Oakmoss and Nadia Wagner at Cabinet

Some artists have begun to consider the use of the sense of smell in their work. One such is Nadia Wagner. As part of a new piece she has done on oakmoss, and its associations, she has used perfume materials and written (in Cabinet, an art quarterly) about the history of science's ambitious but essentially unsuccessful attempts to organize and classify smells. Scent is its own world, and it has yet to be uniquely described on its own terms.

The exhibition consists of an interior space containing the scent of oakmoss. She has wiped the interior walls of the gallery space with its scent, using the molecule Evernyl, which is a distinctive component of the extract of oakmoss. As she points out in her exhibition essay, the background smells -- of a decaying waterfront industrial space, lying fallow and revived for the uses of artists, are complex and both pervasive and less noticeable the more time you spend in their midst. We are becoming more aware of the power of the sense of smell on the mind and the body, while at the same time we note how recognition diminishes over the length of exposure. Indeed, as part of the experience of the installation, it is expected that you will comprehend that your ability to register the scent you are surrounded by diminishes the longer you are near it. Scent is always ephemeral, yet renewed by a pause and return. It connects the body and mind, the past and the present but it can only work for a finite period without a break. But once exposure is renewed, it reconnects the body and mind to its experience over time in an uniquely powerful way.

Her work with perfume and its qualities, legends and bodily effects has been grown in collaboration with and education gained from trained perfumers (such as Christophe Laudamiel). It is not surprising that she turned her attention to oakmoss. The element of oakmoss has an poetic, elegiac association for those who are interested in perfume. We know that it is a rare and proscribed material that has given a unique earthiness, edge and charismatic depth to classics such as Mitsouko. I happen to have some oakmoss absolute from Yugoslavia, have used it personally, and realize more than ever now that this is an increasingly rare and precious experience. How sad to learn from the exhibition article that the best remaining natural sources are unobtainable because they are located near the town of Chernobyl, and that the material has a tendency to soak up radioactive particles.

The exhibition is at Cabinet, at 300 Nevins Street, until August 8th. The Cabinet exhibition space is in an old warehouse on the Gowanus Canal, and their magazine is an interesting combination of literary and visual ideas, both intellectual and sensual. This exhibition article "Notes on Scent" is in issue 32, whose overall theme was Fire. Examples of the other issues' themes are Deception, Magic, Insecurity, Ruins, Chance, the Sea...

above photo from Urban Olfactics 1A/1B exhibition essay on Nadia Wagner.

Crazylibellule and the Poppies

Crazylibellule and the Poppies solid perfumes sticks are often carried in the really good old style independent pharmacies that carry lots of beauty products in NYC, such as New London, or Bigelow, as well as in Sephora, and it is really nice to have something simple yet so well made at such a reasonable price of about $18. They have no parabens, or artificial coloring, or alcohol, and the packaging is very pretty and ecologically benign. They are generous, so a perfume stick will last you through the summer at least. I like portable perfume, and these travel well. The scent holds very close to the body, comes on in a melting emollient base which feels like a waxy moisturizer. They are a mood lifting, pick me up for the summer work day, and also for the errands-and-gym routine of the weekend, because they are quite soft and don't throw scent far. They are more for personal or intimate enjoyment rather than for making a big public impression. They layer well also, with each other, or perhaps another simple summer cologne such as Roger & Gallet Gingembre. I can see them as appropriate for the very young or for any age, in a casual way.

Three new ones in the Les Garconnes Collection (which all feature a typically masculine fragrance note such as vetiver or guaiacum wood) are Rose a Saigon, Hommage a Gabrielle, and Tamara Charleston. They all three have a turn of the 20th century feel to them. What an interesting period of time that was; there was the beginning of the freedom of the modern age for women, while they were still formed by the softness of the past.

Rose a Saigon, inspired by French colonial Indochina of the twenties, has a humid rose/ylang and passion-fruit top with a light smokiness in the base, like languid cigarette smoke rising up in the conservatory. There is also jasmine, vetiver and a light patchouli.

Tamara Charleston makes me think of what the French idea of an old fashioned American Southern summer would be like. White floral, gin and lime, absinthe and hay, humid and green, the moment right before having that iced cocktail. Green madarine, peach and amber. The sepia of amber especially gives that twenties feel.

Hommage a Gabrielle is in honor of Coco Chanel, and it gives the sense of dense ivy drying down to incense. Cedar, peony, leather, elemi crystals (from a brazilian resinous tree) vanilla, jasmine and ozonic flower. It is softness pointed sharp by the cedar and ozone. The drydown is primarily woody incense with a touch of green ozone tang.

I must remember to keep the inner cap on the sticks, because they dry out otherwise.
These are fun and affordable yet very thoughtfully made small luxuries, made in France. From what I have read, it appears that spending is down on luxury goods of all kinds, but that is to be expected, especially after the amazing highs of recent prior years. All the more reason to be pleased with these well priced little indulgences.

I like the kohl rimmed eyes and the graceful, casual up-do of the lady above. This is a vintage image but she still looks very modern to me. If the rest of her showed tattoos and muscle tone she would fit right into downtown Manhattan or Brooklyn right now...

Neil Morris 2

I think people who get involved in perfume as an important part of their pleasure repertoire soon start noticing that it often also acts as a mood altering substance. At least the ones you love do. Once you start building up your physical/mental associations with different, oft-used components of scents, like labdanum (a ceremonial feeling) or jasmine (humid sweetness) or sandalwood (spaciousness and expansiveness) or tuberose (dizziness) or vetiver (warmth and dryness) you notice much more closely how they act on you. In a composition that works for you, these classics may be combined with new scent molecules, chemically created, that are like either a shade of color that is new to you, or a much heightened aspect of one you know well. It amazes me how different people can take the same, classic scents and combine them in different ways to come up with things that are so individual. I think Neil Morris compositions are grounded in a fluent personal vocabulary of perfume materials. I also sense the aspect of a person very well read in there, with many classical associations to history and literature and Nature (with a capital "N" as Van Gogh used to write it). Once you know your materials that well, you can play with them to come up with compositions that work on mood in an almost musical way.

There are ones that induce a sense of peace and others that burn up into an active and energizing atmosphere around you. There are ones that have a windy movement to them that give a sense of spaciousness.

It has taken me a long time to learn not to be completely swayed by the initial top notes or opening of a perfume, and then quickly make a snap judgment as to whether I like it or not. So many take time to unfold and reveal their real character on you. I had an initial mistrust of Coral, which seemed to me too fruity and sweet and melon-y and not my style. After ten minutes or so of pomegranate and fig though, it becomes something else, at least on me. The sandalwood, incense and musk are tripped and it opens out into a spacious and subtle, almost salty airy walk in the afternoon sun, in a peaceful settling down together of the sympathies between the sky and the ocean and the plants beside and between them. It's like the sun is shining down, and everything is fresh and clean.

Mystic Dragon is wood consumed by fire warming up and smoothing out on the skin to a buttery creaminess. That must be the chocolate note that underlies the amber, patchouli and smoke. Something to wear when you are really excited about going out at night, it makes perfect sense to me to find out that it was inspired by a Chinatown New Year's celebration.

Midnight Forest has an element that is new to me: nagarmotha, dry, woody, earthy indeed. There is an sense of the peace of a full grown woods, probably induced by the galbanum, myrrh and myrtle wood (an aromatic bay leaf scent).

I find Prowl very masculine, notwithstanding the honeysuckle and jasmine, because they are subsumed and absorbed by the black pepper and oakmoss and patchouli and civet. The amber unifies all and even so it has a cleanliness and understated quality, holding close to the skin. It would act as an enhancing transparent accessory rather than a featured performer competing for center stage. Somehow masculine scents are far better as this type of subtle/complex background, in my estimation. I think it must be the civet in the driver's seat (a re-creation I am sure) acting as a musk in the form of a clean skin scent.

Takashimaya, based on the tea house within the ultra refined Japanese Fifth Avenue store, has been well reviewed in the NY Times, so it suffices me to say that as a unisex fragrance it is that combination of restrained and sensual that works in both a casual and more formal sense, and projects a different image depending on if worn by a man or a woman. Beautiful in a solemn way on a woman, I would find it even more remarkable on a man because so unexpected in its sophistication and balance, like a glass of plum wine, drunk in the presence of incense with blooming narcissus and bamboo walls around you. The cedar note sharpens up the sense of smell like a pencil. It is exclusive to the store it is named for, and well worth a special trip just for that.

Neil Morris is as they say, ultra niche, and it takes some effort to seek his perfume out, either at Takashimaya or his website, but I promise it will be rewarding. I am glad he offers samples and a range of samples in a package. As I have said before, I wish there were some ultra sophisticated tea or coffee or wine bar that stocked his vault fragrances in NYC, so we could go there and try and choose something appropriate for the moment, in calibrated sizes. He does thankfully offer these as an affordable luxury in a one ounce size, for $70. They are true perfumes, and therefore lasting.

I am just happier knowing that there are people creatively experimenting, and discovering and expanding their own and our sensibilities through the sense of smell, and making things like these perfumes out there these days.

Above photo by me.
Lucy Raubertas, Evening Trees, 2009. I love that airy calm after the sundown breeze ends and the birds have settled down.