alone, but offers itself to all the senses. In saying that, I do not mean its name, the packaging or the bottle, but the perfume’s smell. I am reminded of Paul Cézanne who said that, from its colors, he could tell whether an object was velvety, hard or soft and even what it smelled like. I found my subject in the smell of narcissi. Not the flower, which hovers between the fragrance of roses, white flowers and horse droppings, but an extract obtained from the flowers as well as the stalks, which – for me – has a green, abrasive, rounded, powdery smell. With a juxtaposition of green, abrasive, powdery, woody and floral notes, I have interpreted this olfactory perception by playing on contrasts between the abrasive, powdery and woody notes, and the green and floral ones. Narcissus may be the main premise of this cologne, but I will not actually be using an extract of it, because I am trying to achieve a density and a thickness that only synthesized compounds can give me, because their characteristics can melt together without detracting from the way the subject is interpreted.
Cabris, Thursday 26 August 2010
Mediterranean
I was born in Grasse, and yet I do not feel Grassois by nature, nor Provençal, for that matter. My parents and I left Grasse too early for me to feel I belong in the town, although I am fond of it. My attachment to the place is due to my paternal grandparents, who were of Italian descent and who set up home there; but also to the people who helped, taught, instructed and supported me during my apprenticeship there, people who were mostly not Grassois. As for the image of people from Provence as boastful, chauvinistic, noisy and generous – characteristics that gave Pagnol’s films much of their charm – I do not recognize myself in it. I prefer Jean Giono’s world. Pagnol the Parisian tended towards regionalism, Giono the Manosquin had his eye on the universal. 6
I try to avoid the sun, and favor shady woodland. I find the languor of beaches boring, but am drawn to creeks and reefs. I love the sea and its horizon, where my gaze gets lost as the blue of the sky and that of the sea merge. I appreciate the beautiful bodies, the drape of light clothing, the discreet elegance and restraint. I have never been able to truss myself up in suits; their restrictiveness denotes a rigidness of mind and disenchantment with life. I believe in happiness, in man, in a lay spirituality; I donot trust religions. I would rather have eye contact for a long time than chatter for a long time. And, although I like to seduce, I have a sense of propriety with words. As I write this, I am reminded in particular of Camus, who wrote in
L’exil d’Hélène
:
‘Greek thought always took refuge in the idea of limits. It pushed nothing to its full extent, not the sacred, nor reason, because it denied nothing, not the sacred, nor reason. It took everything into account, balancing shadow with light.’
I have never sought to impose anything. My research is driven by a constant desire to find a balance between what can be felt with the senses and what is intelligible to the mind. I am Mediterranean.
Cabris, Wednesday 1 September 2010
Subject
A perfume does not necessarily need a subject, a concept; if it is beautiful it exists in itself.
Un Jardin en Méditerranée
was created with a subject as its starting point: the smell of fig leaves, which represent the Mediterranean for me.
Terre d’Hermès
evolved differently. At the start, the only pointer I had from my chair- woman was the word
‘terre’
(earth). This name had been registered as a trademark for a perfume several years previously. Clearly, it was not a question of reproducing the smell of earth. I began with a perfume structure that I had kept in reserve, one created without a subject in mind, and one I believed in. As the composition included a high percentage of woody notes, I came up with the image of a wooden post driven into the ground against the
Cabris, Thursday 26 August 2010
Mediterranean
I was born in Grasse, and yet I do not feel Grassois by nature, nor Provençal, for that matter. My parents and I left Grasse too early for me to feel I belong in the town, although I am fond of it. My attachment to the place is due to my paternal grandparents, who were of Italian descent and who set up home there; but also to the people who helped, taught, instructed and supported me during my apprenticeship there, people who were mostly not Grassois. As for the image of people from Provence as boastful, chauvinistic, noisy and generous – characteristics that gave Pagnol’s films much of their charm – I do not recognize myself in it. I prefer Jean Giono’s world. Pagnol the Parisian tended towards regionalism, Giono the Manosquin had his eye on the universal. 6
I try to avoid the sun, and favor shady woodland. I find the languor of beaches boring, but am drawn to creeks and reefs. I love the sea and its horizon, where my gaze gets lost as the blue of the sky and that of the sea merge. I appreciate the beautiful bodies, the drape of light clothing, the discreet elegance and restraint. I have never been able to truss myself up in suits; their restrictiveness denotes a rigidness of mind and disenchantment with life. I believe in happiness, in man, in a lay spirituality; I donot trust religions. I would rather have eye contact for a long time than chatter for a long time. And, although I like to seduce, I have a sense of propriety with words. As I write this, I am reminded in particular of Camus, who wrote in
L’exil d’Hélène
:
‘Greek thought always took refuge in the idea of limits. It pushed nothing to its full extent, not the sacred, nor reason, because it denied nothing, not the sacred, nor reason. It took everything into account, balancing shadow with light.’
I have never sought to impose anything. My research is driven by a constant desire to find a balance between what can be felt with the senses and what is intelligible to the mind. I am Mediterranean.
Cabris, Wednesday 1 September 2010
Subject
A perfume does not necessarily need a subject, a concept; if it is beautiful it exists in itself.
Un Jardin en Méditerranée
was created with a subject as its starting point: the smell of fig leaves, which represent the Mediterranean for me.
Terre d’Hermès
evolved differently. At the start, the only pointer I had from my chair- woman was the word
‘terre’
(earth). This name had been registered as a trademark for a perfume several years previously. Clearly, it was not a question of reproducing the smell of earth. I began with a perfume structure that I had kept in reserve, one created without a subject in mind, and one I believed in. As the composition included a high percentage of woody notes, I came up with the image of a wooden post driven into the ground against the
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