Laura Donna Launches at Grand Bridal Show

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New Perfume is Pleasure Posts - But Not Here

Dear Friend -

You are an early follower of my blog, Perfume is Pleasure. The blog lives and grows, but on a technical platform I'm told will have greater synergy with my website, http://lauradonna.com.

Please go directly to http://perfumeispleasure.com to read: "Perfume and Physical Attraction."

Thanks!

Laura

Michael Edwards' Fragrance Wheel

Take a tour of the fragrance families. This is an excellent first step toward identification of the scents you are most likely to enjoy. Michael Edwards, creator of the wheel below and the world's foremost expert on fragrance classification, generously invited me to share his work with you.

Click -- it's hot!

Fragrances of the World, 2009, copyright © Michael Edwards.
All rights reserved. Used with permission.

For The Pet Who Has Everything

Self indulgence has its limits. So when you've reached yours, think of others less fortunate. Those furry and hairy individuals lacking the means to obtain perfume and cosmetics you take for granted.

I remember my amusement over last year's launch of Juicy Criture. OK, my horror, but tinged with amusement. A friend who promotes Liz Claiborne scents including sister Juicy Couture line said she had just put on a Nordstrom event for cats and dogs. Creativity kudos to whomever first cooked up the notion of "dog nail pawlish."

Until quite recently, I assumed the beauty industry's interest in four-legged consumers was limited to household pets. But no! Fragrance is coming on strong in the large animal community. Sniffapalooza magazine now features Brandy and its creator Patricia Namm. Patricia's muse in designing the scent? A palomino horse by the same name. "Horses don't usually like perfume," Patricia told a group of fragrance enthusiasts at Sniffapalooza's New York Fall Ball. But this scent, "with its suggestion of distant fields, rolling aromatic meadows, apple and peach top notes and herbaceous heart notes" appeals to the horsey set, and most importantly, to Brandy himself.

Perfume for pooches. Perfume for ponies. Why didn't I think of that?

The discerning dog above is reticent about top notes of the L'Artisan Parfumeur scent presented for his approval at New York's exquisite Aedes de Venustas boutique. Attends le drydown, mon petit chien.

Finding the Perfect Scent - So What's the Fuss?

Most people don't know that much about perfume and cologne. Combine basic ignorance with any of the following:

• A scent that once thrilled, but now annoys
  
• A discontinued favorite
• Confusion morphing to outrage as we accept the reality that manufacturers tamper with the formula and eau de wonderful is now eau de just ok
• Discomfort with the department store scene
• The search for one's very first fragrance -- a potentially joyful but intimidating rite of passage at any age

Goodness knows Adonis and Aphrodite in the glossy perfume advertisement (you know, the three pager with no scent strip) are not spilling the juice in the bottle. Her face says, “You bore me to tears, but I can’t live without Brand X perfume.” His face says: “It’s the body, stupid, and Brand Y cologne.” A picture is worth one thousand words and precisely zero smells.

Actually, the words don’t help much either. Perfume Advertising Bingo (scroll down the page, you won't miss it) spoofs the futility of seeking guidance from industry promotions. At any moment in time, a fragrance manufacturer, advertiser or retailer may not be motivated to promote the scent that is Perfect for You. You suspect that it exists. But how to find it…

Fickle Fragrance Fashion

Hideous shoes on feet attached to otherwise fabulously turned-out people are sometimes perfect. We imagine that disgusting colors seem right, even those producing eerie flashbacks of refrigerators, Twiggy and Peter Max posters. Given repeated exposure to the latest look, ugly becomes beautiful. We succumb to groupthink and the Emperor is oh-so-chic, new duds or no.


Arguably, in the case of clothes, the mandate is visible, the standards, clear. We must have those perky, flouncy, unnaturally tight, loose, short, long, bright or dull items in the magazine. We all go along, victims and perpetrators of style. I get it.

What I don’t get is this: Why do so many fragrance shoppers ask for the latest thing? Hand-held computing devices get better. Medical technology gets better, notwithstanding the social and personal dilemmas that result. Admittedly, new aroma chemicals have created perfume possibilities that never existed before. But should we conclude that new, not-yet-improved and highly promoted fragrances are automatically superior to the rest? No.

Pause to consider the subset of folks noticing your scent who will enjoy it more or think better of you if this scent launched in 2008 instead of 2003 or 1956. Do they know or care?

The Music of Perfume - Michael Edwards Sings

For some, it is the pilgrimage to Grasse, for others, the Osmothèque. You readers without a long history of perfume obsession, consider the birth of a baby, sunrise over the Grand Canyon, falling in love for the first time. Am I making myself clear?

Mascara severely threatened, I dabbed gently as Michael Edwards begin his address to the large gathering at Sniffapalooza's recent Holiday Fête. Fragrance classification rapture. A peak experience for one lured out of corporate life to transform the way Americans buy scent, armed only with her nose, extraordinary concern for the happiness of others and Michael Edwards' Fragrances of the World.

It started in 2000 when a friend thought she could put me off talking about perfume by getting me to read about it instead. Marjorie, you failed. Thus began the tour through Chandler Burr's The Emperor of Scent, a biography of Luca Turin, with its goosebump provoking stories about a biochemist's first love, the smell of wonderful perfume. Burr's account of Dioressence, as heard in one of his many interviews with Turin, captivated me. The serendipitous mixture of a Miss Dior knock-off, in soap form, and the finest ambergris. Enthralled, I read about Turin's comment that a new fragrance reminded him of two-tone fabric shifting color in the light, and his subsequent discovery of the written brief (narrative blueprint for a new scent) including the very image of a fabric he described. Turin's lush prose describing scents, to me, was poetry more poetic than Poe.

I could blame my new career as a fragrance educator and coach on Burr and Turin, and I often do. It is Edwards, however, who should take the heat.

While fragrance critics and connoisseurs abound, only one chose to transform the overwhelming array of modern fragrances into a catalog indexed by scent name, by manufacturer, by intended sex(es) of the wearer, by fragrance family and by style ranging from fresh, "the most effervescent fragrances in a family," to crisp, "lively interpretations with a crisp accent," then on to classical, "balanced notes characteristic of the family," and ending finally with rich, "the richer, deeper fragrances."

Edwards saw the opportunity for manufacturers, retailers and consumers alike to match taste with juice. He understands and articulates every year, for a growing number of new launches (last year 800, now 1,000), the qualities that link and differentiate perfumes. While some retailers have invested in Edwards' books and software, I believe that the use of his work is only in its infancy. Edwards' classifications have boundless potential to increase the joy of perfume lovers everywhere.

But back to the ostensible topic for this post: Music and perfume. A growing trend in fragrance critique is to draw parallels between music and scent. Burr did this to the delight of a sell-out crowd at last week's New York Times TimesTalk. Turin has previously compared Shalimar to Chopin’s Nocturnes, Silver Iris Mist to Schumann’s Arabesque, Tommy Girl to Corelli or to Prokofiev’s First Symphony and Mitsouko to Brahms. Many other comparisons can be found in Turin's online and print opus.

I hadn't truly heard the music of perfume until Michael Edwards sung to me, a capella, the differences among lily of the valley, gardenia, rose and tuberose. In a falsetto, he began, "Diorissimo...the muguet," still high, but moderated, "Marc Jacobs...the gardenia," lower, "Paris...the rose," then finally, with deep resonance, "Fracas...the tuberose."

Standing ovation, of course. So maybe I was the only one actually cheering. Did you say Michael or Michelangelo?


Photo by Linda Gerlach, artist and former Wall Street executive turned fragrance designer - Love the Key to Life, her first fragrant creation