Wednesday, 30 March 2016

The personality of scent, essence or armour?

Have you ever considered how your choice of fragrance reflects your personality?

Marketing folk certainly do. There’s a reason why the sultry young Jerry Hall was once chosen to front YSL’s most exotic and decadent scent – Opium. Hall was the epitome of edgy glamour, spandex clad lover of Roxy Music’s Bryan Ferry - uber-groupie. She led the life that we could picture only in the most vivid corners of our imagination, far away from the reality of trudging down a grimy high street to our local branch of Boots to pick up a relatively cheap bottle of (albeit wonderful) mass market scent.

From Bryan Ferry to Murdoch, oh Jerry!

This raises a question. Do we choose our scents to complement who we are or who we aspire to be?

I recently revisited one of my favourite scents, Antonia by Pure Distance. Reviewed back in 2015, my first experience of Antonia moved me. It felt like as if it had been created just for me. I described it thus:

Antonia is a floral of cool intentions. She is an ivy draped ethereal character who conjures a rain sodden landscape of picturesque melancholy. Sap fuelled green florals are my favourite genre, capable of summoning the outdoors in, they evoke in me an otherworldly serenity that belongs far away from my urban life. Opening with the vivid green bite of galbanum, Antonia is uplifting and spiritual depicting spring’s abundant fertility in full force.”

Cool atmospheres and outdoorsy notes dominate many of my favourite scents. I feel both serenity and invigoration in earth goddess whiffs. The forest ritual lure of Ormonde Jayne’s Woman, the mountain stream chill of Clinique’s Wrappings and the mossy earthiness of Guerlain’s notorious Mitsouko, they all echo the experience of existing deep in the countryside.
Holman Hunt captures the rural Idyll 

Nowadays I’m a city dweller, living on the edge of Manchester’s central district, I neither see nor smell trees. The view from my flat features fashionable living in converted Victorian mills, immaculately dressed young urbanites heading off to long hours in offices and a brashly plastic looking tram stop. However, my childhood was one of wellies, cowpats and nature books. I led the country life and I can probably identify most things you’d find in a hedgerow. It’s likely that my passion for outdoorsy scents is filling a gap. Essentially, Antonia and her similarly green friends are taking me home. I’m aspiring to be me. 

Joseph models the view from my window

However, sometimes I need ‘not to be me’. And in those instances, I dress myself up in an alter ego. I am not, not will ever manage to be, a cool and calculating type. I am the polar opposite of a Hitchcock Blonde. There are times in your life when you could benefit from having a personality different to your own.  And right now, I need to be someone else.

I’m currently in the middle of a house purchase. The complexities of this transaction have been stressful. I’m far too passionate and direct to handle the process with the sort of cool and detached businesslike approach required to out-swim the shark-infested system.

One particularly bitey shark is the estate agent. A few weeks ago I had to visit her office to provide mortgage documents. After some testing encounters on the phone, I’d envisioned her as heavily made up with cartoon eyebrows and an air of someone who could throw a good punch in a pub. In reality, I’d got the image spot on. In preparation for our meeting I selected tailored black clothes, properly blow dried hair and ‘business bitch’ perfume. I was masquerading as someone else, someone capable of making a huge financial investment with success. Not, my techni-colour print clad, wonky haired and kindly self. My scent of choice was the Lanvin classic – Arpege. Nothing implies control more than a stern floral aldehyde.


It didn’t work. I’m still haggling my way through the complications of buying a very old house. But at least I felt protected by my formidable scented armour for one day.  If I ever get there, I will be returning to the wilds of the Yorkshire Moors. Perhaps I shall rename myself Antonia?

Saturday, 2 January 2016

Joseph, the beginning of a furry scented love affair



 Joseph peeps from the dizzying elevation of the kitchen cupboard

You may have noticed the absence of a Christmas post at Odiferess in 2015. Not even a measly seasonal greeting. I apologise profusely. You see, just before Christmas, my ordinarily calm existence was delightfully disrupted by the arrival of a new and wonderful friend – Joseph Cat. Perfume was far from my thoughts.



Joseph was an inmate at Manchester’s Millstream Animal Shelter, a charity that re-homes pets and provides life long care for the more feral creatures that are unlikely to find a loving human.

Joseph however is dead easy to love. In similarity to the other males I have adored, he's a curious type, a keen adventurer and a tad complicated. He doesn’t particularly like me hanging out with other men, despite those that he’s met so far being either related to me or gay. For the moment, we snooze together in a middle-aged stereotype of cat besotted woman, (plucked) Italian wool blankets and spoilt cat.

The centre of my bed, stolen

My perfume habits have been restricted as I try and get him used to ‘my smell’. At night, I have worn nothing, not even my beloved blends of essential oil remedies that I used to slather over my hands in bed. In the daytime I wear my most cat-like scent. A miniature bottle of Serge Lutens Clair de Musc which has always reminded me the scent of feline fur.  He seems to like it.

Joseph unsurprisingly smells like a cat. A subtle whiff that is barely discernible, given his excellent licking skills and cleanliness bordering on the neurotic. He frequently sleeps next to my face. I gave up trying to keep my pillows cat free about 3 nights in when the joy of being close to this purring pile of affection outweighed the hassle of having to launder my bed linen more frequently. On these wondrous slumbers, I bury my nose into his belly and inhale his smell. The sensation is one of warmth, closest in my memory to the smell of extreme heat on sand and dry stone experienced in the deserts of Oman. A very slight sourness is detectable, not unpleasant, but similar to a trace of fresh human sweat at the point before it stales. Whatever pheromones are contained within Joseph’s fur have an overwhelming effect on me. I’m fiercely in love and feel an urge to protect and nurture him, despite the fact that, as a cat, he won’t love me back with the same unconditional adoration!

Friends in perfume land played a role in influencing me to adopt a pet. Their blogs and Facebook feeds bombarded me with images of beloved companions. Vanessa of Bonkers About Perfume recently adopted the girliest pretty kitten on the internet, Truffle Bonkers


Truffle perfects the calendar kitten pose

Liz of Papillon Artisan Perfumes added to her gargantuan menagerie with the arrival of stud muffin Bengal ‘Baby Boy’ who rapidly impregnated Mimi with a litter of exotically spotted kittens (lucky Mimi).  Jicky, her elder feline sister must surely be feeling envious.

Baby Boy (there are more seductive photos of this handsome boy but I adore his squeezable nose in this shot).


It takes a lot of style to live up to a Guerlain inspired name, Jicky has oodles of it.

Undina’s beautiful ginger Rusty has long graced her perfume photos with a whimsical pose adding a uniquely personal touch to her blog. Cats are not known for looking 'kind' but somehow Rusty looks like a compassionate cat. I adore him. Whilst Gaspard, an elegant and comically spooksome black cat not unlike my own Joseph, resides with the equally elegant Alex, AKA The Silver Fox. Gaspard is king of the wild eyed pounce pose.

Undina's Rusty, perfume PR pussy

Gaspard, peek-a-boo 

Perhaps the most photogenic pets belong to my first and greatest perfume buddy, Saskia. Lubbe and Lano are her much photographed Weimaraners who reside with her in the Netherlands. Some years ago she likened one of them to handsome indie perfumer Kilian Hennessey, I think the likeness is detectable in the cheekbones and lithe figure. 


How to look oddly human, Weimaraner style

Perhaps the most famous pet in perfume land, is the black cat featured in the notorious 1960s adverts for My Sin by Lanvin. They chose to feature a moggy rather than a long limbed Oriental or a pampered Persian, a feline symbol of luxury. Maybe it's because this tough looking black cat represents the dangerous life of the street cat, hinting at the perfume's ability to render it's wearer feral and vicarious?



Thank you to my perfume friends for allowing me to use their fantastically characterful photographs.

If you know anyone in the North of England hoping to adopt a pet, please do consider a visit to Millstream Animal Shelter. They are reliant on donations and the hard work of volunteers to provide a safe space for some very vulnerable animals. 

Coming up at Odiferess this year, I have a stash of posts in planning for your consumption. The first of which will explore the concept of 'wearability' and discuss two scents that are impossible not to love, regardless of your tastes. I look forward my fourth year of getting to know my readers all around the world and I wish you a wonderful 2016 full of love and perfume.

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Tuesday, 8 December 2015

Christmas themes from The Library of Fragrance: Mistletoe, Frankincense and Christmas in New York






 

How’s your Christmas shopping going?

Here in Manchester, the city is awash with it’s usual gaggle of frantic shoppers, many of whom have taken advantage of big discounts in department stores. I myself was almost seduced by the reduced as Selfridges dropped it’s prices on Amouage and Robert Piguet. A whopping great car insurance bill enabled me to be sensibly frugal though. This Christmas I shall be driving along (safely insured) in my existing scent wardrobe, with the last few drops of the seasonally pine scented Fille en Aiguilles reserved for the big day.

Frugality has inspired this post.

At £15 a bottle, The Library of Fragrance (Demeter in the USA), sell a set of Christmas themed eau de colognes that would make for a quirkily stuffed stocking.  Feature here are Mistletoe, Frankincense and Christmas in New York.



The Library of Fragrance's scents are minimal. In a similar style to Jo Malone or Shay and Blue, they are (predominantly) single note scents designed for layering. They don’t have a pyramid of notes, they simply are what they say on the bottle.

Frankincense however, doesn’t smell exactly like frankincense, which annoyingly disproves my last point! Natural frankincense (Boswellia Carterii) is a sharp and penetrating whiff reminiscent of church incense. It’s oddly smokey and sparkly concurrently, a most peculiar sensation, which tends to initiate a gargantuan headache if I burn the essential oil in my apartment. 

Frankincense resin

In The Library of Fragrance’s Frankincense, the aggressive nature of the natural essence has been toned down with evidence of it’s namesake being most apparent in the vibrant first squirt of the opening. Instead, a sensation of amber oozes throughout, a soft vanillary custard with just a hint of smokey labdanum to darken the desert. This is essentially a ‘gourmand frankincense’, ideal for those who desire an exotic oriental with an indie vibe. It’s rather lovely.

Christmas in New York replicates the gourmand theme. It smells of cinnamon, vanilla and apples. I accidently wiped some onto my top lip a few seconds ago, an action I deeply regret as I do not like the bluergh-esque whiff of cinnamon, vanilla and apples. Those of you who adore densely sweet and lush gourmands will swoon at this scent. I’m off to the bathroom to try and get it off with Clinique’s Clarifying Lotion (otherwise known as scent destroyer).

Distinctly ‘more me’ is Mistletoe, which is basically just a bottle of green vegetal sap. At this time of year, I crave vegetal green sap. Regular readers will be aware of my seasonal slump and know that my morale sinks fathoms when darkness falls so early in the afternoon. I’m not a winter person, I’m a spring baby who needs to be shone upon in order to sustain functional mental health. Mistletoe hints at regeneration, sticky new buds and the joy of a late winter sun warming your face as you take your first long country walk of the new year.  It’s immensely joyful. An antedote to darkness. It’s no wonder that it’s reputed to be lucky to kiss underneath this prettily parasitic plant (and woeful if you refuse).

A Victorian lurker

Mistletoe’s ‘green’ scent shares similarities with lily of the valley. Indeed the scent is slightly reminiscent of the drydown of Caron’s historic 1st of May celebratory fragrance – Muguet de Bonheur, particularly in it’s astringent and anisic qualities. Add to this a general watery green quality with notions of cucumber, broken plant stems or savory celery and you have an idea of this eau de cologne’s effect.

Further info on the scents can be found at: http://thelibraryoffragrance.com.

You might also like to take a peep at a previous seasonal post on scents that smell like Christmas trees.

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Wednesday, 21 October 2015

Aromatherapy recipes to banish the gothic horrors of Autumn




 Ivon Hitchen, 'Autumn', 1941


I almost got there, Autumn half term that is. Every year I never quite fulfill eight weeks of teaching without falling quarry to some vile change of season/oozing child bug. Just 3 days before I break up for half term and I’m sick with a throat the colour of an overripe Persian pomegranate and a doddering demeanor. I blame Autumn, after all it is the season of vegetal death and loss of light. Unless you live in Technicolor New England, it’s rubbish.

With this in mind, I’m going to share my favourite aromatherapy recipes for the season. Some feel medicinal and others deliciously decadent.  All recipes are for 20 ml, a small portion for sampling.

Autumn mist defying anti-frizz hair oil:

10 mls Golden Cold Pressed Jojoba carrier oil
10 mls Argan carrier oil
10 drops of essential oils of your choice. I like a fresh barbershop vibe in a hair oil so I use:
5 drops High Altitude Lavender + 5 drops Neroli

Uses – You can massage a generous amount into your hair and scalp half an hour before washing as a deep conditioning treatment. This essential oil combination has excellent antibacterial and soothing qualities for an irritated scalp. After blow drying, apply a small amount as a serum to the mid lengths and ends to add shine and anti-humidity protection. Additionally, you can massage it into the nail bed to strengthen the nails and even shave or condition your beard with it. 

Man-flu bath oil (an invigorating, de-congesting and anti-bacterial blend for poorly times) 5 to 10 ml dose per bath

20 mls Fractionated Coconut oil (disperses in water unlike some carriers)
4 drops Peppermint
4 drops Rosemary
4 drops Tea Tree

Lie in the bath, read Vogue/GQ. Enjoy.

The Tea Tree plant - Nature's cure all wonder

Staying in on a cold wet night posh oil for face, hands, morale and libido

10 mls Golden Cold Pressed Jojoba carrier oil
10 mls Rosehip carrier oil
2 drops Jasmine Absolute
2 drops Rose Absolute (I prefer Damascena to Centifolia)
1 drop Neroli

This is an expensive elixir, but not nearly as expensive as a night out. There - I’ve enabled you. 
These powerful absolutes are known for being deeply comforting, anti-depressant, uplifting and sensuous. Perfect for making you feel serene and perhaps a tad more frisky after a long day. I use this as a facial massage oil and take great pleasure in doing the routine whilst listening to Bach’s Cello Concertos. This excellent video on Youtube will teach you how to do it effectively:


I also use a Jasmine, Rose and Neroli combo neat as an aroma-therapeutic perfume if I’m feeling low. Neat skin application is not recommended (I’m not recommending it) but I expect it’s not as dangerous as crack cocaine or gin.

Heartthrob Guerlain Perfumer Thierry Wasser raises his libido by sniffing some Rosa Damascena (any excuse)

Hurry up Christmas room fragrancing essential oils

Using a burner (I like a standard tea light ceramic model), try these oils to get in the festive spirit:

Hemlock or Black Spruce (on it’s own) – of all the coniferous plants, Spruce is the most evocative Christmas tree smell, you’ll love this if you wear Ormonde Jayne Woman or Man.

Mulled spice oil:

1 drop Bay Leaf
1 drop Cinnamon Leaf
2 drops sweet or blood orange


Practical tips and sensible bits for newbies:

Although I love many inexpensive perfumes, I don’t recommend buying cheap aromatherapy supplies. In this instance, you get what you pay for. Cheap absolutes in particular are often awash with solvents that have not been removed properly after the extraction process and are often cut with cheaper synthetic substances. Yuk. Buy from a reputable supplier, not some charlatan offering it half price on Ebay.

As a general guide, you can use essential oils at around a 5% dilution on the body and 2% on the face. I stick to this rule on my sensitive facial skin and when making remedies for other people. However, I use whopping great doses in my personal use bath and body products and it hasn’t killed me yet.

Longevity – Essential oils don’t perish for a very long time (apart from some citruses). Carrier oils do. Jojoba oil is a superb natural preservative meaning that blends made with Jojoba don’t require any additions. You can mix it with cheaper carrier oils such as Sweet Almond or Grapeseed to make large quantities for the body. A 1% dose of Wheatgerm oil will extend the life of anything else.

Essential oils are powerful medicines, some of which can be dangerous. Aromatherapy expert – Julia Lawless wrote two superb books which are great for beginners to gain a good level of both safety and aroma-therapeutic knowledge. These are:

The Complete Illustrated Guide to Aromatherapy - the best for beginners, including lots of tips about making your own medicinal and cosmetic preparations and a chapter about the psycho- aromatherapy and it’s application to perfumery.
And
The Encyclopedia of Essential Oils - an essential reference for anyone who has been seduced by exotic and rare oils used in perfumery, includes lots of information about how to avoid irritation and brain damage (Wormwood, that’s you I’m referring to). An excellent book for those with some existing knowledge wishing to extend their oil collection.

The recipes in this are unlikely to cause any reactions, but as with all aromatherapy products exercise caution or avoid if you are up the duff and check the encyclopedia for contra-indications if you have a serious medical condition.

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Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Review: Clarins - Eau Dynamisante, my eldest fragrant friend.




This Saturday was probably some sort of scented anniversary. I say ‘probably’ as I’m being a bit over-romantic - I think it’s roughly the 25 year anniversary of the onset of my dependable and satisfying relationship with Clarins' stalwart scent - Eau Dynamisante. It has lasted longer than any of my relationships with men and seen me through life stages of goth, shoegazer, raver, art school libertine, festival queen, indie kid, grown up indie kid and whatever hybrid of nonsense I am now.

I marked it by buying yet another bargainous bottle.

What makes it’s so worthy of commitment? To me, it possesses all the qualities of a traditional European eau de cologne. It offers abounding refreshment (alike most lemony colognes) but has the addition of a whopping whiff of personality, a grand charisma far beyond what you would expect from something generally squirted to offer relief from heat or fatigue.

Clarins describe it as a ‘treatment fragrance’;

Aromatic essential oils with treatment properties (Lemon, Patchouli, White Thyme, Petit Grain and Rosemary): scent, promote a wonderful feeling of freshness, vitality and well-being”

It’s true. It does. What they neglect to say is that it also offers a sense of exoticism, enabled by truly spicy elements of cardamom, carnation and coriander seed, which make it feel extraordinarily warm after the initial lemony blast dissipates. In fact it’s almost oriental, a kind of schizophrenic scent borrowing from several genres; the earthy dry patchouli offers a serious chypre quality, the spices a heady oriental nuance, and a citrus herbal blend reminiscent of a historic eau de cologne in the manner of Guerlain or Roger and Gallet. This multifaceted feel renders it a more riotous experience than the rather medicinal marketing bumph implies.

The original invigorating eau de cologne, Jean Marie Farina

What is curious about this scent is that very few menfolk wear it. Although often criticised for being ‘too masculine’, it remains firmly in the female domain. I assume that its sales point is the problem. It takes a brave man to approach the department store Clarin’s counter. Whilst us females happily play amongst the lotions and lipsticks, comfortable in a world of feminine luxury, men can often feel a bit shifty. I’ve seen it in action. Whilst shopping with boyfriends I’ve hurried my purchases to reduce the inevitable uncomfortable bloke syndrome. I don’t understand why they fail to feel the lure of sticking their fingers in a sample pot of cream and instead stand at least a good 3 feet away from the counter looking nervous. It’s as if touching a product will make their manhood shrink (possibly permanently).

Fountain of fearsome girliness

If you can get over the fear boys, please do go and take a whiff next time you find yourself in a department store. If you adore the Blue Acqua di Parma range or the Guerlain Eau de Colognes, you might be quite smitten with Eau Dynamisante. The only negative is that (alike most citrus rich colognes) it doesn’t emit its grandness for more than a couple of hours, so if you require a long lasting scent this is the wrong genre for you. However, a gift set with shower gel, body lotion and 100 ml of fragrance costs just £32 so you can layer the products to give it a bit more tenacity.

Maybe the act of making my boyfriends accompany me to Clarins counters could be the reason why Eau Dynamisante has stayed with me for so many more years than they have. To 'Insert multiple names here', I'm sorry...




Tuesday, 25 August 2015

Jean Patou - Joy EDP, shot in the face with jasmine




An episode of The Simpsons featured a storyline where Homer decided to become an Inventor. Amongst his failed concepts was a double barrelled rifle that had been adapted to apply a full mask of make up. He shot Marge in the face with it. This is how I felt 3 hours ago in House of Fraser when I sprayed a large dose of Joy Eau de Parfum towards myself.

Joy resides amongst the group of perfumes that no longer gain a great deal of attention online, aside from a dedicated following of vintage collectors who speak lovingly of it’s decadence. It’s a shame that niche lovers neglect these Grand Dames as they offer a whopping great explosion of perfumey perfume that many of us would find delightful, especially those with an Amouage habit, a brand most certainly influenced by the immense aldehydic florals of the twentieth century. If you haven’t smelt them recently, please do get your nose around Joy, Arpege, Ma Griffe and First. I insist.

As you may know, I have recently been exploring my increasing fascination for jasmine, which both enchants and repulses me. So today I revisited Joy for a dose of the heady white monster. I sprayed with abandon and found myself agog with the intensity of this action. I was rooted to the counter for a few seconds as I experienced a great excitement and an almost instant headache. The Homer Simpson imagery was immediate, the effect of the scent being almost gunshot like – BANG! It’s perfume.



As I wandered outside, the air on the street offered some relief and diffused the fragrance, allowing me to appreciate its complexity without the migraine factor. The overwhelming feeling from Joy is that of an endless floral bombardment. They are all in there; jasmine, tuberose, lily of the valley, rose and ylang, and crikey do they smell authentic! Add to this Joy’s marginally urinous drop of civet and it becomes the archetype of glamourous perfume.

My estimated jasmine content of Joy!

If you’ve ever cooked Indian or Pakistani curries, you’ll be aware of the importance of fat. Low fat curries do not work. A big dollop of clarified butter acts as a sponge to absorb the many spices and herbs and hold their fragrance within. Within Joy, I can sense the process of enfleurage, where particularly fragile flowers are initially suspended in fat to draw out their scent. I am sure that I can smell fat, not actual fat, but the idea of a rich substance holding the fragrance together i.e. the ‘concept of enfleurage’. This has never happened to me before. It’s possible that Joy has reawakened my slightly flagging enthusiasm.

As I take a whiff of my arm now (4 hours later), I smell the perfect perfume, I'm not scattering my words lightly here, I mean it. The floral elements have quietened and the civet has merged with sandalwood to create a creamy and honeyed effect, as gentle and velveteen as the opening in loud and bombastic. Is it possible that this is the most beautiful dry down that I have ever smelt?

If I can ever get through the shock of the initial spray, I will buy this.

Last month I wrote about Salome by Papillon Artisan Perfumes. I now realise that Salome is Joy’s purple haired punky granddaughter who is currently at art school. If you would like to take a peak click here.


Monday, 27 July 2015

Papillon Artisan Perfumes - Salome, and the lure of a filthy whiff






Much has already been written about Papillon Perfumery’s latest launch – Salome. Indie superstar perfumer - Liz Moores likes bloggers (we like her very much too). And as such, the launch samples we received have already been thoroughly applauded and appreciated in virtual print. With this in mind, I’m not going to write another meticulous review. Instead I’d like to direct you to The Candy Perfume Boy’s evocative post for a superbly detailed description of how it smells. 

Me?

I’m going to talk filth.

The overriding opinion of Salome is that it smells dirty. It has been celebrated for smelling dirty. Fans of the brand have lovingly exclaimed the word ‘filth!’ in discussion comments and a great excitement has whipped up around its skankiness. But why do we actively try to smell dirty?

The presence of a ‘dirty’ note has been detected throughout the great scents of the 20th century. Traditionally, ingredients of animal origin such as castoreum (leather/cowpats), civet (piss/honey) and musk (you know what musk smells like) were used give a corporeality and strength to more easily palatable notes. As an example, a predominantly floral bouquet could present as whimsical prettiness. Add a dollop of civet to it and it loses its girlish charms and becomes a ‘grown up’ woman’s scent. Classic examples of this include Joy, Diorissimo and My Sin.

Liz left no filthy stone unturned when it came to the animal tones of Salome. Featuring both castoreum and hyraceum, she has pushed the filth about as far as it could go without it turning into the olfactory fishy pun that is ELDO’s Secretions Magnifique.

Salome is also rich in floral notes, especially the densely indolic combination of jasmine and orange blossom. My nose detects jasmine above all others. I used to be a committed jasminophobe but have found myself recently become as attracted to it as I was previously repelled. After purchasing a small bottle of Hermitage Oils’ Jasmine Absolute, I learnt to appreciate the complexity of the smell that was absent in cheaper essential oil blends. Yes, it still retains an abhorrent whiff of milk based diet nappies to me, but there is extraordinary beauty in there too. In fact, I’ve been known to dab a little on my pillow at night and fall to sleep in gag reflex-less pleasure. I’m not alone in thinking that jasmine smells shitty. Its down to a chemical constituent in the flower – indoles, molecules that are also present in human feces. If you would like to know more about them you can read an early Odiferess post (from my jasminophobe days) here.

So why would a perfumer want to combine these potential things of vileness in order to create beauty?

I can’t speak for the intentions of Liz here, but perhaps it’s because dirtyness is deemed sensual and clean is boring. Before a potential sexual encounter we are all likely to shower away our natural smells and replace them with a carefully chosen scent. Modern manners require purity, at least at first. But as the body biologically prepares for sex, it heats up and produces hormones. Our increased heart rate helps our skin and sex organs to radiate the scent. This makes us smell. So why not smell a bit hormonal to begin with, perhaps it could aid our powers of attraction?

I received my Salome sample in the few minutes between arriving home to dump my work bags and nipping out to see my local Doctor. Without much thought I gave myself a liberal squirt and left the apartment. Upon reaching the lift I could smell myself, a lot. I smelt distinctly pissy and far too glamourous to present myself in the surgery of my rather frumpy, pallid and somber GP. I have no idea if her sense of smell is acute, but she appeared to treat me with her usual decorum.

There’s a lot more than dirtiness going on with Salome. In fact, it’s really rather beautiful. I encourage you to read The Candy Perfume Boy's article in order to fully appreciate this naughty whiff. You may also like to read my post on another scent in the Papillon line up. One that truly seduced me, the leathery delight that is Anubis.

I’m going to leave you with a list of some renown stinkers to enable you to seek out comparative filth for your delight:

My pretty little Avon 'pissycat' - A vintage bottle of Occur

Stinkers that please me:

Carven – Ma Griffe (An old fashioned aldehyde white floral with more than a hint of urine. I wore this to a wedding a couple of years ago and felt elegant and otherworldly).

Roja Dove – Enigma Pour Homme (I’m typing through gritted teeth due to the ridiculous price point of this scent but it’s a stunner. Again, a urinous whiff, this time with a wodge of honeyed cognac which adds to the dirtiness).

Avon – Occur (Discontinued many years but the white milk glass collector’s bottles have often kept the vintages alive. Another honey and urine combo with the addition of fabulous banned nitromusks). You can read my review here.

Elvis Presley's actual pants, auctioned a few years ago in Stockport, United Kingdom.

Stinkers of the very worst olfactory nightmares:

Etat Libre D’ Orange – Secretions Magnifique (watch Katie Puckrick’s hilarious video for your likely response).

Etat Libre D’ Orange – Jasmine et Cigarette (What it says on the tin. Cold, dry and vile, and I like cigs).

Parfum D’ Empire – Musc Tonkin (A terrifyingly disgusting creation from one of my favourite brands. I sprayed my sample during a work lunch break and spent the next hour worrying that a person in my vicinity had soiled themselves. It manages to smell of both wee and poo concurrently).

Kiehl’s – Orginal Musk (Sweet floral watery nappies. Somehow both subtle and repulsive, perhaps it’s the ‘light’ water effect that makes the muskiness so unpleasant to me).

Do you have a beloved or feared dirty scent? I’d love to hear about it, and indeed your opinion on why filth scents are popular.