The Perfumista Challenge - results. Part III.

The third specimen is again from Mark, with the provisory name of Myrrh Cologne.
Which it is, there are citruses, there's myrrh... and now let me digress.

The other day, I met one of my perfumista friends downtown and for some reason, we went through the courtyard of the National Library. We went past the library annex and at a certain point, the smell of forest materialized. We both inhaled and started sniffing in an attemt to locate the wearer of that perfume... to find out that the teeny tiny garden was alive with gardeners who were raking the mulch there, mulch made of pine bark chippings. I pondered whether there is a perfume that smells like a forest, wet soil, mushrooms and such, and neither me nor Jerry were able to come up with anything that smells of mushroom. Maybe Demeter Fragrance Library or someone out there has one such, I don't know.

Back to Myrrh Cologne. It has a definite mushroom undertone. Heap of freshly cut wild mushrooms (think of Boletus sp.) with lemon. It contains ginger, though. Ginger seems to be a bit of chameleon to me, sometimes it smells like chocolate, sometimes like whoknowswhat... and there is indeed something mushroomy about it, which came to stand out in this fragrance. Or it's the contrast between musky base and aldehydes? I don't know.
Funnily enough, although myrrh can be smelled for a while after application, this is not a fragrance that would evolve around myrrh. Nor would I say that it's a typical cologne, the musky base renders it a bit heavy for something that could be used in large amounts in summer..
I'm of two minds here. If it were me, I'd rework it in two directions: get rid of that mushroomy undertone, cut the musks and leave citruses, aldehydes and myrrh, adding more myrrh. And, to the contrary, add musks, a touch of some warmer spices or woods, get rid of lemons and aldehydes to create a deeper forest fragrance. At this point, Myrrh Cologne is rather bizarre, it's not as if two distinct perfumes were layered as in Mark's previously reviewed All the Things (You Wanted), in this case, the two perfumes I sense in the blend would better be separated.
But I might be wrong - for me, early spring is not the right time for citrusy fragrances, I'd need a bit more sun.

The Perfumista Challenge - results. Part I.

I got a handful of samples, see:


The vials are from Pat of Olfactarama fame and the little bottles are from Mark known as Margin Perfumer (no website I'd know of. I asked Mark and he said he had none. I could try and search but first, he said he had none and I don't see a reason why not to trust him and second, I'm lazy).

I'll take the liberty to start with Mark's All the things (you are). I got a nice explanatory letter from Mark which lay on my table for two weeks, I re-read it many times and then I put it aside so that it wouldn't get stained by my endless cups of coffee and now I'm unable to find it. So, Mark said three noteworthy things: that the compositions are not necessarily to be considered finished, that large orders are welcome and that this one contains damascenones and galaxolide (and a handful of other things, I vaguely recall) methyl anthranilate and cinnamic aldehyde which react to something called Schiff's base, creating a strong and pervasive scent (1). Should be orange blossoms and thinking of it, it may be right, there's something that I call unripe strawberries for myself and what is orange blossoms to the rest of the world
So, it's musks and something green and rosy, with roses sans soap. I love roses as long as they are neither candy sweet nor soapy. I suppose I can say I love damascenones but I've never had the chance to meet one in pure form. Let's assume so.
The perfume is... well, I don't want to sound mean. It's like two perfumes put side to side. There's that musky base which reminds me of Annick Goutal's.... which one was that? searches frantically the samples at hand due to lack of willpower to stand up and go and look at the bottle which is three metres away yup, Encens Flamboyant which is glowing embers to me. All the things has this element, it's less of glowing embers and more of all-embracing warmth. Musks, those little buggers. And then there's another layer, separate and distinct, of not-exactly-roses. It might be roses but I'd have to go to the botanic garden to check which one exactly, it's not a generic rose. My synaesthetic brain bits now try to kick me in the shin by pusing an image of pink camelia in front of my eyes but... not that one either. A rose, that which just surrounds you on a dry cold morning. Not that sweet-smelling as the one at our porch. (2)
I'm somewhat inclined to say that this perfume needs to be worked on so that the two distinct qualities blend. Or communicate better, that's a more suitable description. But, before that, could I have a bottle, pretty please? Mark? Please? Because, I love it exactly as it is.

I'm afraid that I'm developing a depression. I might be more self-depreciating and, well, everything-depreciating than usual. Most likely, in the next few weeks before I resolve it somehow, I'll be writing about how crappy I feel and how the whole world sucks and that it's all my fault. I'll do my best to be civil. Have patience. No need to send booze and chocolate, I've lost my appetite too.

You were warned.


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(1) I don't know what is this all about. I'm paraphrasing Mark who kindly sent me a copy of the accompanying letter, allowing me to correct my imprecise description.
(2) Dorinia by Firmenich. See above. Damn chemistry, it has totally different poetics than the everyday associations.