San Fran Scents

Encre Noire by Lalique

Vetiver (or vetyver) is one of those classic fragrance notes that every notable parfumeur strives to present in a new and unique way, almost as a test of their skill and virtuosity.  All the better for us.  It is one of my favorite notes, and I love opening the various examples of it from my collection and comparing them head to head, admiring the way the dry, woody, smoky root that -- in the right hands -- blends well and yet remains distinctive.  Starting with Guerlain's fresh classic masculine 1958 masterpiece Vetiver Guerlain, to the transparent, mineralic duet with the smell of salty air in Sel de Vetiver by Celine Ellena ofThe Different Company, to it's intimate pairing with iris in Dzongkha by l'Artisan Parfumeur, I just can't get enough.

My current favorite, is  Encre Noire by Lalique, a dark, smoky, dry vetiver that is redolent of old dry paper and parchment, the black ink of our childhood memories, and library shelves constructed of cypress and cashmere wood. There is a brief opening note of citrus and turpentine: the apparent accelerant for the burning cedar wood that emerges later, or the smell of an artist's atelier. There is a musky background that hints of heirloom roses smelled through smoke.  It is a dry, austere fragrance that is somewhat withholding of its pleasures.  It is mysterious, dark and intriguing.  It's like looking at the world through a glass of single malt scotch, minus the warm amber color. Marvelous.

Escentric 02 by Escentric Molecules

Remember the old 7-Up TV commercials from the late 70's (I'm dating myself)?  The sexy bald-headed man with the Jamaican accent says: "It's the un-cola.  Ha ha haaa".  The point of the ad was that true refreshment doesn't have to come from some dark mysterious secret formula with many ingredients.  Refreshment comes from a simple lemon-lime citrus note blended with effervescence.  Sparkling, not syrupy. And it makes you happy. Thus the "Ha ha haa." Escentric Molecules' newest fragrance for men, Escentric 02, is the fragrance world's version of the un-cola, an un-fragrance.

It's not that Escentric 02 doesn't have a fragrance.  It does and it's quite wonderful (and we'll get to that shortly). But the brand's premise (and detractors would say, gimmick) is that a single molecule alone, or enhanced with a whisper of other scent molecules, can constitute an engaging fragrance to be taken seriously.  This idea really tossed traditional notions of fragrance on their touches.

Molecule 02 and Escentric 02 were released together in May 2008.  Molecule 02 is composed of only Ambroxan, at a higher concentration than one would normally find it if used as an ingredient in another fragrance.  Contrary to the hype, Ambroxan is not a brand new molecule; Jean-Claude Ellena used it in his Jardin sur le Nil for the Hermessence line.  It's a medium-priced, very nice molecule that that adds a clean amber accord to fragrances.  It lacks the greasy animalic quality of ambergris.  Ambergris, the  traditional source of amber notes, is extremely expensive whale bile which is excreted naturally and floats on the surface of the ocean until it lands on the beach and is discovered by ecstatic Frenchmen who can now afford that trip to Tahiti. Escentric 02 is Ambroxan plus other notes: vetiver,  muscone,  orris,  elderflower.

My experience of fragrances tends to be somewhat synesthetic.  Smells are processed in my brain to  be experienced not just as an odor, but as something visual.  Smells can conjure up entire Proustian vignettes (see my review of Habit Rouge), or just a vague awareness of something visual.  With Escentric 02,  what I see is a large glistening drop of a clean smelling oil (the Ambroxan), surrounded by whizzing satellite molecules creating a citrusy,  crisp, and green freshness (the vetiver), a musky earthy floral (muscone and iris), with a clean woodsy warm dry down (I smell cedar).  The genius of Escentric 02 is that its crisp, dry, freshness is subtle yet sexy, and has great persistence, illustrating the fact that the opening power and degree of sillage of a perfume are only partly responsible for its persistence.  It's the inherent quality of the molecules used that is critical.  In that regard, Escentric 02 is a stealth fragrance, that stays fairly close to the skin, and flies under the radar until it is ready to reveal itself. It is the perfect scent for me for work, where come-hither sillage would be inappropriate. It has rewarded me all day long with occasional whiffs that make me say to myself "Self, what smells so good?"  And the answer is Escentric 02. Ha ha haa!

The Escentric Molecule line is available through luckyscent.com and aedes.com. 

Habit Rouge by Guerlain

...when nothing subsists from the distant past, after the people are dead, after the things are destroyed, all alone -- more frail yet more alive, more immaterial, more resilient, more faithful -- the smell and taste of things endure in time, like souls reminding, waiting, hoping on the ruin of all the rest and bearing unflinchingly, in tiny and almost impalpable droplets, the immense edifice of memory.
                                                                                                                        --Marcel Proust, The Remembrance of Things Past

Sometimes, writing a fair and unbiased review of a fragrance is a difficult thing indeed.  Habit Rouge (Guerlain, 1965) is such a fragrance for me.  I had been eager to review it. I had read about its distinguished place in the pantheon of classic fragrances.  The first masculine oriental and the first  prestigious men's fragrance. When the padded envelope arrived in the mail with a decanted sample, I tore it open, released it from its bubbled plastic cocoon, and inhaled ---

---1977, the memory of opening a purse that belonged to my Aunt Laurie, containing a compact with face powder, a small perfume bottle, assorted orphaned buttons, a travel sewing kit and a red lipstick. The assorted flotsam and jetsam of a life I hadn't thought about in over 30 years. Aunt Laurie always wore red lipstick, like a 1940s film starlet, and wore her hair like Judy Garland in her mid-MGM years.  I can picture her vividly, in a polka dot blouse, pants (she always wore pants) that didn't quite match, her hair dyed a chestnut color. Aunt Laurie lived alone, never married.  She was technically my great aunt, my grandfather's only sister, and lived with her brother, Camie, in a studio apartment adjacent to his veterinary practice in Auburn, Maine.  Her apartment was, now that I think about it, in the converted 'el' -- the architectural name given to the covered connection between the farmhouse and barn in rural New England that was frequently shaped like the letter "L".   

Laurette Gardner had suffered a fall from a swing when she was a child, which, according to family legend, broke her back and left her with little to no control over her legs. Her legs were frozen in a seated position, one leg perpetually trying to cross over the other knee, but never quite making it.  And what the accident didn't take from her, rheumatoid arthritis did.  I remember her hands on her walker, fingers that met her hand at a painful angle, knuckles swollen, like pollarded trees.  I remember her moving slowly across her apartment, arduously swinging her hips, and pivoting on the balls of her feet. When people in my family spoke of  Aunt Laurie, it was always in a slightly hushed tone, as if her crippled body was something shameful. 

What was most remarkable about my Aunt Laurie was that, in spite of the lousy hand life dealt her, she always greeted us kids with a radiant smile.  Offered us homemade peanut butter fudge.  Remembered the details we had revealed about our lives the last time we visited.  I loved her and was scared of her at the same time.  Scared of her loneliness, of her tragedy, of her Christina's World life.

So this was what I smelled when I opened the small bottle of Habit Rouge. The tangy oriental opening,  bergamot and pimento, the bittersweet memory of an old lady's purse.  It has the warm heart of a woman who cherished the small treasures of life. Who wore a man's fragrance and pants. Patchouli, cedar, rose.  And a sweet, vanilla  finish, with the lingering  leather notes of horse harnesses in a veterinarian's barn in Maine, attached to an el.  L for Laurie.

What's a guy gotta do to get a freakin sample in this town?

Apparently, samples of fragrances are harder to get in this town than most illicit substances.  Not that I would know.  I'm just saying....

As a neophyte fragrance fiend, I initially thought that getting a sample vial of something I'd read about in a blog would be as easy as smiling and asking the nice woman behind the counter (or the one with the trigger finger on the tester).  The reply invariably goes like this: "Oh we don't have samples". (A lie). Or: "Let me look to see if I have any."  She will open a drawer FULL of sample cards with the glistening little vials attached, which you can clearly see, and then tell you with a smile "I'm sorry, we don't have any samples."  Now, one visit to ebay will tell you why they don't hand out samples in department stores.  They're pocketing them and selling them on ebay. For 3-10 dollars a pop.

Do not despair:  it is possible to get your hands on these babies for free.  Ask intelligent questions about different fragrances, engage the salesperson in a conversation, let them know you are seriously looking for a new frag, and that you promise you'll come back to them. Ask for a business card. Also, you are far more likely to score at Neimans or Saks (and possibly Bloomies) than you are at Macy's.  Also, if you make a purchase from any other department in the store, ask that salesperson to help you obtain a fragrance sample.  Salesperson + salesperson = results.

An easier way is to go to Luckyscent.com.  They have an amazing sample program there.  Many of the frags they carry are available as a small decanted sample for $3.  Trust me, it's cheaper than ebay most of the time.  For samples of niche perfumes check out Aedes.com.  For $15 they will send you 7 samples, which you can specify, or you can have them choose for you depending on what notes or accords you like.  Also, some of the perfumers on Aedes' site (e.g. Amouage) will sell you their entire line of mens fragrances for around $45 in high quality travel size atomizers in a beautiful presentation box.  Ineke.com does something even better.  All five of Ineke Ruhlman's releases can be had for $20, and they come in the most exquisitely packaged presentation box. Very Zen. Ineke Ruhlman has the most phenomenal customer service!  Bill, the e-sales guy, actually walked a sample over to my office because we're in the same neighborhood.  Unbelievable. 

Last, but not least, if you go directly to a perfumer's website, and register on their email list, sometimes they will send you free (yes, dear reader, free!) samples if you write them and ask very nicely.  I got a beautiful travel size atomizer of Ormonde Man from Ormonde Jayne in London that way.  And if you are lucky enough to live in a big city that has a Fresh stand-alone store, they are very pleasant about handing out samples (ask for Cannabis Santal....mmmmm.  Not that I would know anything about cannabis.  I'm just saying....).

Happy hunting!

Scents in the City

I live in a city, San   Francisco, where there is a vocal anti-fragrance movement. Many meetings and public spaces display warnings about being “fragrance-free.” Wearing a hair product with the faintest bit of sillage (the Pig-Pen-like cloud of scent that envelopes a wearer) can elicit the evil eye – on the bus, the MUNI, Starbucks, Blow-Buddies. The gay community especially places great emphasis on men smelling like men, and I have to admit that when I first moved to San Francisco 10 years ago, I was cowed into compliance by all the beefy hairy men who got off on the smell of sweat and armpits and leather. Sigh. I wanted to be wanted. 

 The lines of skirmish on this fragrance vs. no fragrance battle are drawn particularly deep at the gym. Depending on your inclination, the gym could either be a sinus-clearing odiferous experience or olfactory nirvana. As one out-of-towner said to me at Gold’s Gym in the Castro (while leaning in and whispering conspiratorially): “Is there a law here requiring tattoos and banning deodorant?” Sometimes, I said, it seems that way. And can I work in?

 But still, I found myself drawn to the love that dare not speak its name -- I became, dear reader, a closet case (or maybe a cofret case?). I have secretly spritzed in Neimans and Saks, furtively exiting through the door furthest from the cosmetic counters, prepared to cast the evil eye at innocent bystanders at the merest sign of being discovered. You know, the omigod-who-cut-the-cheese look. We’ve all done it.  I’ve begged and cajoled and lied to salespeople for samples, promising my firstborn son, so I could indulge in my addiction in the safety of my own home. I’ve put nano-micro-smidgens of scent on my wrists, and with beating heart emerged IN PUBLIC, equally terrified of running into a scent nazi and high on the adrenaline rush of being so, so…. subversive. I’ve stashed small vials of men’s – and women’s! – fragrances in my pockets, obtained through ebay auctions under an assumed name, and smuggled them through the Castro to my home.

Now, as a gay man in his forties, I have come to the point of realizing that I need to live with self-respect and dignity. I need to be true to myself. I am what I am and those trannies at Stonewall did not suffer for nothin’. I need to be out and proud about my love for a good woody chypre (or at least a good woody). I have admitted to myself and to another human being my powerlessness over all things perfume. I have burst through the closet doors and worn obscene amounts of Terre d’Hermes in public. I’ve compared and contrasted the merits of Guerlain’s Vetyver vs. Hermès’ Vetiver Tonka to gape-mouthed leather queens over lunch. I mean really, what is the reference vetiver? I waxed poetic about Chandler Burr’s books and columns, and have come to see Sarah Jessica Parker as a woman of high culture and a paragon of discriminating taste. Look! I said, Sarah Jessica loves perfume and she likes it dirty! Fragrance can be just as raunchy, musky, and sweaty as a bathhouse! Really! Can’t you see how sweat and armpits and leather are just accords in the perfume that is l’Eau de Castro?

The Zen of Fragrance

 But seriously, my exploration of this hidden world has brought more profound insights. It really is true that we are all more alike than we are different. Thinking of other people as different and therefore less-than is the nidus at the core of many evils perpetuated today in our society (duh!). Iraq, anyone? Through fragrance blogs and perfume websites I have communicated with people all over the globe -- Saudi Arabia, Poland, France, Israel, the UK – discussing shared experiences and passions. The Guerlain Habit Rouge that I smell in San Francisco is the same as that smelled by the straight guy in Paris. It gives us a common language and frame of reference. I feel closer, not further away.

 The aspiring Buddhist in me sees other merits: Fragrance is a way of paying attention to the moment, right now. An unexpected whiff brings me back to the moment. Wearing a fragrance forces me to pay attention to how this moment changes – is the scent linear or does it evolve? If I focus and go deep into the architecture of the scent, what is revealed to me? What are the associations my mind makes, that I then notice and disperse, like the puff of an atomizer? Like any pleasure, it can be used to explore the wonders of what life offers, to slip into the stream of energy to which we all have access, to expand our horizons. Or, like any drug, it can be used as an escape, a way of avoiding the less pleasant aspects of life.