Fragrance Friday: Cranberry Chutney

Fragrance Friday: Cranberry Chutney

Like many of you, I’m sure, I spent most of yesterday (Thanksgiving) in the kitchen, happily cooking my way through a number of favorite recipes. One of them is a fragrant chutney I discovered a few years ago, made with cranberries and an excellent replacement for the ubiquitous cranberry sauce that lingers, uneaten, on too many Thanksgiving tables.

Cranberries are considered one of the quintessential Thanksgiving foods, probably because cranberries are native to North America and were known to have been eaten by the Native Americans, and by English settlers in North America as early as the first half of the seventeenth century, according to Martha Stewart. They are highly nutritious, a true superfood with a lot of nutrient bang for the caloric buck as they are low in sugar. However, traditional cranberry sauce recipes tend to add a lot of sugar to this otherwise healthy fruit. As a lover of Indian food, I was happy to find several different recipes for cranberry-based savory chutney; the version I make includes much less sugar, and one of my favorite spices/fragrances, cardamom.

Cranberry Chutney recipe (adapted from Food and Style):

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Fragrance Friday: Les Saisons Automne

Fragrance Friday: Les Saisons Automne

Ah, fall. I love autumn. It kicks off with my birthday and showcases my favorite trees, the gorgeous Japanese maples in all their color and variety. I’ve always loved school, and fall is the season of new beginnings in school. The anticipation of a new school year, with new classmates and possibilities … Come to think of it, fall really is the season of anticipation for me. It leads us into Advent, another season I love, and the series of holidays I cherish in America: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s. Anticipation also rises as I plant bulbs in the fall; they produce many of my favorite flowers, often fragrant, and each bulb is like a small gift wrapped in brown paper.

This fall, I am enjoying Van Cleef & Arpels’ Automne, from their series Les Saisons. The perfumer behind it is none other than Francis Kurkdjian, of MFK fame. According to Fragrantica:

Every perfume from the series is dedicated to a certain season of the year: the symbol of the series is a tree that changes, but stays the same. Automne is the scent of the fall; the scent of yellow leaves and moist branches; the scent of a golden autumn forest. Woody fragrance with mild spicy and floral notes warms you like a wool scarf. The composition opens with fresh notes of Italian lemon, black currant and red berries, developing into the heart of white sandalwood, lily and almond. The base is filled with heliotrope, cedar wood and musk.

One of the aspects I am enjoying most about Automne is that it differs from many “fall” fragrances in that it retains a predominantly floral aura while still offering the spicy and woody notes many of us want in an autumnal perfume. Other fragrances I enjoy in the fall are more boozy, more spicy, but I love this one because it reminds me that flowers are still blooming in autumn. My own garden still has a few late roses; my azaleas are throwing off some unseasonal blooms; the sasanqua camellias are blossoming in shades of pink and white. The lily notes in Automne remind me of the fragrance I anticipate from the bulbs I plant in this season, while the delicate warmth and wood notes evoke both the Japanese maples I love and the papery covering of spring bulbs.

The classic Easter lily, lilium longiflorum, is also native to Japan, as is Lilium auratum, the legendary “golden-rayed lily”.

Lilium auratum, or golden-rayed lily of Japan

Lilium auratum; image from http://www.gardenia.net.

I do not grow the golden-rayed lily, but I have a number of Easter lilies in my garden, usually planted out after I have bought them in bud for Easter adornment.

White trumpet Easter lily, or lilium longiflorum.

Lilium longiflorum; image from http://www.southeasternflora.com

Automne opens with a refreshing citrus accord, dominated by Italian lemon but including also black currant and red berries. It feels fresh and lively, not sweet. The scent quickly moves into a combination of floral and woody notes, specifically lily and sandalwood. The creamy almond note is present but it seems to function mostly as a way to soften the edges of the sandalwood and bridge that woody note to the softer floral note of the lily.  This stage lasts a while, though nothing about this scent lasts very long.

As it dries down, Automne gently fades into softer and softer floral notes (heliotrope) underlaid by cedar and some mild spices. In fact, the spice note smells like allspice to me: gentle but very much present. I don’t really notice the musk base note, which is fine. After about an hour, Automne is really a skin scent with little sillage, but I enjoy that. It is an excellent fragrance to wear to office, church, library, etc., as it won’t affront anyone’s nose and stays close to its wearer. I also like it because you can’t really overspray it. Its longevity improves if applied over moisturized skin; I’m looking forward to trying it over a light body oil, for example, SheaMoisture’s baby oil that contains traces of frankincense and myrrh. That seems like a very nice way to anticipate the arrival of Advent in this autumnal season of anticipation.

What do you like or dislike about this season? What are some favorite fall fragrances?

Fragrance Friday: Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose

Fragrance Friday: Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose

I love carnations. Not in floral arrangements, where they have been sadly overused as inexpensive filler, but in the garden and even in a vase if they are left on their own as a simple bunch of pretty, scented flowers. I love the scent of carnations — the hint of spiciness with more than a suggestion of cloves, combined with the green freshness of a florist’s refrigerator. And so I really like L’Artisan Parfumeur’s Oeillet Sauvage.

There is nothing savage about it, but perhaps “sauvage” should rather be translated as “wild”, as in “wildflower”. Oeillet Sauvage is a soft, fresh floral, with the same delightful, gentle spiciness of the flowers and a hint of freshness. It is not a duplicate of real carnations’ scent, but it is true to their essence, with nuances from other floral notes. Fragrantica lists its notes as: pink pepper, rose, carnation, ylang-ylang, lily, wallflower, morning glory, resin and vanilla. And those reminded me of a long-favorite painting: John Singer Sargent’s Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose:

Painting by American artist John Singer Sargent; Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose

John Singer Sargent; Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose

I have read that while Sargent was painting this twilight scene, in which the special, evanescent quality of that hour’s light is as much a subject as the children, the flowers and the paper lanterns, he would set up his easel outside for just the brief time every day when the light was exactly right, and he would run back and forth, back and forth, between the subjects and his easel, to capture just the right shades of color. Now THAT is dedication to one’s art.

He also painted it during the early autumn months of 1885, in September, October and November, resuming work the next summer and finishing it in October of 1886. I have loved this painting since I first saw it, with its crepuscular glow, peaceful children with faces lit by the gentle candlelight of the paper lanterns, with the fragrant, late summer flowers seeming to float in the air around them. According to Wikipedia, the title comes from the refrain of a popular 19th century song, “Ye Shepherds Tell Me”, which describes Flora, goddess of flowers, wearing “a wreath around her head, around her head she wore, carnation, lily, lily, rose”.

I have read others’ comments about Oeillet Sauvage in which they express disappointment that it is not the same as a pre-reformulation version and it is not as spicy as they would like. I can’t speak to the concern about reformulation, not having smelled an earlier version. I don’t think this version suffers from a lack of spiciness, in my view, as I am enjoying the softer, powdery impression it leaves. To me, that is evocative of the soft, pink-tinged light in Sargent’s painting. Now that I have made that association, I am not yearning after more spice. The painting even includes the slight greenness that greets me when I first spray Oeillet Sauvage, in the grass beneath the children’s feet. Fragrantica commenter Angeldaisy wrote: “it has an airiness, a lightness, like a billowing floral print diaphanous chiffon frock in a meadow on a summers day.” Or like the white lawn dresses of Sargent’s subjects.

As it dries down, I get less carnation and more lily, which I like. The greenness disappears, while resins and vanilla warm up the scent like the glow of the candles in Sargent’s Japanese lanterns. I’m not sure what the notes of wallflowers and morning glories are meant to smell like, but they are old-fashioned flowers that would have fit in perfectly in Sargent’s Cotswolds garden.

If you like soft, gentle, feminine, floral fragrances, this may be one for you! It is readily available online for reasonable prices. Have you tried this, or other carnation-based fragrances? What did you think? And happy Fragrance Friday!

Fragrance Friday: Un Jardin Apres La Mousson

Fragrance Friday: Un Jardin Apres La Mousson

Given the hurricanes we have recently endured here in my part of the world, and in honor of my dear friend who evacuated from Florida a week ago and is able, happily, to return to her intact home tomorrow, it’s time for me to comment on a favorite fragrance: Un Jardin Apres La Mousson, translated as “a garden after the monsoon.” Very apropos, especially considering that my friend is a landscape architect and designer of lovely gardens!

Un Jardin Apres La Mousson is, of course, one of the “Jardin” series of fragrances created for Hermes by Jean-Claude Ellena while he was their in-house perfumer. I love all five of them, but this one is high on my list. Hermes’ website describes it as a unisex fragrance meant to evoke the calm of a wet garden in India after the rain“A serene expression of nature’s rebirth after the monsoon rains.” Jean-Claude Ellena

Un Jardin après la Mousson explores unexpected aspects of India, when the monsoon gives back what the sun has taken from the earth, and drives away the scorching breath of drought. In this novella, ginger, cardamom, coriander, pepper and vetiver tell the story of nature’s rebirth, captured in Kerala in a world overflowing with water.

Mousson’s specific fragrance notes include: cardamom, coriander, pepper, ginger, ginger flower, vetiver, and unspecified citrus, floral and water notes (it seems that the citruses are lime and bergamot). The spices are not hot or warm or traditionally “spicy.” They present themselves as “cool” spices, after a refreshing initial gust of citrus on first application. Omitted from the official list of notes is melon, which clings to the whole composition; some wearers experience that note as more like cucumber. Its presence is confirmed by a later analysis revealing that the aromachemical Melonal is a key ingredient.

Both melons and cucumbers are members of the plant family Cucurbitaceae, the flowering gourds. Both are indigenous to India and have been cultivated there for thousands of years, possibly as long ago as 3000 years. Many varieties of each are cultivated in Kerala and are widely used in Indian cuisine, with cucumbers especially often combined with the spices listed as notes for Mousson. The cucurbits grown in Kerala are “rain-fed crops”, benefiting from the region’s monsoon rains.

Cultivation of gourds and melons hanging from vines in India

Melons and gourds cultivated in India; photo from asianetindia.com

I have never been to India, but I have read that Kerala is one of its most beautiful regions, with tropical beaches and islands, breathtaking waterfalls, tea and cardamom plantations in the hills, rivers, lakes and houseboats. Some travel writers say that monsoon season is an idyllic time there, as the rains are not incessant deluges as in other regions, but daily downpours that last a few hours and disperse every day, allowing sunshine to reveal a remarkably verdant, rain-washed landscape. The rains replenish the famous waterfalls, lakes and rivers and cool the air. Monsoon season is also the time for the harvest festival of Onam; and it is reputed to be the best time for the ayurvedic treatments for which the region is famous.

Kerala, India, waterfall and green mountains during monsoon rainy season.

Kerala waterfall in monsoon season; photo from iryas/wikipedia.

Jean-Claude Ellena visited Kerala more than once during his work on Mousson. One of his trips is described by Phoebe Eaton in Liquid Assets:

In coastal Kerala, spices have been trafficked since the Romans rode in on the winds of the monsoons seeking cardamom and pepper: black gold. Women wear their saris differently here than they do up north, draping them like togas. And when the first monsoon blows in from the Arabian Sea — and it always seems to arrive during the first week of June, extinguishing the scorching rays of the summer sun and ushering in a joyful verdant renewal — the modest women of Kerala rush out into the rain, and the saris cling close to the body.

Chant Wagner wrote a lovingly detailed review of Mousson when it was released in 2008, at www.mimifroufrou.com. She’s a fan, as is Luca Turin; Chandler Burr was not. The latter’s review is puzzling; he spends more than a few sentences on his hypothesis that Ellena’s new creation would present a new experience of the aromachemical Calone, then he expresses outrage that it turns out not to be among the ingredients and calls Mousson a failure. Turin, on the other hand, praises the “core accord” as a “combination of melon, capsicum, and peppercorns” with an “incongruously fruity” effect. His review also notes the watery effects which Chant Wagner describes so well:

From the vantage point of the watery motif, it offers a notable variation on it by introducing a lactic, milky sensation that makes the perfume feel both aqueous, transparent and cloud-like. The fruit that is showcased here – a green cantaloupe going at times in the direction of a buttery watermelon – is [as] fluidly delineated as an impressionistic fruit can be.

Aqueous, transparent and cloud-like. Those words perfectly describe some of the lovely photographs I’ve seen of Kerala during monsoon season:

Clouds over mountains in Kerala, India, during monsoon season.

Kerala in monsoon season; photo sreetours.com

Mousson’s bottle is also lovely; it matches all the bottles of the other Jardin fragrances and, like them, is tinted with ombre shades of green, blue, or both (here, green is combined with blue). The bottle has a pleasing weight in the hand. The outer box is printed with a charming Hermes print of fanciful elephants, monkeys and parrots, cavorting amid flowers with tiny parasols in their grasp.

Print for outer box of Hermes' eau de toilette Un Jardin Apres La Mousson

Un Jardin Apres La Mousson print; hermes.com

I find Un Jardin Apres La Mousson intriguing, delightful, and different. I especially enjoy it during the summers here, which are hot and humid. As an admitted fan of all the Jardin fragrances, and a gardener myself, I may be biased! Have you tried this, or any of the others, and what did you think?

un-jardin-apres-la-mousson-boat

Un Jardin Apres La Mousson; image from Hermes, perfumista.vn

Fragrance Friday: Total Eclipse of the Sun

Fragrance Friday: Total Eclipse of the Sun

I live in a part of the US that was near, but not in, the zone of “totality” for this week’s total solar eclipse. Nevertheless, the moon’s coverage of the sun peaked here at about 98%, which was dramatic. Lots of excitement about it in my city; libraries, museums and schools handed out free “eclipse glasses” so people could look at it safely (btw: yes, you can go blind from looking directly at a solar eclipse, or at least do serious damage to your eyes).

One blog I follow had the wonderful idea of asking perfumistas what special scent they would wear for the occasion. Many responses were that the commenter would wear either a really special occasion perfume, or something that referred to the sun or moon. My choice? L’Heure Attendue, by Jean Patou. I mean, how could I not choose that? This week’s eclipse was the DEFINITION of the “awaited hour”; some estimates claim that American employers lost several hundred million dollars of productivity due to their workplaces coming to a halt during the eclipse. (Not shedding tears for them. This major astronomical event doesn’t happen every day).

So, L’Heure Attendue. It was launched in 1946, the reference being to the long-awaited liberation of Paris and the end of World War II. The perfumer was Henri Almeras, working for the couture house of Jean Patou, who created most of Patou’s legendary fragrances including Joy. The vintage advertising showed the perfume as a rising sun and the beautiful bottle shared that optimistic image of dawn:

Vintage bottle and package of L'Heure Attendue perfume by Jean Patou

L’Heure Attendue vintage; photo from jeanpatouperfumes.blogspot.com

Australian Perfume Junkies has some lovely photos of a vintage bottle found in an antiques market, with commentary. According to some commentators, the house of Patou registered the name as early as 1940, after the Nazi invasion of France and occupation of Paris, already hoping for the end of the war. The original ad copy says: “Created in a mood of hope, to capture your dreams, your desires, to bring them nearer to realization …”

It has been reformulated at least twice: once in 1984, when some of Patou’s classic perfumes were reissued, and again in 2014, as part of Patou’s “Collection Heritage.”

Six bottles of reformulated classic Jean Patou perfumes: Duex Amours, Adieu Sagesse, Que Sais-Je?, Colony, L'Heure Attendue, Vacances

Jean Patou Collection Heritage 2014; photo from perfumemaster.org

That is the version I have, and it is lovely. The reformulation was done by Thomas Fontaine. I would be remiss if I didn’t comment on the bottle. It is heavy, high-quality glass, clear enough to be mistaken for crystal; the weight and the rounded shape of the bottle feel elegant in the hand. It is a pleasure to hold. The notes are listed on Fragrantica as: top notes: tangerine, aldehydes and neroli; middle notes are rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang and peach; base notes are opoponax, patchouli, sandalwood and amber.

These notes are quite different from those listed for the 1946 original: top: lily of the valley, geranium, lilac; heart: ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, opopanax; base: mysore sandalwood, vanilla, patchouli. The opening must be very different from the original, but it is delightfully sunny: a light hand with the aldehydes but enough to give it a classic nuance, combined with the light floral of neroli and freshened by the citrusy tangerine (a fragrance note I appreciate more and more — not too sour, not too sweet).

The middle notes of rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang and peach are almost the same as the original except for the addition of peach and the placement of the opoponax; my nose isn’t sophisticated enough to distinguish whether the latter is appearing among the heart notes or, as listed for the original, in the base notes. Opoponax is also known as “sweet myrrh” and is used to impart sweet, honeyed balsamic notes. In the 2014 L’Heure Attendue, it lends a lightly Oriental nuance to the floral notes that deepens as the fragrances dries down. Overall, though, I don’t think I would place it in the category of spicy Oriental, as I don’t pick up on any spices here, just warmth. Maybe it’s a “floriental.”

The base notes in the 2014 formulation differ from those listed for the original: they are opoponax, sandalwood, patchouli and amber. The original lists opoponax as a middle note, with sandalwood, patchouli and vanilla in the base. The only real difference is the substitution of amber for vanilla. I think Mr. Fontaine may have carried forward the sweetness of the peach in his reformulation to combine with the amber in the base and create an impression of vanilla-like warmth.

I do find this L’Heure Attendue to be a warm scent, unlike at least one other reviewer‘s reaction to the vintage original EDT. She found the lilac note of the original to be melancholy; it is not present in the new version, nor are the geranium and lily of the valley notes from 1946. PerfumeMaster sums up the new one nicely: “The fog in the atmosphere has dissolved, night is no more and the sun has risen gloriously once again.” That’s also a pretty good description of the recent eclipse! It was truly amazing to watch the black circle of the moon slowly creep across the face of the mid-afternoon sun blazing in the sky. As I was not in the path of eclipse “totality”, daylight did not disappear, but the light dimmed noticeably and the temperature cooled ever so slightly when the moon’s coverage of the sun was at its peak. The leaves of the trees acted as pinhole cameras, with the light of the eclipse shining through tiny gaps between them and casting thousands of crescent-shaped shadows on the ground. The moon continued its progress and full daylight was eventually restored.

As L’Heure Attendue slowly fades on my skin hours later, it leaves a lingering, sweet warmth. It is elegant and ladylike, but not chilly. It almost feels like a softer, gentler Chanel No. 5, probably because of the similar floral heart notes, the aldehydes in the top notes, and sandalwood and patchouli among the base notes. They have other notes in common — notably, Chanel No. 5 EDP (created in 1986 by Jacques Polge) has a peach top note, which the original L’Heure Attendue did not have but the new one includes as a heart note. I’m glad to recognize the similarities, as the original Chanel No. 5 eau de toilette and parfum were my mother’s scents and I don’t want to wear that particular Chanel, but I’m enjoying this “kissing cousin” very much. I especially like the contrast between the sunny opening, the progression through rosiness, and the slow, warm drydown. Like the dawn of a new day … the awaited hour.

Photo of sun at dawn behind clouds, over sea.

Dawn through clouds; photo from pexels.com

Did you choose a special scent to wear during this eclipse, or have you done that for any other natural event, like a solstice?

Fragrance Friday: Fragrance Fantasy

Fragrance Friday: Fragrance Fantasy

For something completely unique, however, there’s Penhaligon’s Bespoke by Alberto Morillas, spearheaded by the man behind some of the world’s most recognisable scents including Calvin Klein’s CK One, Tommy Hilfiger’s Tommy and Marc Jacobs’s Daisy. Comprising eight months of trial-and-error testing and costing from £35,000, it’s a process that requires both a significant monetary and…

Oh, how I long to be able to do this, given how often I have gravitated to Penhaligon’s fragrances! Alas, it will remain nothing more than a lovely fantasy. What choices would you make, if you pursued the less expensive option of having specific bases and notes combined for you, as described in the article? I am consoling myself with a few photos from my visit to the Penhaligon’s boutique in the Burlington Arcade last fall, and a few spritzes of my beloved Blasted Bloom.

via A significant monetary and personal commitment — Now Smell This

Fragrance Friday: IKEA?

Fragrance Friday: IKEA?

Swedish retail and home furnishings phenomenon IKEA has announced that it will develop its own fragrance, with Swedish perfume-maker Byredo. ?? I’m intrigued, because I love both Byredo and IKEA, but I wouldn’t necessarily think of them together!

And although IKEA has said it won’t evoke Swedish meatballs, THAT is the smell I associate with IKEA, aside from the woody smell of the warehouse-like section where you get your own stuff off the shelves. Could that be it? Wood and dust? Plus cinnamon rolls? But IKEA made its name creating well-designed, quality, affordable home products, so I am genuinely interested to see what they do with a luxury product like Byredo fragrance.

What are your favorite fragrance partnerships, or most unusual fragrance concepts?