red, white, and blue.

  1. How did you first encounter Cabochard and what was your first impression?

Portia: I cannot remember the first time I smelled Cabochard. Maybe it was on an Aunt or one of Mum’s friends, or one of my friend’s Mums. It could have been a sniff session in a department store in the time that I loved perfume but wasn’t internet connected to you all or maybe I read about it in the initial stages of discovering the scent blogosphere. I do remember that I bought a tall slender bottle with a black lid, maybe even from overseas way back in the time of postal ability. That bottle was given to a friend when they fell madly in love. Then I scored an extrait that had my mind whirling (still does, though it’s a second bottle now) and lastly, when the bottle was redesigned and the fragrance given a spruce for modern day I grabbed a tester for next to nothing. Perfumer Bernard Chant created Cabochard in 1959, Aramis in 1966 and Aromatics Elixir in 1971. A trilogy or family of fragrance, all similar but riffing different elements.

Dresses by Madame Gres

Old Herbaceous: I got a heavily discounted bottle of Cabochard eau de toilette after reading Luca Turin’s hilarious but scathing review in “Perfumes: The A-Z Guide”, in which he famously called this reformulation “Cabochard chewed down to a frazzle by accountant moths” and compared it to a time-ravaged Peter O’Toole whom no one recognized any more. I had previously bought another Grès fragrance, Cabaret (which came out long after she had died), and liked it very much, so I thought I would see what Cabochard was like and whether it deserved such criticism. Of course, I don’t have the original vintage for a comparison, but I was curious anyway. And I also found the name charming: stubborn, like a donkey, but also resolute and determined.

Cabochard has been reformulated (as have so many classics), and for a long time, what was available was the version I first bought, in a tall, slender bottle with a bas-relief bow on front. However, in 2019, the current owners of the brand reissued Cabochard in eau de toilette and eau de parfum, in shorter bottles with real black ribbons on the neck. These improve on their immediate predecessor and have been well-received, so I own both!

My initial impression was that Cabochard reminded me of Chanel No. 19, which startled me until I re-read the list of notes and saw that the 2019 eau de parfum has a strong dose of galbanum as one of its top notes. I like the opening very much, no surprise! When I asked my 21 year-old son to tell me what he thought, he sniffed my wrist and said “I can’t say I LIKE it, but I wouldn’t say I dislike it either. It’s really different!” How is that for a diplomatic answer?

  • How would you describe the development of Cabochard?

Old Herbaceous: I’m wearing the 2019 eau de parfum, which has a different list of notes from the original, according to Fragrantica: top notes of aldehydes, galbanum, and sage; heart notes of ylang-ylang, rose, and jasmine; base notes of oakmoss, leather, patchouli, and sandalwood. Right away, the aldehydes and galbanum hit the nose; the aldehydes drift away, but the galbanum remains a leading player. I barely smell any of the floral notes at all, then the base notes arrive — and wow, do they persist! Very true to the fragrance’s name, lol. Of those, the one I smell the least is sandalwood, which is a shame as that is clearly a reference to India. The oakmoss note is potent, and in 2019, it might still have had some real oakmoss atranol, though it was heavily restricted by then, and atranol was banned entirely in Europe in 2021. I’m guessing that by 2019, Parfums Grès was already using a modern substitute, both for cost reasons and because the ban was on the horizon.

The 2019 eau de toilette also has its own slightly different list of notes, which Fragrantica lists as: top notes of aldehydes, bergamot, and sage; heart notes of ylang-ylang, rose, and jasmine; base notes of oakmoss, leather, patchouli, and sandalwood. This is actually a more classic chypre structure, with bergamot among its top notes which the eau de parfum lacks.

Neil Chapman, author of The Black Narcissus blog, wrote about Cabochard in his marvelous book “Perfume: In Search of Your Signature Scent”, and described it as “a dark and brooding scent of greys, purples, and blacks that hovers, tantalizingly, above the skin” (I think he was describing the vintage extrait). To my nose, because of the galbanum and base notes, the eau de parfum is indeed “dark and brooding” but varying shades of dark green and brown.

Portia: Wearing vintage extrait and modern EdT. The opening fruity sparkle is herbaceous, aromatic and dense. Imagine being in the storeroom of an Indian bazaar, the spark and buzz of faulty electrics, fruit and veg in waxy cardboard boxes, sizzling spices, bitter herbs, and the scent of dozens of boxes of sandalwood soap. Cabochard is as full on as you can imagine. A heavy, hectic, psychedelic scent that manages to be all this and warmly classy too. That is quite a feat to keep something so big from flying out of control. It’s definitely a hark back to perfume of yesteryear but much of today’s product could learn a thing or ten from one sniff of Cabochard.

Fragrance bottles of Cabochard eau de toilette and parfum
Cabochard eau de toilette (2019) and parfum; image by Portia Turbo.

Through the heart flowers are a bouquet and I can’t pick any of them out, not really pick them out, though I get flashes of ideas of flowers. It doesn’t matter anyway because already the base notes are coming through: sandalwood, tobacco, patchouli, leather and oakmoss are the ones I can detect but what I really smell is Cabochard. It’s the base of Cabochard that IS Cabochard to me. That long trail of golden darkness that floats mysteriously around me for hours and hours.

  • Do you or will you wear Cabochard regularly? For what occasions or seasons?

Portia: It’s funny. I just put my Cabochard EdT in its box to give it a rest. I keep the extrait out for sneaky swipes. Cabochard is an excellent foil against the downward spiral of depression. Something so thick, rich, tapestried and enigmatic can derail the slide brilliantly if I catch it early enough. So yes, Cabochard gets wear.

It’s also a perfect glamour scent for nights working a drag. Cabochard’s fine line between masculine and feminine in scent is a perfect match.

Old Herbaceous: I don’t wear it often, and when I do, I realize that I really have to be in the mood for Cabochard. To me, it is a fragrance best suited to fall and winter, when it appeals to me most; to my nose, it’s a bit much in the hot, humid weather we get here in the summer.

  • Who should/could wear Cabochard?

Old Herbaceous: I find Cabochard totally unisex – wearable by men or women without startling anyone with traditional expectations. Not surprising, given that its original creator Bernard Chant also came up with Aramis, a legendary masculine fragrance that is still a top seller, and strong feminine fragrances like Aromatics Elixir and Azurée (also Beautiful, more floral than many of his other creations).

Portia: Cabochard is truly unisex. Anyone with the chutzpah to wear such an iconic fragrance should definitely get some on. It’s a big perfume but a single spritz could even be low key enough for the workplace. Should you need armour, to make an entrance, to become an object of power then a couple of sprays more. 10 sprays should gas those nearby, dry clean your curtains and make people give you a wide berth. I’m wearing 10 sprays right now, home alone and in my perfume room/office. Bloody heaven!

Did I mention that Cabochard can be had for very little money on the discount sites? So, affordable glamour. YAY!

Have you tried Cabochard, vintage or modern? Which version, and what do you think?

Notes on Notes: Rose
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Notes on Notes: Rose

Ah, roses. As you may imagine (and regulars here know), with a pen name like Old Herbaceous, it is likely that I love roses. And I do – especially the highly fragrant English Roses hybridized by the late David Austin. As of last count, I am growing 14 of them, mostly in large pots. I’ve even visited the amazing display by David Austin Roses at the RHS Chelsea Flower Show! One rewarding aspect of seeing many varieties together in real life is that one can appreciate the different scents they emanate, as well as their different shapes and colors. Below are some photos from my terrace:

The fragrance of roses is actually a very complex ballet of many different molecules. As the American Rose Society notes, different varieties can smell quite different from each other, though recognizably and undeniably “rose”. According to ARS and the website Flower Power, “Rose scents fall into seven distinct categories. They are: rose (or damask), nasturtium, orris (which is similar to violets), violets, apple, clove and lemon (the fruit, not the blossoms). There are also twenty-six other less common aromas that can be discerned. Among them are: honeysuckle, moss, hyacinth, honey, wine, marigold, peppers, parsley, and even fruity raspberry.” These different nuances present an irresistible opportunity to perfumers: they can create endless variations by emphasizing one facet or another of a rose accord’s complicated structure. The Perfume Society says that rose is a note in at least 75% of traditionally feminine fragrances and at least 10% of traditionally masculine fragrances. While many perfumistas dislike rose notes in perfume, it may be that they haven’t found the right rose yet, since there are so many, varying widely from the classic rose-scented soap your older relatives may have used. In fact, one of my favorite perfume houses focuses almost entirely on rose-centered fragrances: Les Parfums de Rosine, founded by the late Marie-Helène Rogeon.

Clair Matin, Les Parfums de Rosine

I’ve written about many of the rose fragrances I own in past years’ “Roses de Mai Marathon”, but this month I have some new ones with which to illustrate “rose” as a note in fragrance. The newest in my collection is The Coveted Duchess Rose, from Penhaligon’s “Portraits” collection and created by perfumer Christophe Raynaud. It is an eau de parfum that Fragrantica classifies as an “amber floral”. I think that’s a misnomer; the “amber” quality is due to a vanilla accord which, oddly, isn’t listed as a note on Fragrantica but is listed on the brand’s website. Other notes are Rosa centifolia (one of the varieties most used in perfume), mandarin orange, musk, and “woody notes.” The mandarin orange note opens the fragrance, which quickly pivots to a beautiful, fresh, classic rose accord. As it dries down, Duchess Rose gets warmer and muskier in a soft progression toward its base notes. The rose accord is evident throughout, but the vanilla becomes an equal partner in its dance after a couple of hours. One of the things I like about this fragrance is that it starts out very dewy and fresh, because of the mandarin orange, then slowly warms up, with the floral aspect strongest in its heart phase. It reminds me of a sunny English summer day, dawning cool and fresh, the light becoming stronger as the sun rises, then warming into late afternoon.

Probably the most unusual new rose fragrance in my collection is Miguel Matos’ Miracle of Roses, which comes as an extrait. I was able to try it and buy it this spring in Barcelona, at The Perfumery (if you get a chance, do go visit this wonderful shop with its many niche and artisanal perfumes!). It is named for a legend about St. Elizabeth of Portugal, a medieval queen. M. Matos tells the story:

“Elizabeth was born in Zaragoza, Spain in 1271, she was the daughter of Peter III of Aragon and was married off to King Denis of Portugal in 1282. Throughout her life, Elizabeth demonstrated a great compassion to the poor and legend says she would leave the palace in disguise, in order to take food for the less fortunate.

The Miracle of Roses happens one day when the king discovered that Elizabeth was leaving the palace to take food to the poor. This is something that the queen had been forbidden to do. The king had threatened to lock her up and she was to never leave the palace again if the disobeyed. Despite this, the Queen never stopped feeding the poor and every day she would leave the palace and help her people.

One winter day, Elizabeth left the palace carrying pieces of bread hidden in her dress. As the King saw her going out, he asked, “What you are carrying?” She answered, “Roses, my lord.” As it was winter and roses were nowhere to be found at the time and in that cold weather, he demanded her to show him what she was carrying. When the queen unfolded her dress, roes fell on the floor.

The transformation of bread into roses is a miracle attributed to St Elizabeth of Portugal, a woman that set an example for devotion to God and kindness to her people. After the death of her husband in 1325, she entered the Santa Clara a Velha Monastery in Coimbra where she lived until 1336, when she passed. Pope Urban VIII canonized her in 1625.”

Miracle of Roses opens with a combination of cinnamon, bread, and milk. Yes, it really does smell of bread and milk, both of which are associated with kindness and charity. The next stage is where the rose makes its first appearance, accompanied by heliotrope, immortelle, and iris. The rose is not dominant, it is equaled here by the other flowers. The base notes are frequent “collaborators” with rose accords in fragrance: sandalwood, honey, incense, and woody notes. Miracle of Roses is a beautiful, slightly eccentric fragrance that is unlike any others I own. In fact, in future wearings I may add a drop on my wrist of the gorgeous attar of Taif roses that my husband bought for me in Dubai, to amp up the rose accord (don’t tell Miguel).

Speaking of Taif roses, the third rose fragrance I’ll use to discuss the note is Perris Monte Carlo’s Rose de Taif, an eau de parfum created by perfumer Luca Maffei; it is also available as an extrait. It is an aromatic, spicy rose, with herbal nuances. Fragrantica lists its notes as: geranium, lemon and nutmeg; middle note, Taif rose; base notes, damask rose and musk. Geranium and lemon are also common companions for roses in fragrance; they share some of the same molecules like geraniol. Not surprisingly, Rose de Taif smells a bit like a scented geranium, and less fruity than some rose-based fragrances. It is a far cry from the rose soaps that turned many people against rose in fragrance! It is clearly still a rose-centric fragrance, but it has a modern flair. As proof of that, my son’s very chic college girlfriend was at our house recently when I was wearing Rose de Taif for this blog post. She immediately sniffed the air and asked what smelled so great. I feel seen! Or smelled. The modern, spicy nuances of Rose de Taif also make it an ideal unisex fragrance, especially for men who may tend to avoid sweeter, more flowery rose scents. There are many great rose fragrances targeted to men these days, but I don’t see any reason why any man couldn’t wear whatever rose fragrance appeals to him, no matter who is the target customer.

Finally, Attar de Roses by Keiko Mecheri. My bottle has gone off a bit, so I get a sort of fermented rose smell when I first spray it, but that evaporates in seconds and becomes a lovely, warm, woody rose. It has been discontinued, so the brand’s website no longer lists it. According to Fragrantica, its notes include: Taif, Shiraz and Ancienne roses, jasmine, warm, woody notes, amber and leather. Jasmine is another classic rose companion in fragrance, famously paired with rose accords in perfumes like Chanel No. 5 and the late, great Joy by Jean Patou. Here, I barely detect it; the woody notes, which smell to me like sandalwood, are more evident to my nose. Although Attar de Roses is labeled as eau de parfum, I think it must have a high concentration of fragrance oil, because I can see it as a moist patch on the back of my hand where I sprayed it, long after that first spray. It stays rose-focused throughout its development in an almost linear fashion, which I appreciate when I’m in the mood.

Bringing us back to the garden aspects of rose fragrances, I actually found a scented geranium this year called – “Attar of Roses.” By golly, when you rub its leaves, it really does smell like a rose! Most scented geraniums smell like citronella or lemongrass to my nose. I like them, but I did a double-take when I smelled this one. So of course I bought it on the spot, and it is sitting in its own, smaller pot on the terrace where I grow my English Roses. I rarely bring tender plants inside to nurture over the winter and try to bring back in the spring, but I may have to make an exception for this one.

Rose fragrances tend to elicit strong feelings, as far as I can tell. Do you love or loathe rose fragrances, or do you have mixed reactions? Please add your thoughts in the comments – just remember that a fragrance you dislike may be another reader’s long-time favorite, so as always, please try not to give or take offense! Also, go see what Portia has to say, over at Australian Perfume Junkies. And Happy Fourth of July to my fellow Americans!

Notes on Notes logo
Notes on Notes; image by Portia Turbo.
Not my garden! Isola Bella, 2022
Notes on Notes: Narcissus
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Notes on Notes: Narcissus

Welcome to another installment of Notes on Notes, a collaboration with Portia of Australian Perfume Junkies! This month’s note is narcissus.

As many of you know, I am not only a perfumista but an avid gardener. And of the many flowers I love, a favorite genus is Narcissus. Some of the common names for members of this family are daffodils, jonquils, narcissi, paperwhites, etc. Most have a fragrance that I find very alluring; and I love the succession of spring blossoms they provide over a long season.

The flower is often said to have been named after a Greek myth recounted by the Latin poet Ovid, in his “Metamorphoses.” The story tells of a remarkably beautiful youth, Narcissus, who scorns the love of the many people who become infatuated with him, including the nymph Echo. The gods decide to punish him by decreeing that he would never know love, but any love he felt for another would be unrequited and unattainable. One day, while he was out hunting, he went to a spring to drink water and saw his own reflection. He fell instantly in love, but of course he could not embrace or converse with his watery double. Consumed by this unrequited love, he stayed by the pool, gazing only at himself, until he wasted away and died. When the nymphs came to bury his body, in its place they found only a beautiful flower – the narcissus.

However, there is another origin story for the narcissus, told by Homer in a hymn to Demeter, which says that the flower was created to lure Persephone away from her friends and her mother Demeter, so that Hades, god of the underworld, could abduct her: “a marvelous, radiant flower. It was a thing of awe whether for deathless gods or mortal men to see: from its root grew a hundred blooms and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven above and the whole earth and the sea’s salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy.” (translated from the Greek by Hugh G. Evelyn-White, Loeb Classical Library).

Narcissus absolute is extracted from real narcissus flowers, usually Narcissus poeticus, but sometimes Narcissus jonquilla or Narcissus tazetta, through a solvent method. It takes huge amounts of flowers to create a single kilogram of absolute, so it is an expensive ingredient. It is also very complex, with hints of its close cousins the lilies, but also echoes of jasmine, green notes, a touch of hay or tobacco, and even some animalic notes. Some people detect notes of leather in narcissus absolute. It is also possible to extract narcissus oil by using the traditional method of enfleurage.

Luckily, because natural narcissus absolute, concrete, and oil are all very expensive, there are excellent synthetic alternatives. Perfumer Sarah McCartney has a series of related fragrances in which she experimented with varying amounts of naturals and synthetics, the “Clouds” series, named after Joni Mitchell’s song “Both Sides Now.” The first two fragrances, Clouds and Clouds’ Illusion, were the same scent, crowd-funded by the Eau My Soul Facebook group, but Clouds used the more expensive naturals and Clouds’ Illusion used more synthetic versions of the same substances (with some of the less expensive naturals). Both Sides of Clouds is a remix, using both naturals and synthetics. I have and love all three, plus a later and darker sibling, Complicated Shadows.

The narcissus-based fragrances I like best are those that really evoke the flowers themselves, so I gravitate to the ones that combine green notes with the narcotic aspect of the blossoms that rely on indoles (like jasmine). Clouds’ Illusion fulfills that wish, and so does one of my all-time favorites, Penhaligon’s Ostara.

Penhaligon’s Ostara eau de parfum among daffodils

But I’ve written about both of them before, so today I’ll focus on Tom Ford’s Jonquille de Nuit. Launched in 2012, it was part of a group that included Ombre de Hyacinthe, Café Rose, and Lys Fumé. It was reissued in 2019 as part of Tom Ford’s “Private Blend Reserve Collection”. Jonquille de Nuit is a beautiful floral. The name deceives, however – it is not dark or sultry, as one might assume from “nuit” (night). TBH, it smells to me more like mimosa than jonquil, but it’s very pretty and sunny.

The opening notes are mimosa, violet leaf, angelica, cyclamen, bitter orange blossom; heart note is narcissus; and the base notes are orris and amber. The mimosa accord especially gives the impression of yellow pollen, somewhat like Ostara, which does not have mimosa listed as a note. Right from the start, Jonquille smells soapy, in a nice way, without smelling like aldehydes (I like aldehydes, but I don’t smell them here). The soapiness may be coming from the angelica accord.  There is a pleasant, understated greenness to the opening also, doubtless from the violet leaf accord. Overall, Jonquille smells quite synthetic, though not unpleasantly so.

To my nose, Jonquille de Nuit is a fragrance that evokes jonquils rather than representing them. Ostara, on the other hand, smells like an actual bouquet of daffodils. A favorite blogger and author, Neil Chapman of The Black Narcissus, calls it “frighteningly hyper-realistic” in his book “Perfume: In Search of Your Signature Scent.” (I can’t write a post about narcissus without mentioning his eponymous blog which I highly recommend). I like Jonquille de Nuit and I’m glad I have a couple of decants from a scent subscription, but I wouldn’t pay the exorbitant prices I see for it.  Personally, for that amount of money, I would go buy another back-up bottle of Ostara! Or another bottle of the parfum version of Both Sides of Clouds, which I’ve been enjoying this spring and which I believe contains real narcissus absolute.

Speaking of insane prices, one of the fragrances I considered for this post was Narcisse, by Chloe, as I have a 30 ml bottle. It still has its price tag from a brick and mortar discount store: $14.99. Discontinued, it now lists online for three figures! While I like Narcisse, and it captures the narcotic, indolic aura of the flowers, it rests pretty far down my list of fragrances, so I’m glad I snagged my one small bottle when I did. I don’t feel the need for another.

Do you have any favorite fragrances named for, or containing, narcissus? Also, happy May Day – I won’t be doing a May Marathon on the blog this year as I’ll be traveling again this month, but do enjoy my “May Muguet Marathon” and “Roses de Mai Marathon” from prior years! Check out what Portia has to say about narcissus; and look for our next collaborative post, “Counterpoint“, where we choose a fragrance and each of us answers the same list of questions about it.

Notes on Notes logo
Notes on Notes; image by Portia Turbo.
Counterpoint: Jean Patou’s Joy
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Counterpoint: Jean Patou’s Joy

Welcome to a monthly collaboration new for 2023! Portia Turbo of Australian Perfume Junkies and I had so much fun doing “Scent Semantics” with some other fragrance bloggers in 2022 that we decided to launch TWO regular features as a new collaboration this year. The first, which we plan to post on the first Monday of each month, is “Notes on Notes“, in which we choose one note and write about it however the spirit moves us; last month’s Note was on galbanum. This second feature is “Counterpoint“, in which we ask ourselves the same handful of questions about a single fragrance and post our separate thoughts on it, on the third Monday of each month. We’re still experimenting with format, so comments on that are welcome too!

This month’s Counterpoint fragrance is Jean Patou’s Joy (we shall ignore the imposter Dior launched in 2018 after acquiring the name and the brand). Jean Patou was one of the great designers and couturiers of pre World War 2 Europe, with his own couture house. Joy was launched in 1930 at the outset of the Great Depression, apparently so that M. Patou’s haute couture clients could still enjoy something created by him even if they couldn’t buy his dresses any more. The true creator, of course, was the perfumer; in this case, Henri Alméras.

Joy was famously promoted as the “costliest perfume in the world”, which was probably a marketing ploy but also reflected the high quality and cost of its ingredients, including absolutes made from jasmine and roses from Grasse. It was also meant to compete with Chanel No.5 as a luxury perfume. They share some qualities and notes, but each is distinct from the other, and instantly recognizable to many.

The fragrance "Joy" by Jean Patou
Jean Patou’s Joy; image from Portia at Australian Perfume Junkies

1. How did you first encounter Joy, and what was your first impression?

Old Herbaceous: I first tried Joy after I had gone down the rabbit-hole of this fragrance hobby. I knew it was one of the 20th century’s most legendary fragrances and that my perfume education would be incomplete if I didn’t try it. I found a tester of the eau de toilette at a very reasonable price, so I took the plunge and bought it blind.

My first impression was kind of “meh.” It was okay but I didn’t like it as much as the Chanels I already had, for example, or some of the more exciting new fragrances I was trying. It felt a bit old-fashioned, more than the Chanels did, and I couldn’t recognize its separate notes. As my nose became more educated, though, and I was trying more different kinds of fragrances, I came to like Joy better.

Portia: Honestly I have no memory of first smelling Joy by Patou. It seemed to be around in my childhood. It was definitely work by my Mum at some point and by various Aunts and friends Mums. There is no one specific image or memory I can conjure of my early encounters though. 

When I started buying vintages I was so unaware of exactly how it should smell I sent a couple of samples around the world for confirmation and bought samples from Posh Peasant for comparison. So I’m taking my first vintage splash bottle as if it was the first time I smelled it. The only memory I have of that was being overwhelmed by this extraordinary scent. Eye-rollingly gorgeous stuff, I think I bought about a dozen bottles so I’d never be without it again, mainly vintage parfums and a couple of those 45ml EdT or EdP.

2. How would you describe the development of Joy?

Portia: Today I’m wearing both the vintage EdP and vintage parfum. I’m not sure exactly the years but the picture might give you an idea.

Opening is sharp white flowers, aldehydes and a swirl of ylang. It’s rich, plush and sumptuous. I know Joy is supposed to be rose and white floweer but the roses take a far back seat on the bus for ages before they start to become a serious contender. Even when they do make their play it’s only as a backup not the main event.

What I do smell as we hit the heart is fruit. Not that modern super sweet candy-ised fruit but that vintage tinned fruit salad. Yeah, it’s sweet but more robust, less headache inducing.

There is also a lovely, stemmy green note that could be hyacinth and it borders on torn twig. It’s verdant but also bitter and gives a lovely counterpoint to the bouquet and fruit.

Hiding deep below is also a little growly tiger and breathy, sweet jasmine.

As the fragrance heads towards dry down, the woods and animalics become more pronounced. Not dirty or ass-ish but smoothly skin-like, me but so much better.

Old Herbaceous: The notes listed for the original Joy are: tuberose, rose, ylang-ylang, aldehydes, pear, and green notes. The heart notes include jasmine and iris root. The base has notes of musk, sandalwood, and, in the vintage, civet. The version I have is the eau de toilette and it dates to 2016. Fragrantica lists this version’s notes as: Top notes — Bulgarian Rose, Ylang-Ylang and Tuberose; middle notes — Jasmine and May Rose; base notes — Musk and Sandalwood.

I think there are still some aldehydes in the opening, even if no longer listed, to give it some lift. There’s a pleasant soapiness to Joy that I associate with aldehydes; and I think they are the cause of so many people feeling that Joy is old-fashioned. I smell the ylang-ylang more than I do the other floral top notes, and then the jasmine arrives. It isn’t overpowering but it is very evident, much more so than the rose notes. I don’t smell any iris, root or bloom, at all, so that may not have become part of the modern EDT. It’s not quite as abstract a flower as Chanel No.5, but it is in that same vein. Even in EDT format, Joy has good longevity and sillage. A little goes a long way, given how dominant jasmine is. The final stage of this modern Joy on my skin is all soft sandalwood and white musk, like expensive soap.

Jean Patou’s Joy eau de toilette

3. Do you or will you wear Joy regularly? For what occasions or seasons?

Old Herbaceous: I don’t think I’ll wear Joy regularly, but that’s mostly because I now have such a large collection of fragrances that there are only a few I would say I “wear regularly.” Joy definitely gets more love from me than it used to, and it’s in a convenient location, so I do reach for it occasionally. It’s great for church or the office, because if you don’t overspray, it’s quite subtle and ladylike. It’s one of those fragrances that doesn’t jump out at anyone, it just smells very nice. By the same token, if you want your fragrance to make more of an impression, Joy may not be the one to choose that day (or night), unless the parfum has more impact (I haven’t tried that version).

Portia: Joy is so fabulous but rarely gets the spritz, splash ot swipe here. Every so often I get out the Patou box and grab Joy. I’ll wear it and put it back. Then I won’t think of it for months. That doesn’t lessen my love for it but it seems to fit only rarely. 

I’m hoping that enjoying wearing it so much today and yesterday that it might inspire me to wear it more often.

4. Who should/could wear Joy?

Portia: Joy needs a certain amount of preparation if you’re not a regular wearer. It’s big, bold and makes a statement. It’s tenacity is also legendary, so you have to be ready to smell of this iconic beauty for at least half a day. Anyone who chooses Joy is choosing to smell of a fragrance that will not be easily available for us to buy when the bottle runs out. So they are wearing something precious and on it’s way to extinction. That alone tells you something of the wearer. Either they are so wealthy that they can stockpile or such a hedonist that wearing it to the dregs and enjoying every second is better than having it forever. No, I check myself. There are other reasons. Wearing it as a memory scent, to mark special occasions, as a lure or any number of wonderful reasons. 

Really though, anyone who wants to smell spectacular and relive the joy of wearing Joy by Patou before it’s gone forever.

Old Herbaceous: As always, I say anyone who wants to can wear Joy or any other fragrance! Joy does give off a certain demure, ladylike air, at least in EDT form, but that could be deployed to great effect if the wearer isn’t, in fact, demure, ladylike, or even a lady. For myself, I prefer some of the reissued “Collection Heritage” fragrances created by Thomas Fontaine when he was Jean Patou’s head perfumer, especially Chaldée and L’Heure Attendue.

If you want to experience this legendary fragrance, I recommend getting some soon. Dior’s Joy is a pallid successor at best, but all the Jean Patou fragrances are now out of production, since LVMH bought the brand (to the howls of the faithful) and changed its name to just “Patou”. The fragrances are still widely available online and I’m told that Joy was so popular among ladies of my mother’s generation and even beyond that it is often found at estate sales. In fact, when a FiFi award was given in 2000 to the “perfume of the century”, it was given to Joy and NOT to its competitor No.5. So now really is the time to get yourself this small exemplar of 20th century fashion and creativity. I’ll be keeping my eye out for vintage parfum, since that’s the version that has gotten the most rave reviews (including from Luca Turin, who gave it his rare five-star rating) and that Portia finds so alluring.

Have you experienced Joy? What did you think? Has your opinion changed over time, as mine did?

Counter/Point, a monthly blog collaboration
Perfume Chat Room, March 31
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Perfume Chat Room, March 31

Welcome to the Friday Perfume Chat Room, perfumistas! I envision this chat room as a weekly drop-in spot online, where readers may ask questions, suggest fragrances, tell others their SOTD, comment on new releases or old favorites, and respond to each other. The perennial theme is fragrance, but we can interpret that broadly. This is meant to be a kind space, so please try not to give or take offense, and let’s all agree to disagree when opinions differ. In fragrance as in life, your mileage may vary! YMMV.

Today is Friday, March 31 — is your March “going out like a lion”? I think our weather lion has already left the building, though I risk jinxing us by saying so. We had low temps of 40 degrees F earlier this week, and tomorrow it’s supposed to approach 80 degrees. My plants are so confused. I still have daffodils coming up, but my lilies of the valley and roses are also now starting to bloom. One David Austin rose in particular is so fragrant as well as beautiful! It’s called “Fighting Temeraire”, after a famous painting, and it has a strong fruity rose fragrance that carries. This is one of the reasons I love David Austin’s English Rose hybrids — not only are they beautiful, in many colors, but they were bred and selected to be highly fragrant.

David Austin English Rose "Fighting Temeraire"; image from www.gardentags.com
David Austin English Rose “Fighting Temeraire”; image from http://www.gardentags.com

Yes, this rose’s blossoms really are that big! Speaking of fragrance and spring, Portia and I will resume our collaboration on Monday, now that we’ve both returned home from travels, with “Notes On Notes” (first Monday of each month) and “Counterpoint” (third Monday of each month). I’ll give you a hint: the note we’ve chosen for April appears in many green fragrances. Please join us!

I just got in the mail a sample of Parfums Dusita’s new fragrance; she’s running another contest to name it, on the Eau My Soul Facebook page. Are any of you taking part? I haven’t even sniffed it yet, but I’m looking forward to it.

Perfume Chat Room, March 24
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Perfume Chat Room, March 24

Welcome to the Friday Perfume Chat Room, perfumistas! I envision this chat room as a weekly drop-in spot online, where readers may ask questions, suggest fragrances, tell others their SOTD, comment on new releases or old favorites, and respond to each other. The perennial theme is fragrance, but we can interpret that broadly. This is meant to be a kind space, so please try not to give or take offense, and let’s all agree to disagree when opinions differ. In fragrance as in life, your mileage may vary! YMMV.

Today is Friday, March 24, and Spring has sprung! We’ve gone in just a couple of days from temps below freezing at night, back to sunny and in the 70s. The pollen is flying everywhere leaving yellow dust in its wake and all over cars. All over everything, actually. Thank goodness for non-drowsy antihistamines!

I still have daffodils, azaleas, and dogwoods in bloom, and one rose bush that has started blooming its head off. In honor of William Morris’ birthday today, NST’s community project is to wear a scent that can be matched with anything to do with him — his art, his designs, his books and poems — whatever. I love William Morris designs, so I matched one of my favorites (actually designed for him by J.H. Dearle) called “Daffodil” with my beloved Ostara, by Penhaligon.

Drawn design for fabric with daffodils
Design for “Daffodil” by JH Dearle for William Morris & Co.; image from the William Morris Gallery.

All the spring scents are jumbled together outside in a charming melange that includes grass, flowers, trees, dirt, and rain. My poor vegetable garden froze solid back in December. I didn’t bother replanting winter vegetables, I just spread more compost so it could “season” until the weather is warm enough to plant again, and the compost is adding to the mix of smells.

Portia and I have decided we will just wait until April to resume our “Notes on Notes” and “Counterpoint” collaborations, since we were both traveling a lot in March. We’ve got some great material to discuss! If you want to suggest 1) fragrance notes; or 2) specific fragrances that you’d like us to tackle, please let us know in the comments!

And for those in the Northern Hemisphere, happy Spring!

Scented Advent, December 22
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Scented Advent, December 22

Today’s Advent scent, by independent perfumer Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, is Sugar Plums. Every year, her house DSH Perfumes releases a new, limited issue holiday fragrance. (Fear not, you can still buy the prior years’ fragrances in her holiday sample sets). Sugar Plums is number 22, this year’s holiday fragrance, also particularly apropos on December 22.

Ms. Hurwitz says that Sugar Plums was inspired by her love for the ballet “The Nutcracker”, and especially the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. Her description:

A dancing, celebratory plum chypre fragrance with a frangipani heart bouquet, soft cardamom & ginger spices, touches of incense, and delicious gourmand elements in the drydown. How beautiful and festive! This year’s inspiration comes from a perennial holiday favorite “The Nutcracker”. I have long loved this dreamy ballet; especially the dance of the sugar plum fairies. I have to admit that I have long considered this theme (it’s been in my notebook of ideas for years) for the dancing, dreamlike quality that the concept invokes. Sugar Plums is not really all that sweet… instead it is a celebratory swirl of rich plum, delicate spices, warming incense, and a surprising combination of gourmand elements in a classical chypre structure in the drydown. This may sound like a cacophony of elements, but it comes together beautifully to make a true holiday classic.

DSH Perfumes and Now Smell This
The Nutcracker ballet, Atlanta Ballet
Atlanta Ballet Nutcracker, 2014, Waltz of the Flowers with the Sugar Plum Fairy; image from Atlanta Ballet

Finally, a fragrance in which I can really smell the cardamom! Sometimes I see it listed as a note or accord and I just can’t detect it; that makes me sad because I love the smell of cardamom. Sugar Plums is a very beautiful fragrance, with just the right level of spice and incense. I think the gourmand aspects of the drydown, mentioned about, come from tonka bean; it seems to be combined with some patchouli, giving this modern chypre its base note that in a prior era might have been oakmoss.

Sugar Plums has a spiced fruit opening, which I believe is a combination of a plum accord with the cardamom. The incense slowly appears and rises; it is a soft, gentle incense. I’ll have to take Ms. Hurwitz’ word for it that the floral heart is frangipani; it’s beautiful but I don’t think I could have picked out frangipani as the floral accord. The cardamom and incense persist after the floral notes have receded, and they carry on right into the base notes, two of which I think are tonka and patchouli. This isn’t a sweet fragrance, though it has some sweet accords. My sample is the Voile de Parfum formulation, which is oil-based, and it lasts well on my skin, still very detectable several hours after application. I like it very much! Now I’m eager to try the rest of DSH Perfumes’ holiday fragrances.

My favorite version of The Nutcracker is the former production by the Atlanta Ballet, choreographed by John McFall, in which our daughters appeared as children for several years. I always loved the sets and costumes, which looked more Russian than Victorian, and the choreography was spectacular (ignore the advert for ticket sales, this production ended 4 years ago!):

Is going to The Nutcracker, or watching it on film, a tradition in your family? Do you have a favorite version?

Scented Advent, December 19
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Scented Advent, December 19

My Guerlain Advent scent today is Néroli Outrenoir, another “citrus aromatic”, created by Thierry Wasser and Delphine Jelk and launched in 2016. It’s very, very appealing. Per Fragrantica, top notes are Petitgrain, Bergamot, Tangerine, Lemon and Grapefruit; middle notes are Tea, Neroli, Orange Blossom, Smoke and Earthy Notes; base notes are Myrrh, Vanilla, Benzoin, Ambrette (Musk Mallow) and Oakmoss.

That citrusy opening is very uplifting, a mix of greenness and, well, citrus. It reminds me a bit of Miller Harris’ Tangerine Vert. To my nose, the most prominent notes are the petitgrain, tangerine, and lemon, but I definitely smell the bergamot, and a whiff of the grapefruit. Very soon, tea is served, and it is a black tea with lemon in it. It does have a floralcy that comes from the néroli and orange blossom, but to me the strongest impression is of black tea and lemon, with a tinge of smokiness. Almost like a lapsang souchong tea, but not as smoky or tarry.

This scent is like chiaroscuro, the painting technique that famously contrasts light and dark, the leading examples being the paintings of the great Caravaggio. It starts out very bright and sunny, with all the citrus notes in the opening. Then the brightness dims a bit, and softens and blurs, with the arrival of accords of tea and flowers. As it dries down, it gets gradually darker but also warmer, with the base notes especially of benzoin, ambrette and oakmoss. Myrrh and vanilla accords are present, but to a lesser degree.

Neroli Outrenoir has decent longevity on my skin, though nothing like Épices Volèes. It’s also a different kind of citrus/tea fragrance, one with more depth. I think it’s totally unisex and it would smell wonderful in warm weather, especially warm summer evenings. It’s fresh enough for hot weather but sophisticated enough for evening wear.

Very nice! Do you have any fragrances that contrast light and dark this way?

Oil painting of the Nativity, by Caravaggio
Nativity with St. Francis and St. Lawrence, by Caravaggio; image from Photo Scala