we should all try to nurture in our own thought processes.
Cabris, Tuesday 17 August 2010
Back to work
The first thunderstorm breaks sometime around the 15 th of August every year. I like listening to the thunder; it’s one of the most beautiful drum rolls. The grey of the clouds gives some green back to the trees. The rain sets free all the smells that the sun condemned. The months of intense heat are over. There is something reassuring about this renewal.
This morning the sky is spreading out its blue above the workshop. I open the door after three weeks away. The smell hits me. Despite all our precautions, the place is fragrant. I had forgotten that I am cloaked in this smell all year long. I think about visitors encountering it for the first time. It is a presence, a distinctive feature. I know that I need it.
Cabris, Wednesday 18 August 2010
Féminin H,
still
It is a pleasure to get back to the latest work on
Féminin H
; the trials are promising. The inclusion of sandalwood has smoothed the coarse camphor effect of the patchouli. The overall form is full, dense and elegant; but it is not airy enough. I embark on some trials with different types of patchouli that I had put to one side ‘just in case.’ An ester of patchouli gives good results because it has the earthy notes of the traditional essential oil. I carry on with my trials, changing the quality of the musk I originally used, to improve its longevity. At this stage, my task is that of a craftsman perfecting a completed piece. It is systematic work during which I experiment with the different qualities of some of the raw materials used in the formula, paying closer attention to the technical aspects – diffusion, persistence and presence. Later I will put more work into achieving crispness and gorgeousness, and the mischievous smile I want this perfume to have.
Cabris, Friday 20 August 2010
Changing direction
Language lives freely and quite independently of us, and, over time, the words that make it up alter their meaning. (Until recently the word
‘escagasser’ –
which is originally an Occitan word and has a ring to it that I love – meant only to stun or knock senseless; now it can also mean to bore (to death).) The same is true of smells, which can change their meaning over time, without actually losing any of their former significance.
Unlike with language, where no individual can single-handedly change the meaning of a word, when a perfumer puts forward a new interpretation of a smell, he can change its significance. For example, the smell of ionone beta – a molecule discovered in 1893 – was synonymous with the smell of violets right up to the end of the twentieth century. In order to create the accord with tea in
Eau parfumée au thé vert
for Bulgari, I used this synthetic compound in a different way and combined ionone beta with hedione. The perfume became a market archetype, and the smell changed: Ionone no longer smells just of violets, but also of tea.
In the Hermès perfume
Poivre Samarcande
, traces of absolute of violet leaves combined with a high dosage of iso E reveal the peppery aspect of this molecule, hitherto unrecognized. Phenyl ethyl alcohol, used since it was first discovered to evoke the smell of roses, is now used to evoke the smell of sake or cooked rice.
I know that words, and even more so smells, do not have the same significance for each of us; all the same, smells are elementsthat perfumers can transform, bring to life and change. It is because they change meaning that they are alive, and that perfumes are alive.
Cabris, Tuesday 24 August 2010
Narcisse bleu
A work meeting about current projects. We have a lengthy discussion about the composition of
Narcisse bleu
, an improvisation that I am putting forward for the Cologne collection. I explain that, although the smell is important, what I am particularly hoping to express in this perfume is the tactile aspect.
A perfume never speaks to one sense
Cabris, Tuesday 17 August 2010
Back to work
The first thunderstorm breaks sometime around the 15 th of August every year. I like listening to the thunder; it’s one of the most beautiful drum rolls. The grey of the clouds gives some green back to the trees. The rain sets free all the smells that the sun condemned. The months of intense heat are over. There is something reassuring about this renewal.
This morning the sky is spreading out its blue above the workshop. I open the door after three weeks away. The smell hits me. Despite all our precautions, the place is fragrant. I had forgotten that I am cloaked in this smell all year long. I think about visitors encountering it for the first time. It is a presence, a distinctive feature. I know that I need it.
Cabris, Wednesday 18 August 2010
Féminin H,
still
It is a pleasure to get back to the latest work on
Féminin H
; the trials are promising. The inclusion of sandalwood has smoothed the coarse camphor effect of the patchouli. The overall form is full, dense and elegant; but it is not airy enough. I embark on some trials with different types of patchouli that I had put to one side ‘just in case.’ An ester of patchouli gives good results because it has the earthy notes of the traditional essential oil. I carry on with my trials, changing the quality of the musk I originally used, to improve its longevity. At this stage, my task is that of a craftsman perfecting a completed piece. It is systematic work during which I experiment with the different qualities of some of the raw materials used in the formula, paying closer attention to the technical aspects – diffusion, persistence and presence. Later I will put more work into achieving crispness and gorgeousness, and the mischievous smile I want this perfume to have.
Cabris, Friday 20 August 2010
Changing direction
Language lives freely and quite independently of us, and, over time, the words that make it up alter their meaning. (Until recently the word
‘escagasser’ –
which is originally an Occitan word and has a ring to it that I love – meant only to stun or knock senseless; now it can also mean to bore (to death).) The same is true of smells, which can change their meaning over time, without actually losing any of their former significance.
Unlike with language, where no individual can single-handedly change the meaning of a word, when a perfumer puts forward a new interpretation of a smell, he can change its significance. For example, the smell of ionone beta – a molecule discovered in 1893 – was synonymous with the smell of violets right up to the end of the twentieth century. In order to create the accord with tea in
Eau parfumée au thé vert
for Bulgari, I used this synthetic compound in a different way and combined ionone beta with hedione. The perfume became a market archetype, and the smell changed: Ionone no longer smells just of violets, but also of tea.
In the Hermès perfume
Poivre Samarcande
, traces of absolute of violet leaves combined with a high dosage of iso E reveal the peppery aspect of this molecule, hitherto unrecognized. Phenyl ethyl alcohol, used since it was first discovered to evoke the smell of roses, is now used to evoke the smell of sake or cooked rice.
I know that words, and even more so smells, do not have the same significance for each of us; all the same, smells are elementsthat perfumers can transform, bring to life and change. It is because they change meaning that they are alive, and that perfumes are alive.
Cabris, Tuesday 24 August 2010
Narcisse bleu
A work meeting about current projects. We have a lengthy discussion about the composition of
Narcisse bleu
, an improvisation that I am putting forward for the Cologne collection. I explain that, although the smell is important, what I am particularly hoping to express in this perfume is the tactile aspect.
A perfume never speaks to one sense
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