On juice running down your chin

Every once in a while I am reminded of a conversation I had with my father years ago. It was about strawberries.

Actually, buying strawberries where we lived in Brooklyn, New York. I believe I was bemoaning some tasteless, rather card-board-textured things I had bought in a local supermarket. This set him off on a reminiscence about a trip he and my mum had taken years back to some place in southern Europe with a stupendous local market. "You see," he said, "your strawberries probably came from California ... or maybe Florida ... where they were picked too early, bundled with a whole load of other unripe berries and sent on a cross-country journey, arriving where you bought them barely any riper and probably a bit ill from temperature changes and being jumbled around on the journey. So, not surprising they don't smell like much. Now, the berries from the market in ___, those were strawberries!"

A recent post (see 23 June) on Persolaise's blog, www.makingscent.blogspot.com (Persolaise -- A Perfumer's Blog), had me right back there in this conversation with my father. Persolaise bemoans the fact that you smell next to nothing when shopping in the fruit/veg section of his local supermarket and this was a real shame. I agree.

I don't use my local Waitrose for my fruit and veg needs much any longer. Rather, the local stand, next to the post office, or the farmers' market in Queens Park are my destinations of choice. And, ya know, everything smells (and I do mean good) at these places.

At the post office stand -- in particular if it's Tuesday and you have to wait outside until 9:30 to get in -- you get the fruit mostly: a luscious combo, at the moment, of slightly aquatic, musky melon, lush peaches, and juicy cherries. Sometimes the heady, almost floral, scent of mango gets thrown in too.

At the market, it's more veg-natured smells: sharp, though still musky, tomatoes; earthy potatoes; various lettuces and a lot of basil plants this time of year.

This type of shopping is more time-consuming than a visit to the local supermarket, but it is also much more rewarding, and not only in the fragrance department. Most things are loose (rather than packed in plastic), so you get a better sense of what you're buying. In addition, you don't get the uniform, agri-business look of what you buy. Instead, there's some quirkiness etc.

Finally, I can hear the comment "and it's also more expensive". Well, probably yes when it comes to the market, but no regarding the stand. And, I can still get apples at decent prices at the latter, while the supermarket ones are really pricey.

But further on the expense issue: the price differential for the market produce isn't so great that it is prohibitive and I offset the good produce with cut-price white goods from places like Lidl and Asda. So, you can work the numbers a bit.

Last thought: If you live reasonably near a pick-your-own place, this time of year is nirvana, especially when it comes to strawberries. The smell of these places is just mind-bogglingly good. And just think of all the things you can do with what you come home with -- after an afternoon spent among the myriad of wonderful, juicy smells.

In fact, I feel a visit to Parkside Farm near Enfield coming on...

Oh, the heat -- and a short narration of pleasure

I consider the current absolutely wonderful SUMMER weather an almost adequate compensation for the horrible winter we experienced in the UK.

This past Sunday -- the hottest day so far, I think, and England playing Germany in South Africa -- a small group of us gathered for the second in what I've taken to calling Time Line fragrance presentations by Andy Tauer.

The first was spontaneous: at a brunch gathering a few days after the end-May Orange Star launch in London. Bagels, sparkling wine, and lots of chatting -- and Andy ended up doing an impromtu presentation of his fragrances, starting with Le Maroc Pour Elle and working along towards Orange Star. In the process, we got some background to the Tauer Perfumes story, some of Andy's history, the bases for the various fragrances, and some interesting side stories.

Seemed a very idea to do this again as Andy was returning to London in late June. So, we did.

Now, rather than just describe the event, I'm just going to talk about a few things that, for me, stood out from the discussion.

Andy's stories about his time in the US state of Texas. Beyond the smells, some of which made their way into the truly outstanding Lonestar Memories, there was one particular story: about having to drive round the corner to the grocery shop. This struck a chord with me, having lived for brief periods with my parents in suburban Michigan, where it is mostly impossible to walk anywhere. No pavements -- and 4-6 lane roads to cross. No wonder the term 'roadkill' originates in the States. Some parts of the US are truly truly strange.

A very amusing discussion about flankers -- and then coming up with flankers for Tauer fragrances. Fear not, there don't appear to be any plans to introduce L'Air Desert Marocain eau fraiche.

Another discussion on first fragrance owned. (This subject comes up frequently at Gatherings and is always fun and interesting, in particular the history behind the gifting or purchase.)

Someone raised the question of the size of collections, which led to some wondering about how you choose your daily fragrance if you own 250-300 bottles and decants.

And, we talked briefly about swapping and bottle splitting.

All interwoven with discussion of the various Tauer fragrances out on the table.

This brings home to me how central to my business -- and my life -- Scent Gatherings have become, and how much I've come to anticipate and enjoy the disparate experiences.

What can we expect?

The noise on the blogs is that YSL Opium, that iconic oriental, is being reformulated to fall in line with IFRA requirements. So, if it's an HG for you, maybe this is the time to stock up.

I wore Opium for a period of my life. It was never holy grail material, but I enjoyed it immensely.

An abridged notes list (per NST) is as follows: mandarin, bergamot, lily of the valley, jasmine, carnation, myrrh, vanilla, amber, sweet myrrh and patchouli. Apparently, this is just the beginning of the soup and there are/were (post the IFRA revamp) numerous other things.

I don't recall the exact smell of the Opium I had that well. But, the feel of it is easy to call up, even after many years: Big and Luscious, with absolutely the hugest sillage ever.

I remember the associated things I got up to wearing it in the 1980s: my haircut at the time, the three piercings in each ear, my makeup, the clothes I wore, the places I went wearing the fragrance.

I'm afraid I had short on top with two thin, long pieces of hair from the nape of my neck (these were frequently dyed different colours, including bright green and magenta for a while). I loved my hair this way. Waaayyy cool!

This was the only period in my life when I went out heavily made up, including black eye shadow. It was great. I even went to work that way and no one (it being the '80s) said a word. I pretty much fit in to the work vibe (and I worked at a science publishing house). The support staff did a lot of stuff together, including attending a lot of sample sales (so much fun, and I ended up with loads of great clothes cheap). I recall catching sight of myself in a mirror with black eye shadow, loads of mascara and slippery lips.

Then, there was the getting dressed. Lots of funky dresses, lots of thrift shop stuff worn with great shoes (picked up cheap at great outlets in Michigan, where my parents lived at the time). A standout was overalls (I think they're called dungarees in the UK) over a leotard. And, yup, this was ok for work. I had denim ones, white ones for summer, and I even remember a pink pair (great over a black leotard) which got worn with black gladiator sandals (wore those into the ground).

And then there was the where... Of course, I wore Opium to work. It also went to my karate class (got sweated off fairly quickly and don't recall anyone ever complaining). Best of all, it went to clubs for dancing. Discos were awesome.

So, a fond fairwell, I guess, to the incredible thick spicy vanilla-dry-down juice. You'll be missed.

Following the scented time line

To my immense pleasure (I say this a lot with regard to Tauer Perfumes) Andy Tauer is again visiting London. He'll be here at the end of June and to celebrate the occasion I'll be hosting a Scent Gathering where Andy will present the whole Tauer Perfumes range.

The Gathering takes place on Sunday, 27 June, in the late afternoon for several hours.

If you'd like to attend this very special event, please email info@scent-and-sensibility.co.uk with 'Tauer 27 June event' in the subject line.

Summer solstice

Happy first day of summer!

The weather report here is for balminess all week long. Hurrah! I am wearing Hilde Soliani Stecca today, which to me epitomizes summer garden.

I won't be growing any tomato plants this year, but the man-cub's strawberries are already outperforming, and the honeysuckle is doing serious business. My small garden space smells so awesome.

The doors are all open. If you're looking for something summery to read, I suggest Susanna Moore's The Whiteness of Bones, which is partially set in Hawaii.

Wishing you a warm and pleasurable start to one of my favourite seasons.

Bonding scent

No, I'm afraid this post isn't about Bond No 9 fragrances (although I really do plan to try Chinatown -- it's on that list...).

Rather, we're back to vampires. I've just finished the latest two books in the vampire series I am following: one of which is True Blood; the other is unmentionable. Smell is absolutely front and centre in the latter, and one of the continuing threads is the smell of the bonding scent thrown off by the male characters (the females have distinct fragrances too, but these aren't uniform, while the bonding scents for the males are all described along the same lines).

It's always 'dark spices', which made me wonder what readers might consider a good fragrance for their significant other if that is male (or on yourself if you are male, or pass on any preferences from your female partner).

I have focused on fragrances marketed as masculines in various posts since I started blogging over a year ago. I sometimes find this a more interesting genre of perfumes than feminines because I think women tend to get their scent right more of the time than do men. I guess this has to do with 1) it being more socially acceptable for women to be focused on fragrance and 2) there are just more decent women's fragrances out there.

In any case, none of my significant others over the years wore fragrance. Poor, sad me. But, of the men I have smelled over time these are the scents that have stood out head and shoulders as things I absolutely love smelling and want to smell on a man's chemistry over and over.

Santa Maria Novella Patchouli on a guy at the sadly now closed Takashimaya in New York. The combo of clean dirt smell on well-looked-after man was truly awesome.

Knize 10 and Tauer Lonestar Memories on my friend Richard. I've known Rich for over 20 years, but didn't bring him over to the dark side until several years ago. He does leathers like no one's business. Just mouthwatering.

L'Artisan Mechant Loup on some anonymous man on the London tube. Nutty, every so slightly sweet in the best sort of way. Just gorgeous.

So then, over to you.

Patchy (and not patchouli)

A lot on at the moment (but when is that not the case?). My apologies on the haphazardness of posts over the next few weeks.

The birds and my brain woke me up before 6 this morning. Just the way of things at the moment. And, I'm stuck with this earworm from a Show of Hands (google the name: they're great) song called 'Country Life'. Great song, but I hate when something lodges itself in my brain and won't move.

Thrown into the soup is the man-cub's ninth birthday tomorrow. Much ado in this house.

Oh, and I've been contemplating with increasing sadness and irritation the IFRA regs. This is for two reasons. First, a journo in last weekend's FT jumped on (late to the party) the discussion bandwagon about this (if you want more details on the changes, read back in posts on Grain de Musc, Perfume Shrine and 1000Perfumes blogs). Second, I've been in an email discussion with a customer about pre-reformulation Mitsouko, which we both adore.

But this all leads to one of my query posts. Here you go:

1. If you could have a bottle of anything from its glory days (ie, before reformulations/new regulations) what would it be (actually, you can name more than one)?

2. If you could reverse the regs on any ingredient what would it be?

3. Is there anything else you are aching to try in its original formulation?

Here are my desires:

1. Mitsouko, of course, plus (because this is dreamland) one each of Caron Bellodgia and Guerlain Djedi.

2. Oakmoss.

3.  Since I keep thinking about the cooking experiment with Shalimar, I wish for that -- vintage Shalimar perfume.

The miscellaneous of Monday

I did the Queens Park Open Gardens day yesterday -- five hours of wandering hither and thither around the Queens Park neighbourhood of London.

Great day. Weather held up (warm, but not too warm; no rain). Saw some extraordinary gardens. Some highlights were a very long one (almost 80 feet long?) cut across in the middle by a smallish tree called a contorted hazel (this is where florists get those twirly stems from) and a big Victorian house on which almost all of two sides were covered by a gorgeous pink climbing rose.

But the biggest pleasure came right at the end of the day, when we entered a garden which had a small tree with pretty white flowers on it and something called a chamomile lawn. Thing was, it wasn't only the garden: great conversation with an emigree from the US Pacific northwest, who had settled in the UK many years ago to escape Nixon and the Vietnam War (well, I would hazard a guess it was her husband who had to get out). A really nice chat and I managed to identify the much-loved tree as a dogwood.

There were clematis to appreciate and jasmine, honeysuckle and roses to smell. Virginie, my companion for the afternoon (her husband, Costes, joined us for a bit and then took the two boys off to play -- very much appreciated), managed to buy a chicory plant, which has the most extraordinary blue flowers I've seen in ages. She and Costes run a health food/organic food store (the Olive Tree on Willesden Lane, near Queens Park) and she was over the moon: apparently chicory isn't widely available and you can make an infusion from it which is very good for the liver.

There was much bending and sniffing of flowers -- and the house-owners were very forthcoming when asked about unknown plants and flowers.

There were a lot of cats to be patted too, which the boys appreciated while they were with us (most of the cats were very patient).

Then home and the Germany v Australia World Cup match. I supported Australia in a dulsatory sort of way (mostly because I like an underdog). My head has been deeply in the World Cup this time round because 1) the man-cub is actually old enough to pay attention to what's going on (to the extent that we had a long discussion about apartheid the other day) and 2) I finally have the head space as an adult to follow the games. I might even understand the offsides rule by the end of the tournament.

I am covered in the makings of various samples now and may have discovered an interesting layering combo: Tauer Lonestar Memories with IPDF Vaniglia del Madagascar. Who'd a'thunk it...

Fine cookin'

I like to cook. I like to bake too. I have some recipes from the latter activity that my mother used when I was growing up. The continuity pleases me no end. My mother was a recipe cook and baker, pretty much following things along. But, there are definitely her own tweaks in things. I sort of go the same way, like mucking about with her banana bread recipe in small ways.

I like to have the smells of cooking and baking in my home. I love the idea of the necessaries of life adding to the pleasures of it.

I find the idea of making recipes fascinating. Are chefs and bakers chemists about things when they start out or do they do things by feel? Or is it a combo of the two? Do they start out with a vision of an end or work it out as they go along?

You know where this is going.

The analogy of cooking/baking to perfumery doesn't really come up much at Scent Gathering. However, every once in a while, someone will make it and then we'll play around with the idea.

In addition, every once in a while, someone will raise the issue of naturals vs synthetics in perfumery, and the question of 'which is better'. I stand firmly in the 'mix it up' position: 1) because I've discovered I tend to have nasty skin reactions from things that call themselves 'all' or 'mostly' natural; and 2) because I think chemistry makes for better living, for lack of a better descriptive. And, there is some fascinating stuff in Chandler Burr's A Perfect Scent explaining perfume recipes and showing the actual ingredients lists. The naturals lists go on endlessly (explaining a bit why I react -- so many different chemicals for skin to react to); the lists that include aromachemicals are significantly shorter.

I've been thinking a lot about the classic Guerlains recently because my friend Maureen has been on a jag of trying classic things since she was inducted into the dark side of perfumista land several years ago.

And, there's a great story about Shalimar that fits in perfectly here -- and which I just adore for reasons I'm not quite clear on.

Apparently, Shalimar was 'born' when Jacques Guerlain was playing around with a new synthetic vanilla and decided to add some into Jicky (which has a bit of vanilla in the mix, but isn't a vanilla fragrance at all). Eureka moment, I expect. (There is a great post on this on the Perfume Shrine blog from September 2008.)

But this just get my heart going. This image of someone actually playing with fragrance, having a go at trying something new. The 'you never know' factor.

But I guess what strikes me most about this parallel regarding good cooking and great perfumery is the necessity for openness, a willingness to explore, to tinker, expand upon. I'm not saying tradition and consistency aren't important -- I value both tremendously -- but rather it's the mixing up of the known and the unknown, the old and the new that brings forth truly beautiful and interesting creations.

You see, I love Shalimar and my mother's banana bread: they are both wonderful creations. But I love them both even more because of their history and how they came to be what they are.

The merits of outer beauty and the Queens Park Open Gardens day

On a quick visit to John Lewis at Brent Cross I had hoped to sample the new L'Artisan tuberose fragrance. Alas, no. Only older fragrances are stocked. I looked around for something to test. Not much piqued my interest.

Then, I saw the small display of Hermes Voyage d'Hermes. No blotters to be found, so on skin only. Citrus. Yup, that's about it for me. It smelled nice, but made me yearn for Aqua di Parma Colonia Absoluta. So, no, this isn't a review of the fragrance itself (there's a very interesting one on NowSmellThis posted in March of this year).

However, the packaging is gorgeous. Really attractive. Which made me think about good perfume bottles -- and what a large segment of many perfume development budgets is spent on packaging.

Now, I 'get' the idea of an attractive bottle. It's wonderful to get a beautiful juice in a gorgeous, tactile object.

What I don't 'get' is a perfume marketed by its packaging. Apparently the SAs sometimes push Voyage on the basis that it is refillable -- not mentioning the juice at all. Huh?

I'm afraid that's a no go for me. I'm much more likely to live with an ugly bottle containing gorgeous perfume than the other way round. And, though I haven't had this experience, I'm not sure if I would spring for a monumentally beautiful bottle containing perfume I merely liked.

So, bottles I love (and even the perfumes within): the classic black round Lanvin Arpege; the classic Guerlain bottles for perfume (not EdP or EdT) -- I will hold on to the Mitsouko bottle I own long after the contents are used up; the new Tauer cobalt blue pentagons, which remind me of Bristol blue glass, which I also adore; the Dior different coloured Poison bottles, specifically that for Hypnotic Poison (though I don't like the Ricci apple); Serge Lutens Belle jars; Santa Maria Novella.

Bottles I feel indifferent towards (where, in some cases, I love the fragrance within): Frederic Malle (I wouldn't say no to Le Parfum de Therese); Le Labo; Chanel; Annick Goutal; Dior Eau Noire (why do they need to be so biiiigggg?); Ormonde Jayne; Serge Lutens oblong exports; Laura Tonatto; Diptyque; Amouage; Divine.

Bottles I actively dislike: the Tom Fords; the Kenzos; Lalique Encre Noire (I do love the fragrance, but the inkwell look just doesn't do it for me); the MDCIs with the heads.

________________________

Next. I wrote about the Queens Park Open Gardens day in an April 2009 post. To my pleasure, I've got deets on when it's happening this summer and I'll be going (hooray!).

Date: Sunday, 13 June
Time: 1-6 PM
Price: £6 adults, £2 children on the day (£5/£1 in advance)
Where to buy tickets: on the day, 115 Chevening Road and the Queens Park Farmers Market
Link for more info: http://www.queensparkonline.org.uk/?page_id=33

Queens Park is something of an artists' enclave in north-west London. These gardens are generally lovingly and beautifully put together. In some places, there are things for sale. You get tea and cake with the entry price.

This is a great sitch for just looking at a pretty neighbourhood, houses and gardens; getting ideas for one's own garden; and seeing some very interesting art (and being able to buy some of it).

It's supposed to be good weather on Sunday. This is well worth a visit to north-west London!

The best laid plans

This morning, just after I had finished making a cup of tea and had turned to the fridge to get out the milk, the burglar alarm went off and the lights went off. Six-fifty AM and power outage. Not what one wants to hear when one runs a website. Our and around seven other north-west London post codes were affected. Took the man-cub off to school (school not affected) and went to the post office (post office not affected). Had a really bad coffee with a friend at local cafe (which has huge, neon-coloured cakes -- and I mean bright pink and green -- and was not affected). Someone at school had said she thought power would be back on at 11 AM. I got home at 10:15 and all was back in order. Shook my head and got to work.

One positive: man-cub could not watch telly as he got dressed this AM. Instead, we looked at his travel notebooks (lingering over the ones for Paris), in which he pasted mementos, we played lots of games of hangman, and drew pictures of penguins dressed in local garb (eg, penguins in berets).

But the point of this: everything planned for the day, including a blog post, got pushed back. So, the post meant for today will appear tomorrow.

One thing I noted while out during the power outage: a woman passed me who was very carefully dressed but had on an absolutely awful perfume: sour loud floral. Couldn't work out what it was, but had an immediate desire to comment to her: "You are so well dressed. How can you be wearing such a hideous fragrance?" And hand her one of my cards.

I didn't. I would hate if someone did that to me, so I restrained myself. And thought about why she would choose such a perfume.

Yes, we've visited this issue in some manner before: there is so much out there in perfume-land that is good, but there is more that is teeth-grindingly bad. And people seem to happily buy and wear the nasty stuff as well as the sublime.

So, why choose the bad over the good? Not everyone has a very strong sense of smell -- and as with foods, one person's good is another person's nauseating. But, is there a benchmark of bad that everyone can agree on when it comes to fragrance?

I would guess not because there are terrible comments about Elizabeth Arden Red Door and people still wear it. I can't abide Gucci Rush, but Bee commented that it was great on her. Thierry Mugler Angel is a love it or hate it (I'm in the 'love it' camp). Serge Lutens' Iris Silver Mist is a metallic mess to my nose and cold rooty glory to others. I overhear (particularly) women in fragrance halls, after spraying themselves with this or that loud, bad-smelling stuff, proclaiming that this is their signature scent and isn't it wonderful? Uh, no. {enter your choice here} is decidedly not wonderful, and especially not in the amount you spray on yourself.

Luca Turin in The Guide is the champion of the nasty putdown when it comes to things he doesn't like or thinks are of poor quality. Just vicious. And I'm afraid some people take his criticisms of their faves to heart: "I adore X, but LT says it's a scrubber".

This leads me back to that woman on the street and what she might have said if I had commented that her fragrance was awful. Maybe she would have given me an earful about minding my own business (and quite rightly so). Maybe she was already having a difficult day and would have burst into tears (which would have made me feel exceptionally mean).

In truth, however, this really gets us nowhere -- or rather leaves us in 'to each his own' territory, which seems to me a cop out, but I can't find an argument against it at the moment. So, if you think of something that is really universally despised, please comment on it and maybe we can find that benchmark.

Teetering on the edge

To me, body chemistry is a key issue with regard to perfume. You can loooove something on a blotter, on paper -- or on fabric -- but it can smell awful, or banal, on you. The reason why buying unsniffed, unsampled, is anathema to me now (I did do some 'note' buying -- ie, buying something because the notes listed sounded great -- years ago, but no longer).

So, I've had the sad experience of getting a sample of something that sounds glorious only to find it just doesn't really work on me (a recent example of this is Penhaligon Amaranthine, which smells truly transporting on paper, but which teeters on the edge of teeth-grindingly bad on me (I still want some of it around because it does smell so great on paper just so I can sniff it every once in a while -- thus, procuring a sample the next time I pass a Penhaligon store).

But my focus today is perfumes that teeter -- ie, that teeter on the edge between great- and awfulness because I find this edge truly fascinating. And, it's one's body chemistry that can keep something from slipping over into that awful place.

Now, Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez note this about Theo Fennell Scent, which they view as remarkably beautiful, but when they were testing it for The Guide they wondered at one point in its development if it would fall off the gorgeous cliff into the awful abyss (my purple prose, not theirs). It didn't and on me this sits just the right side of things: it becomes quite animalic (seriously indolic), but doesn't develop an awful urinous twang.

Of the great classic Guerlains I can wear Mitsouko with ease and Shalimar is a truly wonderful lemon-waxiness that is to the right side of a honey-floor-wax combo.

However, I cannot wear L'Heure Bleue. Playdough. Licorice-scented playdough. Flat, icky licorice-vanilla playdough. No, not going there.

But on my scent-opposite, Maureen, L'Heure Bleue is what it was meant to be: teetering on the edge; night-sky magic. Gorgeous, mysterious, totally adult and totally womanly. The thing is that teetering: on her, it sits on the knife-edge at the right-side of licorice-vanilla playdough, meaning its smell is very beautiful but with the slight oddness that real serious beauty requires. It translates the look and feel of the colour deep smoky slate blue into fragrance.

It is that teetering -- that so close to no but ultimately defiantly yes -- that sends this into monumentally special territory.

So, it's always worth trying something on skin because although much of the time the fragrance will be bad, indifferent, good or gorgeous, every once in a slate blue moon you'll get something so special it will cause you to stand stock still in wonder or cry out or make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. And that just shouldn't be missed.

A little calmer

The two weeks of absolutely manic activity have come to a close. First, I had the prep for the Orange Star launch, did the launch itself (on 28 May) plus a Scent Gathering on the 30th (loads of help for the launch and Gathering from Rich, Maur and Jan -- huge thanks). Then, I rolled right over into half term and my father visiting with us from New York, on his way to Turkey (not bad for an 80-something-year old, huh...).

Bopping from activity to activity until 3:30 AM this morning, when he left for his flight to Istanbul at Heathrow. We did the London Eye yesterday. Great fun, though a bit warm in that pod (would recommend doing it when weather is a bit cooler). If you've got a child over age 8 there's a great book by Siobhan Dowd called The London Eye Mystery which partially revolves around the wheel on the Thames. Well worth seeking out.

So, what now? you ask. Well, shipping orders, visiting the bank and doing laundry (a lot of laundry to do). Finally, things have quieted down to the point where I know I have Absolutely Nothing planned for tomorrow. Bliss. And, the man-cub even decided to do his homework yesterday without any pressing from me.

Don't get me wrong: the past two weeks have been great. Worked like a fool (good thing I've got what I refer to as an overdeveloped sense of order and am a list-maker), learned a lot, got to know Andy Tauer a bit more, had tea at Bea's (including a gorgeous passionfruit jelly), and lunch at The Empress of India (both are venues I love and have blogged about in the past).

Now. Well. OK. It's been gorgeous here, so my titchy garden is having a growth spurt and smells gorgeous. The wafting combo contains lavender and roses at the moment. I anticipate that the philadelphus, honeysuckle and jasmine will join in soon. Worth bottling my garden. Oh, and the passionflower, which really struggled over this awful winter, has decided to give itself a push and make some leaves. Meaning there will be those beautiful blue and yellow flowers over one garden wall later this summer. Here's a pic of what things look like at the moment (passionflower is over on the far right side):

One project for next week is to finally try the new L'Artisan tuberose fragrance. I'll blog on this as soon as I manage to get myself to the Marylebone shop. I also want to sniff more from the Ortegia line (again in Marylebone) -- great bath and home products (I'm lusting after the pomegranate candle).

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the weather and all the smells that go with it. Happy fragrant weekend.

Talking vs thinking about perfume

Some thoughts regarding the launch event for Tauer Perfumes' new Orange Star fragrance, which occurred last Friday. Persolaise wrote a lovely piece on the evening that is posted on Basenotes, which relieves me from having to do a descriptive thing here.

Rather, I'm going to focus on an observation made by a number of participants on Friday night: what a pleasure it is (and something of a revelation) for perfumistas to have the chance to talk face to face about smell and fragrance with other perfume lovers.  

Over and over, people mentioned this to me. You see, most of the time we communicate on the discussion sites (Basenotes, Makeup Alley) or the blogs, and the discussions are anonymous and choppy because we use screen names and are part of a 'comments' section below a post about this or that fragrance subject. You might get to know fellow posters because you see their comments repeatedly -- get a sense of their likes and dislikes and how they express themselves -- but that's pretty much it. You don't know what they look like or what their voice sounds like and you miss out how they physically express themselves (someone can use their hands or body quite expressively, which is obviously missed out when you're not face to face).

I have had some experience of the revelation of face-to-face discussion with the Scent Gatherings I organise. Also, anyone who has participated in a Basenotes event or something put together by Sniffapalooza of the US will have had a taste of the serious pleasure you get from being in the same room as other perfume lovers.

In my experience the discussions range wide, tipping between perfumes tested to perfume perceptions to memories and then flying off to memories of mothers, aunts, spilled handbag contents, buying, favourite notes and flowers -- hours and hours of both serious and hysterical discussion.

And then there is the experience of sniffing one-on-one (or maybe a few more) with perfumista companions. I recall an afternoon at Fortnum several years ago with three women I had met on Makeup Alley.

Just so much pleasure and so interesting, as perfume lovers don't just love smell and fragrance: they tend to read and cook and garden, among other things, and get a serious buzz talking about these activities, then going off on ridiculously interesting tangents.

This last point was borne out in both author and poet Richard Bradbury's short talk and Andy Tauer's longer comments on Friday night (again, have a look at persolaise's post on Basenotes and Andy has posted a short film of the event on his blog -- go to www.tauerperfumes.com for that). Smell just sends you thinking.

Finally, there's the visceral pleasure of smelling something together and participants were able to do this on Friday using the Orange Star vials that were given away on the evening. As soon as people started to pick up and spray the new fragrance the low level rumble of discussion shot up a few notches. Noses to other wrists, comments went flying.

All in, a wonderful way to tie up a seriously pleasurable evening of eating, drinking and discussion -- with all brought together because of a love of perfume.

Orange Star event

I was going to blog on this tomorrow, but there's a wonderful report from persolaise posted on Basenotes today (www.basenotes.net).

So, have a look at that and I'll be back tomorrow with some thoughts on the gathering plus some other stuff.

It's half term and I've got both my son home and my father visiting from New York (for four days). No rest etc.