In a feeble attempt to control my fragrance hobby, I signed up for the Scentbird subscription service, which sends subscribers a sprayer with about .27 oz. of a fragrance you select from among their offerings. You can pre-select several months’ worth at a time, and the monthly charge is $14.95. My first delivery arrived yesterday. It is Arquiste’s Flor y Canto, a fragrance that sounded as if I would like it very much, but which is VERY expensive, so a size less than a full bottle is warranted.
Reader, I loved it. Fragrantica lists its notes as: Mexican Tuberose, Magnolia, Frangipani and Marigold; Arquiste lists the notes with plumeria instead of frangipani; they are the same flower, often used in leis. Created by perfumer Rodrigo Flores-Roux, Flor y Canto made its debut in 2012; its name means “flower and song”. It opens with a lemony greenness that I associate with magnolia. I seem to smell that more than I smell tuberose, but there is definitely a creamy white flower lurking behind the magnolia. The Arquiste website says:
On the most fragrant festival in the Aztec calendar, the rhythm of drums palpitates as a wealth of flowers is offered on temple altars. Billowing clouds of Copal act as a backdrop to the intoxicating breath of Tuberose, Magnolia, Plumeria and the intensely yellow aroma of the sacred Marigold, Cempoalxochitl.
The Mexican marigold is also locally called the Flower of the Dead, because it is traditionally used to decorate altars in Oaxaca, Mexico on the Day of the Dead (or “Dia de los Muertos”) in early November, and also used in the past to form garlands for the worship of Aztec gods. Flor y Canto, however, is meant to evoke a summer festival in the ancient Aztec city of Tenochtitlan, the religious and political capital of the Aztec civilization. It was destroyed eventually by the Spanish conquistadors in the 16th century, according to the Ancient History Encyclopedia, but apparently it was so remarkable and beautiful, with its towers, canals, and floating gardens, that the Spanish chroniclers left very detailed descriptions of the city. There is even a surviving Nahuatl poem about it:
The city is spread out in circles of jade,
radiating flashes of light like quetzal plumes,
Besides it the lords are borne in boats:
over them extends flowery mist.
Quetzal bird in flight; photo from Mexico News Daily
“Flowery mist” is an apt description of Flor y Canto. It is purely floral with a slightly green, fresh note like fragrant leaves or the marigold flowers. This is a creative and effective use of marigold; its astringency cuts the sweetness of the white flowers and enhances them. It is much lighter and greener than the image at the top of this post, from the Arquiste website, suggests.
Tenochtitlan and its sacred precinct were also the site of human sacrifices to the Aztec deities; one is thankful that Arquiste chose NOT to evoke those in the fragrance itself in spite of the reference to death and altars in their illustration. Flor y Canto is an elegant, soft, summery floral. It wafts gently from one’s wrists without overwhelming. Bravo, Arquiste and M. Flores-Roux!
Featured image from http://www.arquiste.com
Readers of The Economist and jaundiced realists like myself will not be surprised to hear that diversity and competition are the engines of creation. Add to that the magic element of surplus, i.e. a surfeit of talented art school graduates chasing too few jobs, and you have the makings of a revolution. This is precisely what happened in postwar Italy: too many architects + too few interesting things to build = Italian Design. A similar thing may be happening in perfumery, thanks to the Web and despite the insane restrictions on the shipping of “dangerous” goods.
Serenity Now Scents and Sensibilities 