CB's Journal

Cradle of Light

I'm delighted to say that Cradle of Light (the 12th perfume in my Archetype Series) is back.  I've just reactivated it on the website.

I'm very pleased and, if I say so myself, quite proud of Cradle of Light.  It is in the original sense of the word a masterpiece.  Although it is a contemporary perfume, its composition is remarkably traditional and very French.  I also make it in a very traditional way almost entirely of natural materials that would not have been unfamiliar to an 18th century French perfumer. Indeed I'm always pleased when French people smell it here in the gallery.  They get it.

Cradle of Light is extremely complex and rather difficult to make.  Many of the absolutes it contains require quite a bit of work before they can be used in the perfume.  And many of its ingredients are actually perfumes within the perfume, blended and aged before they can be added to the final compound.  All this requires a great deal of skill and time.

Furthermore, many of the Absolutes I use in this scent are extremely rare and can be very hard to get.  That's what lead to Cradle of Light being unavailable on the website for such a long time - no available Jonquil.

Certain absolutes become rarer and rarer with each passing year - Jonquil and Narcissus among them and these are key ingredients in Cradle of Light.  And naturally their price leaps accordingly. At the moment, the Jonquil and Narcissus I use are neck and neck at around $18000 a kilo.  I understand this cost though.  These are very difficult flowers to extract and it requires an astronomical number of them to arrive at a kilo of absolute.   Of course synthetic versions of Jonquil, Narcissus and Jasmine are almost instantly available and a fraction of the price.  But these synthetics - however good they might be - are not at all the same.

The real is always so much richer, subtler and infinitely complex.  The real is ever-changing and always reflects the one who wears it.  The real is magical and the synthetic is dreary in comparison.  This is why, despite their enormous cost and shaky availability, I will always choose the real over the synthetic.  At least with this particular perfume...

I feel these absolutes deserve a good deal of respect.  Their rarity and the skill and persistence of those who extract them demand this.  These are not oils to be wasted or messed around with. They deserved to be properly appreciated. I suppose this is why I am exceptionally careful with this particular perfume - perhaps overly so.  But then I know it intimately.  I know what's in it and how very hard it is to make.  And this is why I'm always thrilled when people really get its point.

Cradle of Light is a marvelous perfume - elegant, hypnotic and serene.  There are few perfumes left in the world like it and these are not to be treated lightly.

Ellen & MIldew

I found out yesterday afternoon, that Ellen Degeneres spoke about one of my perfumes on her talk show earlier that day.  I should have known this was coming as someone from her production staff called here the day before in a swivet asking if we could somehow magically transport perfume from one coast to the other that same afternoon or if not where in Los Angeles were my perfumes sold?  My assistant directed this person to the list of stores on my website, mentioned the incident to me and I promptly forgot about it.  We had a great deal of work to get done that afternoon and I myself was in the middle of several things and in no mood to be distracted.

My memory was refreshed however when a media tracking service called my office trying to sell us clips from the broadcast.  Naturally I hadn't seen her show myself as a) I don't watch television and haven't owned one since 1998 b) I generally work during the daytime - and a fair portion of the rest of the day as well and c) as i said, I'd forgotten about it.

At first I was pleased with this idea.  I remember very much enjoying the Ellen show in ages past.  And i enjoyed her childlike approach to comedy which generally managed to find the positive in the perfectly absurd.  Also I thought she herself was most courageous in "coming out" as she did.  So I was very curious to see what she might make of my work.  My assistant found the clip from her show on line and I sat down to watch.  Well.  Talk about your unpleasant surprises.  Here's a portion of the transcript sent to me by the tracking service which doesn't really do the broadcast justice:

Ellen:  These names are real I promise you.  This is called "In the Library".  And this is how it's described.  (reading from back of perfume box) "Musty worn book with just a hint of mildew" Just a hint?  I am gonna wait for 100 percent mildew.  Or musty carpet.  And this one costs $65.  I know it.  I don't know why anybody would pay that much when you can get this for under $10.  (Much laughter from audience)

She also pretended to spray a bit in the air and smell it.  Naturally there was the comically exaggerated look of disgust, which again brought gales of laughter from her audience.  Ellen then claimed she didn't actually smell the perfume this time as she had already smelled it in rehearsal clearly implying that once was enough.  Howls again from audience.

I can't imagine that she actually had smelled "In the Library" before her actual telecast.  If she had, she'd have realized that "mildew" plays no part.  Or perhaps, Miss Degeneres is unfortunately suffering a form of phantosmia - and olfactory malfunction wherein odors are recognized but have no possible physical source and indeed do not exist.

Now I'm not really upset that she made great fun on one of my most popular (and personally much loved) perfumes.  It has always been and always will be my position that everyone is welcome to think what one likes about any particular smell.  No one has the right to tell anyone else what smells "good" or what smells "bad".  This is always a deeply personal and highly individual preference.  If Ellen didn't like the smell of "In the Library" so be it.  And I am the first to admit I have always been attracted to and have used rather a lot of the strange and unusual when it comes to smells in my perfumes or collection of accords.

But i am seriously annoyed that Ellen intentionally misrepresented the ingredients and the smell of this particular perfume to make her "joke".  "In the Library" contains absolutely NO mildew whatsoever.  In fact, its notes are clearly listed on my website as being: English Novel from a Signed First Edition of one of my very favorite novels, Russian and Moroccan Leather Bindings, Worn Cloth and a Hint of Wood Polish.  Furthermore, that's what they are too.  No mildew.  Not then.  Not now.  Not ever.  Not in this perfume.

Now in truth I do mention "mildew" in the story (the brief) that inspired this particular perfume on my website.  But it should be clear to everyone capable of reading that this is NOT the description of the perfume itself.  I have indeed noticed that different books from different places and periods of history have very different smells.  I can often tell books that have lived in libraries where pipes or cigars were regularly smoked.  I can tell books that have come from humid places, which gives an extra "musty" scent to the pages.  And different bindings to indeed smell very different - the glues, the various cloths or leathers all have very unique characteristics which, to my mind, give an extra dash of personality to an otherwise mundane object.  And yes, occasionally if a book has had the misfortune of being very poorly kept, I can detect perhaps a faint whiff of mildew.  But this is NOT part of "In the Library".

To many of course, these various bookish odors mean nothing - and might very well be interpreted as unpleasant.  But to an avid collector like myself, these smells are as magical as the bouquet of a great wine to a connoisseur and are as intoxicating as the most beautiful perfume.  And whenever I sit down with a favorite volume, I open it, breathe in and just like Proust with his madeleine and lime flower tea, the floodgates of memory are opened and the heart begins to sing.

I rarely read the copy that inspired English Novel - the principal note in "In the Library".  I happen to have five other unsigned first editions of that same book which i take in turns to read.  I keep the original carefully wrapped to preserve its smell.  But now and again, I do unwrap it, open it and breathe in.  And each time I am transported...

Then I remember vividly the day I found it in London.  I was browsing through the bookshops in Cecil Court, a tiny cobbled lane that opens off the Charing Cross Road.  I can see the sheen of rain on the cobblestones, the window and doorway of the shop and the polished brass of the door handle.  I remember the shoes I was wearing and the cut of my suit although I confess I cannot now remember its fabric (navy wool crepe I think but I can't be sure).  But I do recall the face of the man who nodded to me when I said, "Good Afternoon", (bored as he glanced up from his own reading) and i remember the layout of the shop's interior and the exact look of the shelves when I began to browse them.

And I can remember the exact position of the Novel in Question on those shelves.  I had to reach slightly up and to the left.  It was just a bit higher than my head and it caught my attention because of its bright yellow binding.  I pulled it off the shelf and it took me a moment to realize what I was holding.  Indeed it took my brain several seconds just to process the title.  I couldn't believe it!  My heart beat faster as I turned to the colophon and realized this was indeed a first edition!  And thirteen years later, I can still feel the spinning faintness in my head when I realized this book had been signed by its author.  This was something of a miracle.

This book is an obscure novel by Compton Mackenzie entitled "Extraordinary Women".  I'd first read it in a paperback reissue by the Hogarth Press in 1987.  The introduction stated that only 2000 copies were originally printed, 100 of them had been signed by the author and the book itself was promptly banned in England.  Its story tells of the very comic misadventures of a group of lesbians on Capri during and shortly after the First World War.  These characters are largely based on real and sometimes famous people that Mackenzie himself knew or observed during his own sojourns to that island.  Why it should have so struck my fancy then or why it would have become such a favorite of mine since, I really can't say.  Obviously this falls into the category of things whereof the heart has its reasons but of which reason knows nothing.  The point though is that I love this book deeply.

So when i found one of those rare signed first editions those many years ago, I nearly pass out.  To an avid collector of books, this was like finding the Holy Grail at a flea market or an unknown Van Gogh in the attic.  I managed to maintain at least a degree of composure and as casually as I could, I asked the shopkeeper its price (40 pounds).  I paid, bid farewell, left the shop and probably did a little dance in the street outside.  I know it was one of the happiest moments of my life.  The smell of this volume always has and I hope always will remind me of that rainy, dreary, chilling but terribly thrilling afternoon when I was so happy.

I have always loved books.  I am told this was the case even before I could read on my own and was read to by my mother.  As a child, they provided a fantastic escape from a rather dreary daily life as well as a rich and rather precocious vocabulary.  As I grew older, I began to read voraciously and when I was about 12 and earning a bit of money on my own, I began to buy them.  (I can tell you virtually which was the first.  I still have it and I can still remember the clear summer sky and the smell of mown grass as I browsed through it while my mother filled the tank of the car at the service station near our house in Pennsylvania but this is beside the point>)

As an adult in New York my reading increased further (despite college) and I began to cover a wider groups of topics - a rather peculiar group perhaps but fascinating to me nonetheless.  Now I can say that reading has been perhaps the most important element of my life.  So much of who I am, what I've discovered and what I know began with a book.  Indeed even being a perfumer began for me in the main reading room at the New York Public Library.

Of course my deep love of reading books is exactly what lead me to begin capturing their scents and the smells of the libraries where they live in the first place.  I've worked quite hard over the years on these particular odors and am extremely pleased that one of my most popular perfumes happens to be "In the Library".  It delights me more than I can say that there are so many others - across the country and around the world - who share and understand my passion for books.

But apparently not Miss Degeneres.  And one might understand why I'd be very hurt indeed to have this passion for books and for reading made the butt of a cheap joke.  Especially when the joke is based on something that doesn't in fact exist.  And of course it is enraging to see anything one has worked so very hard on and which has given such great pleasure to so many basically slandered on national television.  And to have it done so intentionally and with such ignorance simply adds insult to injury.  Yesterday was not a good day.

If i had in fact used "mildew" to accomplish this particular perfume, I wouldn't have been upset in the least.  I'm the first to admit I've used a great many extremely odd smells in many of my perfumes - Dirt, Burnt Rubber, Whiskey, Ink, Glue and yes, on occasion, even Mildew.  And I'd be the first to defend the use of such strange smells.

Few know as well as I the pleasure these bizarre odors can give.  I've spent the majority of my career watching the faces of those who encounter my work.  I've seen looks of astonishment, delight, even tears of joy all caused by what many would consider "things that stink".  But I know why this happens.  I have always understood instinctively and implicitly the connection between smell and feeling.

That smell sparks memory is a misconception.  Memory is evoked because sense of smell records the emotions we feel during the experiences of our lives.  But this rarely happens consciously.  When we encounter these smells again, emotion is triggered and the memory returns.  The memory is an afterthought created by the emotion itself.  I've read a good many studies that bear this out.

And I've always known that sometimes the odd odor, the weird smell, the strange scent is just the thing that will open a certain mental vault, the past comes flooding back and we are caught by long forgotten feelings.

I remember a conversation long ago with a woman who finally and somewhat reluctantly revealed that her favorite smell in all the world was the smell when she first turned on the air conditioner in her beach house when she opened it for the summer each June.  She described it as musty and fusty but her that smell meant three months of total freedom and relaxation in the place she loved the most.  She had no idea what it could be about that strange smell that gave her such joy nor could she identify what it might be.  But I could.  I knew it was the odor of mildew that had accumulated in the filter of the air conditioner over the winter mixed with a bit of salt air.  To many a stench but to her a great joy.

I've heard similar stories countless times over the years.  The smells of gasoline, paint thinner, WD40 mixed with cigar smoke, musty basements, old clothes found in attics, wet animals, stables, even the odor of skunks a long way off on a summer evening have all been described to me by those with a longing look and a certain smile.

So to me, these weird odors have always been terribly important and that's why I capture them and that's why I use them in my perfumes.  They speak of the life we've lived, the life we have now, the life we sometimes wish we had.  Life is full of great beauty but it's full of the odd, the unpleasant and the strange as well.  We may overlook these things but they are just the things that make life so rich and meaningful.  These are the things that can so unexpectedly hit us where we live and which crack the heartstrings.  It is because these are the things that make life real.

I'm sorry Miss Degeneres is too obtuse to realize this.  Or perhaps she's more concerned with getting a cheap laugh.  Making the joke becomes more important that genuinely commenting on life and experience.  Why bother to stop and think about something or try to understand before trashing it?  Running something down is so very simple and sadly so popular in modern culture.  Ignorance is so safe and comfortable.

Naturally I'm still extremely angry about Miss Degeneres' slurs against "In the Library" broadcast yesterday and now all over the internet but i'll deal with that somehow.  As, for Ellen herself, well, sucks to be her.  All I could suggest is that she hire a few fact checkers who actually know how to do their jobs and perhaps take two minutes to make sure of what she's talking about... 

Tis the Season

I'm really not sure how it happened, but now it's December 1st.  Of course I should have seen this coming since I am informed Thanksgiving was last Thursday.  Of course I should have seen that coming too but I was in Canada at the time so missed the turkey this year...

But I should also have been better prepared for December since we made our annual batch of Gingerbread just before I left.  And that only happens once a year just before December starts.  I like this scent.  Very much in fact.  It's spicy but subtle, and so delicious on the skin.  And this year, I've done something with the Limited Edition Gingerbread that I haven't in years past - I made it up in Water Perfume as well.  I must say I prefer this scent best in Absolute when it warms on the skin but I've also discovered there's something very attractive about its scent wafting from sweaters.  Very warming and most comfortable.

So even though I know the next few weeks are going to be absolute chaos, at least I'll have a little Gingerbread to make me happy.  And of course at the end when I'm really ready to go face down, I'll be on my way to the farm to see my nieces and nephews and the rest of the family.  That I'm looking forward to. 

J'adore Montréal

I love Montréal.  I find it to be a fascinating city with so much creative energy.  The people are charming and the food is terrific.  I've had the best time every time I've visited and frankly I hate coming back to New York.

As for the bookshops they are the best.  I can't think of any city outside England with so many bookshops of so many kinds.  I love browsing at Mona Lisait, Volume, and Bouquinnerie du Plateau on Mont-Royal.  And I can and have spent hours at Archambault and Renaud-Bray.  This is a very short list of my favorite libraries.  In fact, I've had to get a slightly larger suitcase because every time I've visited Montréal, I somehow wind up with at least 40 pounds of books.  This puzzles the customs inspectors at the US border but that is not my problem...

In any case, I'm extremely pleased that this week I'm going to be expanding my presence in that city.  Commissaires on the Blvd St Laurent will shortly be the only store in the world to stock the full collection of CB ready-to-wear perfumes.  Apart from my own gallery here that is...  We've sent off the first shipment which should be arriving there any minute now.  And through the fall, we'll be adding more to that collection.

I'm very happy to be at Commissaires.   It's an excellent design gallery full of fascinating objects.  Pierre has an exceptional eye and a distinct talent for finding the astonishing and unexpected.  I've yet to see one of his shows or to visit his gallery without having to keep my wallet firmly shut.  It is necessary to remind myself that i really haven't the space in my studio for all these brilliant things.  Well c'est la vie.  One day...

I'm also very happy to have more of my perfumes in Canada as I sincerely hope this will make things easier for all my Canadian clients and customers.  UPS rates from here to there are extremely high and that company will insist on charging a perfectly outrageous "brokerage" fee simply to transport a small package across the border.  And unfortunately we've found the US mail to be highly unreliable.

But now, people from Canada will be able to order FROM Canada.  They can simple contact Commissaires and have what they want sent to them.

Naturally I'm also delighted as this gives me a really great excuse to visit Montréal much more frequently!  Like in October...

November

This is just one book by Tove Jansson that, when I first read it as a child, I didn't enjoy.  It was far too melancholy for my young taste.  The story concerns a group of people who come together unexpectedly one November at a small house in a valley beside the sea.  They come with fond memories of summer days spent on the shore, sitting quietly amid blooming flowers and, most especially, they remember the kindness of those who lived there.  They come seeking comfort and solace from the family whose house this is.  But the family has gone away and now the house is abandoned, dark and musty.  Now in November the valley is filled with rain, chilled air and the scent of decay.

These people are thrown off by the family's absence.  They are puzzled, upset and sometimes angry.  They quarrel and they sulk.  But, hopeful the family will soon return, they decide to remain and, slowly but with difficulty, they come to terms with the fall, with each other and with themselves.

As I read this book now many years later, I realize this is a fascinating character study and quite a subject to tackle in a children's book.  There is no adventure here - only feeling and reflection.  Now I can marvel at how well Ms Jansson tells her tale.  I suppose that now I have the experience to appreciate her story, these characters and their feelings...

For decades November depressed me.  As the year died away, I too longed for warm green grass, long summer evenings spent with friends outdoors and the sight of fireflies twinkling in the woods.  the days became shorter and colder and i would become more and more gloomy.  This feeling would never really leave me until the first snow fell.  Sometimes that was a long wait...

But i have learned to embrace November and find comfort in the beauty of decay.  I have come to realize the warmth I long for is still there - but it has taken other forms and it has changed just as I have.  Change is inevitable and although I am still sometimes sad as the fall deepens,  I know there is much to look forward to.  The coming snow will being the warmth of family and friends.

So now on rain chilled November afternoons, I am content to sit quietly and wait... 

The Scent:

Pumpkin Pie, Fallen Apples, Bonfire, Wood Smoke, Dried Grass, Fallen Leaves, Wet Branches, Damp Moss, Chanterelle Mushrooms and a hint of Pine Forest 

New Perfumes

After a few weeks of gorgeous weather, today is rainy, chilly and dreary.  I'm never at my best during such weather  - except strangely when I'm in England.  Maybe it seems more normal there I really don't know.

At any rate, I spent a lot of spare time over the weekend working on the labels for 2 new perfumes.  And this morning I've been prodding myself to finish them.  Not easy when I find it so hard to simply stay awake...

But now they're finished as are the 2 new perfumes they'll shortly be on.  Frankly I'm excited!

The first perfume will be added to my Metamorphosis Series.  It was inspired by a passage toward the end of Chapter Six of one of my favorite E M Forster novels.  Here's a bit:

"She did not answer.  From her feet the ground sloped sharply into view, and violets ran down in rivulets and streams and cataracts, irrigating the hillside with blue, eddying round the tree stems, collecting into pools in the hollows, covering the grass with spots of azure foam.  But never again were they in such profusion; this terrace was the well-head, the primal source whence beauty gushed out to water the earth.

Standing at its brink, like a swimmer who prepares, was the good man.  But he was not the good man that she had expected, and he was alone.

George had turned at the sound of her arrival.  For a moment he contemplated her, as one who had fallen out of heaven.  He saw radiant joy in her face, he saw the flowers beat against her dress in blue waves.  The bushes above them closed.  He stepped quickly forward and kissed her."

I've long loved that passage in this novel as well as its counterpart in the Merchant Ivory film - although I've always been sad that nature didn't oblige the filmmakers by providing that deluge of violets.  They had to make due with barley and field poppies.  But the point of this passage, and the reason I love it so, is what it represents: the moment when one simple beautiful gesture can transform an entire life.

That's why I chose to include this particular perfume in my Metamorphosis Series.  And naturally, it will be called "A Room With A View".  It is the scent of the hills above Florence - the vineyards, the wild grass, the finocchio, the hot dusty Florentine earth.  And of course, a torrent of Violets.

The second perfume is an Amber blend.  I've always loved this particular incense and have worn and used it a lot over the years.  And bizarrely, my own name is derived from the ancient Latin word for amber although at some point through the centuries, we managed to loose the "am". Recently, I decided to rework a version of an amber scent that I'd been wearing myself for a while.  I blended a few types of real amber with cistus, labdanum and benzoin (among other natural resins) and arrived at a perfume that seems to crackle and smolder on the skin.  Naturally I love smoky incense scents but this one is particularly delicious.  And it will be added to the Reinvention Series and will be called simply "amBrosius".

We're in the process of compounding both these perfumes and should have them in the gallery by the weekend.  And I hope to have them on the website sometime in very early August.  It might seem somewhat strange to introduce an Amber scent in the middle of summer but frankly I love them on a hot summer evening.  Perhaps it's memories of camping as a child but I find there are few things more appealing than the delicate waft of a rich smoky scent...

At any rate, those are the two new CB perfumes that are about to appear.  As soon as I'm back at the end of July, I'll keep working on the others. 

Violets

I have been thinking about violets a lot lately.  In fact, for several months.  These have always been among my favorite flowers and my favorite smells.

Of course I have a violet perfume in my ready-to-wear collection already - Violet EMPIRE.  This was inspired by a chapter I read ages ago of Diane Ackerman's marvelous book, A Natural History of the Senses.  I loved her writing on the Empress Josephine and why violet was her favorite perfume...

Sometime last fall (I think it was) I smelled Violet EMPIRE again and realized something about it.  While it's a lovely smell and one I truly love myself, it wasn't quite right - it didn't truly fit its name.  I realized it was the wrong period of history and had much more to do with ancient Crete than it did with early 19th century France. Perhaps it's because I was reading The Bull From the Sea by Mary Renault at the time which is all about Theseus's adventures in the Labyrinth of Minos and later on in Athens.  I realized the scent of Violet EMPIRE was really much more an ancient Minoan smell...

So through the course of the spring, I've been working a lot with Violets.  I think I've finally created one the Empress would be pleased with as well as a lovely Florentine violet.  So, as soon as I'm finished tinkering with those formulas, I expect to be adding two new violet perfumes to the collection.  The existing Violet EMPIRE will be renamed, one of the new Violets will replace that and the third will be added to the Metamorphosis Series.

And, as i was working on Violet EMPIRE, I did a fourth variation that I like as well.  But it's much more Victorian or perhaps Edwardian and I'm not really feeling those periods of history at the moment.  So perhaps I'll hold that one until later.

Incidentally, this "smelling through the ages" might seem strange to a lot of people but this is how my mind works. And it is perhaps one of my greatest gifts - the ability to truly smell that which can never be known... 

Accords & Ingredients

It has been brought to my attention that there is a rumor going around that I am discontinuing the CB Individual Accords.  I'm not.  However, there are certain ones in the archive that are temporarily unavailable and a few that may well have to be permanently retired.  This is due to my inability to find certain raw ingredients that are necessary to make them.  I have found over the years, this is a perpetual dilemma - especially for the small independent perfumer.

i work with a great many strange and unusual materials both real & synthetic, and unfortunately I've discovered that these things often become very hard to find or have completely gone the way of the Dodo.  With natural materials such are certain essential oils or absolutes, they may go away because producing them becomes too expensive to be generally commercially viable.  A few years ago, one of my very favorite essential oils - Bourbon Geranium - disappeared off the face of the earth.  I was told that the Island of Réunion decided to stop distilling altogether.  Apparently they were more interested in developing a tourist trade...  For a short while I was both frantic and heartbroken.  Bourbon Geranium is an oil that I have used pretty much since Day One (it was the major ingredient in my very first public perfume) and I'd been using it as a key ingredient in several other CB perfumes as well. Of course the world is full of Geranium oils but to my nose, none of these had the same crisp greenness of the Bourbon. Fortunately though, I found a similar essential oil of Geranium from Madagascar.  It's close enough to work but there's slight difference that perhaps at this point, I am the only one who remembers...

And a while back, I had to pull my 12th Archetype perfume "Cradle of Light (white flowers)" from the website because I couldn't find the necessary Jonquil Absolute to compound it.  Fortunately a few weeks ago, I was able to find more - which should be arriving here in a few weeks - but it was ASTRONOMICALLY expensive.  Still i will now be able to make more of that perfume and hopefully have it back on the website by early fall - it's an extremely complex formula to compound and the absolutes are very tricky to prepare - this all takes time.  Still I'm shooting for September...

Synthetic materials can be almost more of a dilemma than natural ones - especially "new" or "very strange" aromachemicals.  Manufacturing aromachemicals is a HUGE and highly competitive business and like any business it is largely driven by what the market wants as well as what the shareholders expect.  The major houses create countless molecules annually but only a handful make it to market.  And frequently, those that don't perform well sales-wise will be suddenly discontinued.  I've found those tend to be the oddball molecules that I find very useful in creating the scents of strange objects or foods and without them, the scent will not ring true.  I've also found that the major manufacturers of aromachemicals will sometimes discontinue certain materials because they've created something "new" "improved" and "better".  Naturally they feel they need to do this in order to have more to sell in a calendar year.  This is understandable but what is maddening about that process is that even a tiny variation in the odor of a molecule can radically alter a given scent and again, I lose the reality of the original.

But this is the way perfume and the making of perfume have always been.  Things must change.  Even a great perfume like Shalimar will be forced to change its formulation over the decades to the point that what it was when it was introduced in the 20's bears little resemblance to the perfume as it exists now.

As for myself, there are a great many accords that I originally worked on back in the mid 90's that have undergone a radical change.  I have never been afraid to improve things.  When I opened my doors here in July of 2004, I realized that what smelled good as "fresh cut grass" or "tomato vine" in 1997 could be INFINITELY better now.  So I redesigned a good portion of my accord collection.  This is something I still continue to work on and always will.

But i completely understand how upsetting it can be for my clients and customers to suddenly not be able to have a favorite smell.  After all, few understand as well as I do just how powerful our emotional attachments to certain scents can be.  And it's extremely upsetting for me every time I am forced to retire a scent from the Accord collection - it's like completely losing touch with an old and dear friend.  Of course I do everything possible to prevent that from happening and my assistants and I spend hours scouring every possible source for the necessary bits and pieces.  But sometimes they're gone and what's gone is gone.  Change must happen.

I think more than any other, perfume is the art that most demonstrates the concept of change within the context of life - it is powerful, it is often profound and it is inevitable...

But still, I will continue to rework those accords that have been temporarily retired (at least I HOPE it's temporary) from the main Accord Collection.  I can rarely say when a certain scent might be back.  There are SO many variables and my position has always been and will always be "a scent is finished when it's finished".

Hopefully some of my scents like "porcelain" won't be finished for good! 

Lapse

I haven't been writing much here or anywhere else for that matter lately because I am in process of quitting smoking.  Writing is a trigger for me and I find it EXCEEDINGLY difficult to sit at the computer typing away without also puffing away.  So, I've been trying to avoid it as much as possible.  Avoiding triggers during at least the first four weeks of the quit is critical.  So I've been declining invitations where I know people might be smoking, avoiding situations that would normally make me "tense" and I've warned most friends and colleagues that I am quitting therefore I could blow at any moment.

I began trying to quit this year (again) in February and have been struggling with this damn addiction ever since.  February & March were ridiculous but in April I joined a Smoke-Free Project group which prepares one to quit, establishes a plan for doing so and provides an enormous amount of much needed encouragement and support. This is all fine and worked well pretty much until this morning when I just had a lapse.

I had to go to the market to pick up some supplies and on my way there I noticed a good many smells.  The wooden water tank company on the next block was sawing wood and it had the most marvelous bitter scent of galbanum.  A little further on, I was struck by the odor of new oak leaves and the difference between their scent and those of other trees.  Once I hit Bedford Avenue, I began picking up food smells from the cafés & restaurants I was passing and it was all good - especially the smell of fresh brewing coffee which I don't really drink anymore.  Noticing these marvelous smells was a big change for me from recent outings when I was pretty much only aware of the horrible smells one encounters daily in New York.  I have a terrifically sensitive nose and even when I am smoking I can smell a lot of things that others can't.  When I am not smoking however, I swear I can smell EVERYTHING - especially odors that are frankly appalling.  I don't know what the olfactory version of "blinding" is but that's what it's like.

Now when I left the studio to go to the market, I was on the point of exploding.  Since I am basically two weeks into my quit, I am still very much in the middle of the stage where the subject experiences intense mood swings and can be meek & mild one minute and raging like Godzilla on a visit to Tokyo the next.  This is not pretty to watch and certainly most unpleasant to experience first hand.  While the group has been very helpful in providing tips to deal with these wildly changing moods, the addiction very cleverly makes the subject feel that the ONLY thing that is going to prevent the head from going Super Nova thus laying waste to the Tri-State Area is a cigarette...

Thanks to the group and the wonders of modern psychotherapy, I've managed to identify my triggers and I know precisely what I expect cigarettes to do for me.  Since I formally quit two weeks ago, I have had very little trouble in not responding automatically to triggers and no longer feel the necessity to light up after meals, when I'm bored, having drinks with friends or simply lying around in the evening.

Mornings on the other hand are an entirely different matter - ESPECIALLY work day mornings like today.  I've long known that I smoke far more in the morning than at any other time of the day.  This was confirmed by a group exercise where we listed every single cigarette we puffed during a 24 hour period from the very first upon waking to the very last before bed.  On the average work day, I had four within half an hour of waking - one while waiting for the water for tea to boil, one while the tea was steeping and then two with the first actual cup.  On higher stress days (and who doesn't have those on a regular basis in this town?) I could get through an entire pack before the clock struck noon.

Since I quit, the morning hours have seemed frequently impossible to get through.  I've found myself either hyper-actively bouncing off the walls while raging over nonsense or feeling completely lethargic and unable to concentrate on anything.  During the latter periods, I can wander around here like a character out of Edward Gorey misplacing small but important objects that I will most certainly need in future but will no longer remember where I'd put them and then staring out the window at absolutely nothing while the tea from my cup dribbles on the floor.  This can go on for hours.

The really annoying thing for the subject who is now "smoke-free" is that the emotional swings are unpredictable.  One never knows when the volcano might blow. Also it frequently seems that the urges grow weaker & weaker but then suddenly for no real reason the subject is again on the verge of insanity.  This is all EXTREMELY irritating. 

Of course I've been using nicotine patches & have also been sucking nicotine lozenges like crazy.  While these definitely help, unfortunately they do not completely silence that insidious voice in the head that constantly says "the only thing that's going to make you feel better is a cigarette so go ahead".  That voice must be dealt with in a different fashion and yelling "SHUT THE FUCK UP" at the top of the voice does little but cause looks and get certain pedestrians the hell out of your way.

I've found that when the lozenges aren't enough that simply doing something completely different in those moments is extremely effective at calming the "overwhelming" urge to light up.  I take a walk with or without dog, go to the gym, or simply get the hell away from the computer.  I've also developed a sort of "art therapy" approach where I simply change my seat in the studio, pick up a sketch book and doodle for a bit.  And with all these techniques, I've found the urge generally passes pretty quickly.

Still there are mornings like this one.  I try that stuff & still I'm raging around like something out of the Book of Revelations.  So when I decided to take a walk to the market to pick up the stuff, I did so thinking that getting out & having a walk might do the trick.  Well today, it didn't.  As I was checking out, the clerk (who knows me) asked if I wanted a pack of cigs & without really thinking I automatically said "Yes." 

So I smoked one on the walk back and another when I got back to my computer to try to finish today's email.  As I was pulling out a third, I suddenly wondered what the hell I was doing and yelled for my assistant.  I told him to take the rest of the pack, rip it up into tiny little pieces and then take it out & dump it in the nearest public trash bin.  Which is what he did. 

I am not terribly happy about this.  However, I now know full well that guilt or self-blame aren't going to do a damn thing.  So I'm going to fall back on the relapse plan & spend the rest of the day taking care of me.  "Taking Care Of Me" is I am told one of the key components in dealing with nicotine addiction.  It is however for a great many people (including me) not the easiest thing to do.  It takes a large sized attitude adjustment & quite a lot of practice.  And it can be especially difficult to do if one has a lot of others things that "must" be done "right this minute" as well like running a business.

Still it is vitally important and that's why I haven't been writing so much the past few weeks and it's also why the spring perfumes are slightly behind schedule.  They'll all get done at some point when I've gotten through this stage and am feeling reasonably stable again.  In the meantime, the main priority is to make sure I'm well. So, as soon as I've clicked "save" here, I'm going to pack up & head to the gym.  After that, I may well take myself out to lunch & a movie.  I hear the new Star Trek is very entertaining. 

Women with Style

I just received a letter from a friend.  She's traveling abroad at the moment and though she's having a good time, she's still clearly not happy with the local style.  She's a designer herself so she notices these things.  She mentions "walking through 3 million women dressed as prostitutes" trying to find some local cuisine but all she could find were "about 5 macdonalds and a couple of kfc's".  This mind you is in a country fairly renowned for its design sense and cultural traditions.

I completely feel her pain.  Over the past few years I've come to the decision that there are certain parts of New York that are to be avoided at all costs - particularly on the weekends.  The sidewalks are over-packed with men dressed as if they're about to paint the house or fix the lawnmower and women in clothes that are much too tight, much too short, and much too cheap.  They teeter along on stilettos which they clearly can't operate correctly.  Indeed as I watch them stumble along, I wonder if they're really accustomed to walking on two legs in the first place.

The meatpacking district in particularly prone to infestations by these people and I find it ironic that, back in my taxi driving days, this was a neighborhood where at night there was nothing but Florent, a few "special interest" clubs, and a flock of tranny hookers.  Based on the current dress sense of the women in this neighborhood today, I could easily imagine that the original hooker population somehow proliferated to extraordinary proportions except for the fact that back then they actually had more style and could walk on their heels.  Today when I walk through the meatpacking district I have the unpleasant sensation of suddenly finding myself in a third rate sophomoric comedy where a bunch of horny high school boys were able to magically animate a bunch of mannequins from "forever 21".  I'd wonder how much these women charge by the hour but i can't imagine it could be very much.  They look too manic or too bored to be the least bit attractive and all are exactly the same and perfectly interchangeable.  Still they manage to get dates - at least among the "frat" boys.  I find this intensely disheartening.  I know that for decades, fashion has taken its inspiration largely from the streets but this is ridiculous.  "Streets" are one thing, "streetwalking" is another.

I remember a time in New York when the city had a good deal more style.  I remember a time when each neighborhood had its own unique look.  Sometimes this was good, sometimes bad but the point is there was VARIETY.  Now the frat/hooker look is pretty much everywhere and clearly the epidemic is spreading through the rest of the boroughs.

Last evening in fact, as I was walking the dog, I ran across a young person working the tranny hooker look outside beacon's closet.  She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with her tube top pulled out staring down at her tits like she'd never seen them before, the entire time yelling, "WHA..?  WHA...? WHA...?" into her cell phone.

This might have been interesting as some kind of performance art but sadly this chick wasn't kidding. 

So today, that memory "fresh" in my mind, when I read my friend's letter, I couldn't help but think about women I've met in my time who had tremendous personal allure.  Isabel Toledo for example.

The first time I met her, I was working as a shop assistant at Barney's.  This was back in the day when that store was still on 17th street and the pressman family still ran riot there.  One evening when the store was habitually empty, Senora Toledo arrived with her husband.  She was wearing a full red skirt, a crisp white blouse cinched by a wide black belt and a black lace mantilla over her hair.  Of course the effect was that of a traditional Spanish lady, yet there was something terrifically modern about her look as well.  She is after all a brilliant designer and she looked fabulous.  And I do not use the "f" word lightly.

She was also carrying a beautiful black lace fan which was always before her face.  In fact I never saw her face in its entirety - merely her beautiful eyes sparkling over the fluttering rim of the fan.  Although I asked her numerous questions as I helped her to find what she wanted, she never spoke to me directly and I actually never heard her voice.  She simply leaned toward Reuben, shifted the fan slightly and whispered her reply to him which he then passed on to me. 

Now of course I recognize that such behavior is highly mannered and could easily be easily be extremely irritating not to mention insulting.  Yet I remember her as being one of the most captivating women I have ever met.  Her eyes, her manner, her look - all were perfect and I'd have gladly done anything she asked.  She played that fan as Yo Yo Ma plays his cello - as a unique and authentic expression of who she was.  That's style.

Perhaps the woman I've been lucky enough to encounter who had the most style was Diana Vreeland.  This was also back in my taxi driving days.  One evening, I knew there was quite a grand party taking place at the Guggenheim Museum.  I'd been driving people there all evening.  A lot of them were wearing very interesting clothes and I wondered what it was like inside at the party as I dropped them off.  But several hours later, I'd forgotten about it until I was flagged down by a man in a tuxedo in front of the Guggenheim.  He helped his wife into the car and then leaned forward and asked, "Would you mind waiting a moment?  We're waiting for my mother.  But please start the meter."  I didn't mind at all especially after hearing that last bit.  You'd be surprised at how many people expect cabbies to sit idly waiting for ages without having any inclination at all to pay for that time...

Anyway, we waited for a while until finally the wife said gently, "Perhaps you might go find her?  You know how your mother is when she's talking..."  The man smiled but then said, "It's OK.  Here she comes now."  I turned my head to look and was instantly struck still.

There floating across the pavement surrounded by a flock of men in tuxedos was a woman who was unmistakably Diana Vreeland.  She was wearing a sleek yellow satin sheathe that my guess would be Dior circa 1955.  It had a matching satin stole and matching yellow satin shoes.  White stones sparkled around her neck and at her ears.  She looked absolutely amazing.

Now Mrs Vreeland was no beauty certainly by that age.  But then she never was - that was the point.  But on this evening well into her 80's, she was dressed to kill and clearly fascinating a large group of men of all ages.  They followed her like puppies and hung on her every word.  I watched her as she slowly moved to the car.  She turned her head this way and that to chat with the men around her.  She leaned back against one of the men, tossed her head and laughed.  The men couldn't look away and neither could I.  I have never seen a woman move so elegantly (at least off the ballet stage) and more to the point, never have i seen a woman more alive.  She was so clearly having the time of her life and her joie de vivre lit all those around her.  Mrs Vreeland was perfectly magical and a good part of that magic was her style.  It was unique, it was flawless and it was as bright as the sun.

I think a lot of people today miss the point of Mrs Vreeland.  Nothing but a clothes horse obsessed with fashion.  I don't think this is true.  From what I've read of her and by her, I's say fashion was her business but her passion was style.  She understood absolutely that fashion is merely a tool and that clothes are dead unless they're worn.  It is never the clothes that are important but the life you lead in them.

Diana Vreeland stepped beyond fashion knowing that it is best used to express individual style.  She approached style as a philosophy - almost a religion until like Zen it permeated and informed every aspect of her life and became an authentic expression of who she was.  She's the one who inspired me to write many years ago, before i formed my first company, my own personal "style manifesto":

Beauty is an art

Art is a discipline

Discipline is a way of life

I think Mrs Vreeland would have liked those sentiments and perhaps would have approved.  I think back on copies of Vogue that I've looked at that were issued under her reign there.  God knows they were radically different in their approach than that sad publication as it exists now.  Of course there was a good deal of fashion editorial but there was always a hell of a lot more.  Mrs Vreeland explored the whole world.  She sought out so many other cultural ideas of what was "beautiful" and she shared them monthly with her readers.  As an editor, Mrs Vreelend never imposed - she expanded and more to the point she encouraged.  She encouraged women to be aware, to be adventurous, to experiment and to make the most of their lives.  This is hardly "frivolous" as many claim today.  Living your life is never frivolous.

So what's changed?  Why the crowds of basically identical hookers and the dreary boys they hang with?  I think back to a conversation I had a few years ago with Dianne Brill - the queen of New York nightlife back in the day.  I asked her what had changed - why were things so dreary now and so few clubs existed that were worth going to?  Her first response was "rent!"  Dianne is a very practical woman.  But I said there must be more to it than that.  There were still parts of the city where - like in the 80's - space was still relatively cheap.  But still nothing happens...

She reflected for a moment and than said to me, "Individuality was celebrated then."  And I knew she was right.  That's what changed.  I'm not certain where or why (although I have some ideas) so many people have lost their capacity to celebrate their own individuality.  No longer can they live their own special life and Go All the Way.  I think that's sad.  Especially when I am stuck in neighborhoods infested with hoards of soulless tranny hookers who have clearly set the women's movement back by at least 50 years.  I look at them stumbling along in their stilettos and I'm reminded of a quote from my favorite Compton Mackenzie novel.  To paraphrase, it runs like this:

Women have always dressed to reflect what men want them to be and if men want them to be hookers then I am sorry for what men have become. 

I'm not here to criticize.  As far as I'm concerned, people should make their own choices and must be allowed to go to hell their own way.  But I have always been here to encourage.  So while I would certainly love to see a great deal less of the tranny hooker look both here and abroad, I know there's no point in railing against in.

Instead, I'd like to encourage women (and in fact people in general) to step out of the herd and be once again adventurous, to try new things, to take a chance and Go All the Way.  I'd like to encourage them to open their eyes and have a good look around and appreciate all the gorgeous variety that's out there.  I'd like to encourage people to grow up, have some dignity, learn to age with grace and appreciate the wisdom that comes with experience.

But most of all, I want to encourage them, as I have always done, to express and to celebrate their own special INDIVIDUALITY.

I know this will take some time - as many things worth doing will.  But hopefully at some point in the not to distant future, this change in attitude will happen and I'll be happy again to venture out in public...