Profumi delle Cinque Terre: Tentazioni di Fico and Agave

One of the companies I had never heard before but encountered them on the Fragranze fair was Profumi delle Cinque Terre.

Cinque Terre is a region somewhere north-west here, at the eastern end of the Ligurian rugged coastline beyond La Spezia; I've never been there, only went on train to Genova, but I hear that it's a picturesque piece of land. Admittedly, the other parts of Italy didn't get any of my liking but I never claimed to be anything like politically correct anyways. The company searched and found inspiration in the local countryside, after all, many the small companies have, or claim to have, some specific indigenous feature. But... it doesn't matter to me in this case, even if they were inspired by the council trash dump, street crime and railway delays, the fragrances totally rock.

Agave is a more sophisticated version of my beloved Sycomore. Beat me, kill me for such a blasphemy if you wish. No, I'm no less of a Chanel junkie but where Sycomore is fresh to the verge of biting, Agave is fresh, cold and enchanting. After the first whiff of something rather medicinal - iodine disinfectant, I guess, there comes a flood of mint, with the bittersweet saffron and sour rhubarb. Oddly enough, it creates a light vetivery fragrance as a whole, or rather a four-dimensional vetiver of unexpected depths, with something glittering that is halfway there and halfway somewhere else. I don't remember encountering a mint-based fragrance; I wonder why mint isn't used more, the smell is lovely even on its own. Maybe the whole toothpaste and chewing gum affair alienated it to the perfumers, who knows. A quick search showed that mint is present in quite some fragrances I own: the fresh and pungent Liberté Acidulée, oddly enough Le Male, spicy and sweet, AA Herba Fresca - I can possibly smell it in that one but it's overdriven with other green notes and a few tons of lemon peel. And the good ole plain yet nice Green Tea from Elizabeth Arden where I don't remember it at all. None of them is built around the mint tone, though, and in fact, in none of those does it stick out in some clearly discernible manner. Agave, though, has a distinct mint candy quality which I adore in fragrances

Top notes: rum, mint, rhubarb
Middle notes: pimento, elemi, saffron
Base notes: oak wood, labdanum, musk

Tentazione di Fico
Whatever they say about big juicy leaves on their website, this one has a salty start with a bit of iodine thrown in the mixture. It's time to forget the notes, however poetic they may be, and follow the ingredients as they are stated on the box: limonene, linalool, coumarin (I guess I can trace it there if I have at least a bit of olfactory memory), citronellal - check. That one is the pungent green bit of muguet, geraniol - check, peppery floral, citral. Throw in that weird ozone smell of clary sage and a pinch of iodine and there we are. Fresh to the verge of biting, salty, pungent. The hint of fig leaves does appear a bit later, somewhat sweetish and rounded but the fragrance remains very green and somewhat salty.

Top notes: fig leaves, basil, currant leaves
Middle notes: jasmine, clary sage
Base notes: cedar wood, sandalwood, tonka bean, musk

I don't generally believe in strong evocative powers of perfumes. Most of them are abstract, it happens hardly ever to me that there would be something very specific. These two, however, are two different renderings of sea breeze. Two bottles of instant holiday, Helg might say, she's much more metaphoric than yours truly.

I would like to give some useful hint as to where get the stuff from Profumi delle Cinque Terre but I must admit that I don't know. The company website doesn't have a shop, I mailed them but I haven't got a response so far, most probably because I mailed them on Friday and normal people have weekends off. I'll be back when I have the information.


Notes taken from the company website, http://profumidellecinqueterre.com

I want to go home, damn

I perfectly understand that it's the rule ingrained so deep into the matter of universe that nothing can be done with it but it's no consolation that the landladies are mean arseholes. Or only mean or only arseholes, mine being a nice sweet arsehole landlady.
It appears that in the morning, she went to a fish market or some place where she got raw fish, she fixed it for lunch and happily left the uncooked bits in the trash on the balcony. (I think there's something Southerner about leaving the trash on the balcony because the only other people whom I noticed doing it were my Greek flatmates, be the earth heavy upon them when their time comes. But I may be wrong and pigs are present about anywhere.) Now, I totally wouldn't mind leaving the trash on the balcony if the very same balcony wasn't the balcony where the French window from my room opens. All day long, I was sniffing fish trash which later in the afternoon turned into fish trash on which sun is shining.
I also fail to understand why the landlady cooks half a portion of something, eats half of that and then leaves the rest on the plate, covering it with a pot lid, saucepan or another plate, leaving a few such installations around. Isn't it easier, when she cooks every bit from the fresh, to cook that minute amount she'd eat anyway? I opt for making a full pot of whatever and eat it for three days, not nice but practical.

No, I want to be at home. There or the other there, I don't care. At parents', there's a well-equipped kitchen so I can make me a chocolate cake although I can't possibly dye fabrics there, in my place, I can make whatever mess I fancy. No fish remains, no constant washing of things at the kitchen balcony and no damn annoying people around all the time. It's not only the landlady, this house is made of painted paper or something similar so I hear all the sounds from the stairwell, the elevator and every neighbours' breath. They have three daughters, I suspect that the youngest is around 16, and lots of social life. And they start a dishwasher at eight a. m. sharp, which is plainly cruel, I the hell sleep at eight.

The most important thing is that I'll have my own cat at home when I'm there. (Can't wait for the exquisite feeling of dying of asphyxation at 3 a. m. when dearie insist on sleeping on my head and my allergy insists on existing.)

No, I'm being snarky and mean.
I've been to another of the little museums today, Casa Siviero. Little local museums have a certain charm to me, and I wonder whether someone will set up my house as one after I die. I'd better throw away my things in advance.

Meantime

I got so overwhelmed by whatever I'm doing that I decided to take a break from school and do something normal for a while.
Which means some paperwork and I detest paperwork but, well, can be managed. And I can't wait for the day when I'm back at work. I so much need a change and something else but the art crap...

Now, don't take me wrong, I still do like all that art crap. I'm just fed up for the time being and I need some chocolate cake instead.
I'll be around.

Ex Floribus Vinis No. 1 ananas sativa

The other day I was perusing the internetz and checked one of the stores I sometimes check. In general, it has the usual and expected stuff although I snatched several discontinued fragrances there. And, I saw Ex Floribus Vinis. Having never heard that name before, I did my homework, checked online and saw that it should be a wine-inspired line of fragrances.
We have alcoholism in the family so I couldn't resist and grabbed both bottles they had, No. 1 and No. 5. I must admit that I expected something more... winey. Even the names are rather floral, ananas sativa being pineapple.
When the package arrived (along with some future Christmas gifts), I was at first disappointed by the lack of presentation. The pictures on the bottles (and boxes) show a silhouette of a happy 18th century drunkard surrounded by foliage, if you look at them closely, the yellow frame of No. 1 with the black of the image kills my sensitivities and, well, it looks like another nondescript cologne.
The fragrance surprised me. I expected something more winey, admittedly, but then, it would be called Pinot Noir or Commandaria or something like that. In fact, at first, it was all jasmine to me, and quite similar to Une Fleur de Chanel, for that matter. After a while, my impression cleared a bit - not Une Fleur but Chris 1947. Chris 1947 is an adorable cranberry fragrance with a miserable staying power so I cut it with a bit of something with jasmine which enhances the cranberries and makes it stay. And, also, the fragrance changes to more pronouncedly fruity after a while, too. With discernible pineapple, and here I have to applaud that finally, there's a pineapple fragrance which isn't overtly sweet or piňa-coladaish (i. e. no coconut, thankyouverymuch), sweet oranges and grapes - at least. Could be wine pretty well, some lighter red one from the North. The company website (all flash, no direct linky) says that it was inspired by Malvasia from the hills of Piacenza. I should get a bottle to find out; I have two more wine-inspired fragrances up my sleeve so I need to do a bit of shopping anyway, I suspect. Meantime I plan to enjoy.


Top notes: peach, pineapple, papaya, mandarin orange, red berries, orange
Middle notes: cyclamen, lily of the valley, rose, oats
Base notes: sweet woods, white musk, amber

Vetiver, patchouli, iris. Name it, I'll be overdosed by that one, too.

The fragrance fair, Fragranze 7, takes place these days and today it was opened to the general public.

I came back from there a while ago totally over...everything so I had a shower, made me a salmon sandwich (there's a fragrance named Sushi impériale, did you know?), painted my toenails (no Eau d'Acétone of which I knew) and made me a big cup of strong coffee (a score of coffee fragrances out there in the wild, most of them exceedingly sweet) to give my nose a break.

The whole fair was very educational, especially for us, self-proclaimed half-experts. I got several handfuls of samples, bajillion of scented pieces of paper and some interesting information and I'll go through it all. Those who were nice to me and/or gave me samples (Keiko Mecheri, Andy Tauer, Juliette Has a Gun, Susanne Lang, Profumi delle Cinque Terre, Manuel Canovas, Olivier Durbano and a few more) will get their own posts, the latter ones only when I go through the ephemeral bits of paper.

(Yes, this heap expects me to go through and comment.)

There was a possibility to go to the matroneum of the Baptistery, today at one, so I had a break, along with a chance to get a roll of foil; sure, some nice plastic sleeve to keep my scented bits of paper would be better but one has to make do when needed.

I observed a few trends - there are local companies with rather specific background and interesting inspirations - *Tauletto (2), for example, is a wine house and I was told that one day, there was a nose tasting it and thought that it could be made into a perfume... and so they did. Indeed, from wht I can say, the fragrance reminds me of wine fairly enough, definitely more than Ex Floribus Vinis that shares the same concept but smells of, well, flowers (this one will get its own post). Or Olivier Durbano and his 'mineral' line - I'm not a troll (1), I can't say in a qualified manner how does a turquoise or jade smell but the fragrances will go on my wishlist as soon as I set it up.
Then, soliflors (and soliradices etc.). Susan Lang, I was told, even means that her fragrances be mixed; same goes for Odori - while eavesdropping, I heard the representative explaining to someone that they even have a sixpack of all their scents and that they can be mixed to one's heart's content. To each their own; and undoubtedly, there are days when I want to wear roses or sandalwood. But, well, if I'm to mix my own perfume, then I'd rather start from the scrap, thank you, than play with a handful of soliflors thinking how great a nose I am. I prefer the imaginative stream - there's something enchanting about things named, say, Bal d'Afrique or Nuit de Longchamps (Byredo will be dealt with, Lubin possibly so, too). I'll discover that saffron or cedarwood in it myself.

Now, a quick list of those that caught my attention and whom I plan to check - alas, they didn't have samples.

Perle di Bianca, inspired by the personality of Bianca Capello, Venetian noblewoman of controversial fame, she was first a mistress and then a wife of Grand Duke Francesco de'Medici. I had the possibility to try the bath oil with neroli and myrrh notes, there's something very sweet with gourmand qualities to it - it's made from hazelnut oil, that may be the thing. The perfume features notes of jasmine, citruses, amber and blackberry, with base of iris, musk and myrrh. The result is very smooth and sophisticated. I'll definitely make a trip to their shop at Bagno di Ripoli (it's somewhere around Florence, no clue where) to check without hurry.

Acqua di Stresa (site under construction) with three locally inspired fragrances, using, as I was told, local ingredients (not sure which ones).

Profumi di Cinque Terre: another newly born name, will get its own post (and I want all of their frags, damn). (Special thanks to the nice lady who gave me all the samples.)

Sigilli do not deny a sort of Roman (like, ancient Roman, although the company is located in some Gallicano nel Lazio, provincia di Roma, too) inspiration. I put my paws on five. *Claudiae, with head of tomato leaves and poppy, heart of rose and galbanum and base of patchouli and musk caught my attention by the tomato leaves, since I learned that my everlating favourite, Liberté Acidulée features these, I cannot resist trying anything that contains them. The choice proved a good one, the fragrance has a fresh air of a cold morning at the edge of a Mediterranean forest. Tuscia, old name for Tuscany, irresistible only for this, spicy, powdery, floral, musky. Smooth, discreet with a magnolia (?) undertone I'd happily skip, though. Asprosa with, if I'm right, petitgrain, bergamot, myrrh and maybe some vetiver; I think it would make a nice fresh summer fragrance if the citruses don't go bad in hot weather. Anyhow, this is the sort of citruses I like, adstringent, sharp, backed by something resiny. Thu with lots of anise that gives it the odour of sweaty armpit, no, thanks, but someone may find it sexy or something. One way or another, good and unusual fragrance. Somewhat stinky *Athunis with cedarwood, Java vetiver and musk. Very smoky, earthy and masculine, just the right thing for me. To be worn with caution lest people start calling the fire brigade, it's really smoky.

And last for now, Prudence. Based in Provence, making everything of white flowers. Just now, I have the sweet citrusy woodsy Stewart under my nose - and I love the presentation, too, with gilded statuettes of deer that do not deny being totally plaster. I love the irony.

Now, would you excuse me. Sensory overload and craving for more smoked salmon.

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(1) That's a Terry Pratchett reference.
(2) Fragrances marked with an asterisk are those I WANT! The wishlist will be compiled later on.

Back to Florence

I'm back to Italy. After usual travel vicissitudes - I hate travelling, you know - I had the chance to go for lunch with the gals I used to hang together all the previous semester and whom I badly missed in summer. I told them to let me know and simply come but none did - maybe I didn't sound serious enough in that offer and it served me right, I was stuck at home with mildly entertaining and mostly annoying relatives and my own boredom.

I'm the fattest and ugliest of the bunch, should you not know. I'm also quite possibly the laziest.
I'd like to have M. at home, though. I haven't deciphered yet whether she's just being nice or whether she really means it but she thinks that I'm generous because I brought her some stuff she'd like(my mom would call that stupid), brave because I'm not afraid of walking alone in the countryside (my mom would call that stupid, too, and she'd let me know about her opinions), hard-working (an illusion shared by most of the world), smart because, for example, I go mushrooming and haven't died of poisoning yet (erm, I know around six species of wild mushrooms, no big deal). Nothing warms my heart as a bit of praise. Too bad that most of the praise is somewhat undeserved.
I must be having some bad time or something - I suspect that my grey matter changed into mashed potatoes. Naturally, such things happens preferably around the exams so I guess I'll make an idiot of myself. I'm somehow unable to concentrate and much worse, usually chocolate helps. Nowadays, I even don't feel like getting some, lest eating it.
Sigh.

No. 46

When there's a reason to expect a perfume in the mail, and when the package smells, it's a BAD sign. Like, very bad sign.

I'm not sure how to ascertain that once-opened bottles will not leak, and now I mean those with glass stoppers, not those with screw-on tops. I suppose that sealing it with wax or at least clingy foil could do at least some job. Last week, it happened to a bottle of Chanel No. 22 so I threw all the clingy foils and ziplocks in a box and colognized (TM) them.

How to salvage a perfume that leaked: I use the method of colognization (TM); for that, you need a tightly sealable container large than the material in which perfume is soaked and some alcohol, easy to obtain in a local pharmacy. Pour alcohol on whatever is holding the perfume (the famous red silk scarf wallpaper alert! it may be, or a heap of foils or just about anything). Put in the container, close shut and leave it there. You might shake it, toss enclosed object around to bathe them in alcohol, whatever. After some days, pour into a flacon, wring textiles, press newspapers or clumps of foil, whatever. If smell lingers in whatever there was (famous red silk scarf smells of irises and musk, I think, half a year after the accident), put it between your clothes or books or something. Which is exactly the thing that happened to No. 22 and consequently to the wrapping material of No. 46.

No. 46 has been discontinued since forever but I snatched some. I had nothing better to do than brag to Helg; she went Oh, damn, the one with the torn label that I saw on [somewhere in the internetz] the other day? Tell me no, it looks like a fake, but, if you got that one, send me a sample because were it a fake, the who made it had damn cojones and a special degree of ruthlessness. I scratched my head and thought that I asked for it, that hunting old stuff I don't know is an idiotic idea somehow in general and that it'd serve me right.
A day after that mail, it arrived. The package smelled rather well, I uttered a few curses and went to buy more alcohol (1). The wrappers went to a marmalade jar and yielded a slightly dilué version which was however powerful enough to knock me off the chair if I hadn't smelled the thing before.
Roses.
Or carnation.
Probably both.

It's not that grandma-style rose like Penhaligon's Elizabethan Rose, nor that sweet, slightly sickening rose of Nahema or Mahora in extrait version (2), it's warm, spicy, carnation-y and slightly reminds me of Fleur de Feu but after a while it mellows to sweet musky calmness. Something that I badly miss among Les Exclusifs.
A quick search showed next to none results, something on Perfume Intelligence, a review by Octavian at 1000perfumes and a few discussions along the lines of Wtf is Chanel No. 46.
Excellent fragrance, dear children.

We're still discussing the possible fakeness with Helg, I sent her a sample and we'll see. Should that be a fake, then the creator should apply for a job at some place like Givaudan. Because, it had cojones, special degree of ruthlessness and created a stunning perfume worth the price, even if it were Eau de Rose by Anonymous Pharmacy of Podunk.

Now, after a while, the drydown is still sweet and musky with a hint of lily of the valley and/or vetiver and it promises to last forever. Someone out there should start taking 100 litre orders.

Top notes: bergamot, orange, neroli
Middle notes: rose, lily of the valey, ylang-ylang, jasmine
Base notes: vetiver, orris, sandalwood, coumarine, vanilla, musk (3)



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(1) It's not that easy to get, in fact. They sell it only in small amounts, only 60% and they look weird at people in the pharmacy. I asked a doc friend to get me the 96% thing through the secret sources, though.
(2) Mahora deserves its own story for the bottle, if for nothing else. Not to be expected anytime soon, Mahora is left behind at home II.
(3) notes after Perfume Intelligence, http://www.perfumeintelligence.co.uk/library/perfume/c/c3/c3p6.htm