February 20, 2023 by Old Herbaceous

Counterpoint: Chanel No. 5

Welcome to a new feature that I hope will appear monthly! 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 in 2023. 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; our first Note was oakmoss. 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 Chanel No. 5.

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January 20, 2023 by Old Herbaceous

Perfume Chat Room, January 20

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, January 20, and my big fragrance excitement this week was that Portia Turbo (Australian Perfume Junkies) and I launched our second blogging collaboration, “Counterpoint.” (The first one was “Notes on Notes“). Our first Counterpoint subject was Mitsouko; our first “Notes on Notes” was about oakmoss. We hope to do one of each of these monthly, on the first and third Monday of the month, so wish us luck and please join us in the comments!

Our next “Notes on Notes” will be about vetiver; if you have any particular fragrances to suggest we include in our selection, please tell us in the comments below! And our next “Counterpoint” fragrance will be Chanel No. 5 in as many of its forms and versions as we can muster.

Thanks for joining us on this journey!

May 9, 2021 by Old Herbaceous

May Melange Marathon: Mother’s Day and No. 5

Today is Mother’s Day in the US, and I’m thinking of my own late mother and the perfume I associate most with her, Chanel No.5. No.5 is 100 years old this year, having been launched by the house of Chanel in 1921, which hardly seems possible! Here is the wonderful video Chanel released this year to celebrate No.5‘s centennial:

The version I have is the eau de toilette; in fact, it is the last bottle of No.5 that my mother owned. I brought it home with me, with its few ml of fragrance left, after her funeral and clearing out her home. Wearing a few drops now on the back of my hand, I can still smell how beautiful it is, and think peacefully of my mom.

I wrote about her and No.5 five years ago, in “My Mother’s Last Perfume“. She died in May of 2017; if she were still alive, she would be turning 90 this year — only ten years younger than No.5! We held her memorial service in July of 2017, so that all members of the family could be there, and a memory I find very consoling is that I took charge of working with the florist for the church service. I used to help my mother arrange flowers as part of the church’s “Flower Guild”, a volunteer role that she took very seriously, albeit with some humor. She loved to recount how long it took her to win the approval of the older women in the Flower Guild when she first wanted to join, in spite of her being a member of the church’s vestry! They only let her cut off the ends of stems and hand them the flowers for months.

Because of those companionable times we spent together arranging flowers, I knew her strong likes and dislikes — I don’t think my mom had any likes or dislikes that were anything but strong. I remember telling the florist that we could not have gladioli under any circumstances, because my mom hated them with a passion and she would return from the grave to haunt us all if we had them at her memorial. I was so pleased with our final selections: the roses and lilies she loved; Bells of Ireland, to recall her Anglo-Irish roots and her beloved aunts and grandmother, with whom she spent school holidays; eucalyptus as a reference to her birthplace of New Zealand; and other fragrant flowers, some of which are notes in No.5.

Because I started buying her No.5 in the 1970s, as a child, the version I recall most has the original notes (though I think by then the civet was synthetic): top notes of Aldehydes, Ylang-Ylang, Neroli, Amalfi Lemon and Bergamot; middle notes of Iris, Jasmine, Rose, Orris Root and Lily-of-the-Valley; base notes of Civet, Sandalwood, Musk, Oakmoss, Vetiver, Amber, Vanilla and Patchouli. I’m not sure of the date of the eau de toilette of hers I now have, but it’s probably from the early 2000s. And after an initial “off” opening, it is just lovely.

The aldehydes have survived the passage of time, as have the ylang-ylang and much of the neroli. Lemon and bergamot are no longer detectable. The notes of jasmine and rose are most prominent to my nose in the heart phase, with a gorgeous powdery softness provided by the iris and orris root. I can detect the lily-of-the-valley faintly, but just barely. The drydown is also lovely: it just keeps getting warmer, softer, and sexier, with those beautiful base notes. As many have noted, No. 5 is so well-blended, it is almost abstract. While it is possible to detect single notes, the overall impression is not of a particular flower, which is what perfumer Ernest Beaux and Mme. Chanel intended. No.5 is simply itself, and it is unmistakable to this day.

I don’t often wear No.5, as beautiful as it is, because I do associate it so much with my mom; but I use and love No.5 Eau Premiere as well as No.5 L’Eau. Blogger Neil Chapman of The Black Narcissus described the trio so well in his book “Perfume: In Search of Your Signature Scent” (which I highly, highly recommend!):

Chanel’s enduring, glamorous icon is a scintillation of aldehydes, rose de mai, ylang ylang, orris, jasmine and vanilla (among many other ingredients) — a caress of timeless, confident femininity…. Successful recent reiterations of the No.5 brand that aim to appeal to the younger consumer include Eau Premiere (2007) — which I like for its streamlined primness and muted, statuesque lightness that works convincingly as a chilled, contemporary flanker of the original — and No.5 L’Eau in 2016, which smells as peachy and rosy as the dawn.

I can’t think of another perfume that has had the famous Any Warhol portrait treatment, can you? Do you like No.5, in any of its current versions or flankers? And happy Mother’s Day to all who are celebrating it today!

Bottles of Chanel No.5 perfume by Andy Warhol — Chanel No.5 portraits by Andy Warhol; image from Fragrantica.com.

August 25, 2017 by Old Herbaceous

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?

March 21, 2017 by Old Herbaceous

My Mother’s Last Perfume

Re-posting this in honor of National Fragrance Day, as the Fragrance Foundation has suggested sharing one’s most poignant scent memories. My poor mother is still with us and still in her own home, but her condition has declined even further.

My mother is slowly dying. It is sad but acceptable, given that she is in her mid-80s and suffered a major stroke more than two years ago. She has been able to stay in her own home, cared for by a live-in aide who has become a much-appreciated member of the family “team.” Now my mother also gets hospice care in her home and she is bedridden. She is emaciated, as she only drinks protein shakes and water. Most of her medications have been discontinued, because trying to swallow pills came to cause her so much distress. She would be mortified to know her present condition, as she was always a proud woman who valued autonomy above almost anything else. She had always hoped that her unhealthy heart would fell her instantly, without any fuss, after she was no longer able to enjoy what she called her “adventures.” My mother loved to travel to exotic places, with or without my father (who died several years ago).

In her younger days, my mother also loved glamour, and parties, and dressing up. She had an eye for fashion and was a striking woman herself: tall, with white Irish skin and startling blue eyes under dark eyebrows and hair that was such a dark brown it looked black. An early memory of mine is of sitting on my parents’ bed, watching her do her hair and make up at a vanity, or what we called her “dressing table.” It was a ritual; and part of that ritual was the finishing flourish of Chanel No. 5.

My parents’ marriage was not always a happy one, though it lasted more than 50 years and only ended with my father’s death when he was almost 90. My mother was never cut out to be a suburban housewife, yet the part of her that craved security sought out that life and chose to stay in it. She was, indeed, very like the creation of Rudyard Kipling to which she frequently compared herself: The Cat that Walked by Himself, or as she said, “the Cat that walked alone.” She sought out creature comfort and made for herself (and us) a pleasing home, but there was always part of her that withheld itself. As a child, I often tried to make my mother feel happier, though I now realize that much of her unhappiness was due to exaggerated expectations on her part of how her life should have unfolded.

One way I tried to make her happy was to save my small allowance to offer her gifts: special gifts, the kind I thought my father should give her more often. More than once, that gift was some form of Chanel No. 5. I remember offering Chanel talcum powder; and once, the smallest size of spray cologne, as that was all I could afford. She was, in fact, delighted by these offerings and made a point of using them when I was around to see that she loved and appreciated them. My mother was in many ways a self-centered woman but she loved us as much as she was able to, given her own loveless childhood.

So now, as she lies slowly dying — a process that could sadly take many more weeks or even months — I occasionally “borrow” a spritz from her last spray bottle of Chanel No. 5 eau de toilette. I think I may have given it to her some time in the last decade; I just don’t remember. But I do remember the fragrance, and her bottle pre-dates the 2013 reformulation. It hasn’t been carefully preserved — it sat out on a shelf in her sunny bathroom for years. So the top notes are a little “off”, but it quickly settles onto one’s skin with powdery, warm, heady florals. Smelling it, I can recall the vibrant, restless, beautiful woman my mother once was. It really is a lovely scent, though I would never choose to wear it regularly as my own perfume, given its long association with my mother.

Sadly, she no longer enjoys it. On one of my visits during this latest phase of her long decline, I thought she might like to smell it again, as she was always hyper-alert to smells, so I applied a bit to my own wrist and held it close so she could smell it. She wrinkled her nose and said to the room, “What is that awful smell?”. So I haven’t offered it again; instead, I bring her pots of live hyacinths, which she has long loved and still enjoys. My father, an avid amateur gardener, used to please her by potting up dozens of hyacinth bulbs for forcing indoors every winter, when their perfume would fill entire rooms.

My mother slips in and out of awareness these days, and I’m not always sure she knows I am there, but when I brought her the latest hyacinths and held the pot of blossoms close to her, she inhaled their fragrance, smiled and said, “Lovely!”. It still matters to me to try to make my mother happy, even at this indeterminate, shadowy end.