He Who Smelt It, Delt It - Further Elaborations of Perfume and What to do with It.

I think I might have an olfactory obsession, as this is my second post on fragrance, and I didn't think I'd ever really be writing about this subject.  But, rather than telling you how and what to buy, I'm going to tell you all the kinky and creative ways people scented themselves in days gone by.  Some methods are quite romantic, others, well, let's just say you'll never look at bacon fat the same way again. 

A Tomb painting depicting maids with perfumed cones
atop their wigs.  Also popular was the Blue Lotus, but
it was prizes for its narcotic properties rather than
it's perfume alone.

Neanderthals were known to adorn themselves with flowers to surround themselves with pleasant aromas, but our first ingenious deodorizing diatribe takes us to Ancient Egypt.  To combat the arid environment, the Egyptians (men and women a like) shaved themselves from head to toe.  For formal ceremonies, both sexes donned ornamental wigs (thus negating the effects of the previously mentioned full body wax) and if they were feeling frisky, false beards. To scent the air around them, Egyptians donned scented cones that sat on top of their wigs.  The cones were made of solid animal fat (tallow) fragranced with myrrh and would melt in the desert heat.  I'm not sure if this was also some sort of moisturizing treatment or round-about sunscreen protection, but...you know, when in Rome.    

Gloves dating to 1603 from the Victoria and Albert Museum.
Trimmed with silver lace, pearls and spangles, scenting
them was gilding the Lily.

Zooming forward in time we find ourselves in the Renaissance, when, despite being condemned by the clergy (no doubt because of it's association with prostitution and an all around good time), the perfume trade flourished during the Renaissance, so much so that Perfumers developed their own guild.  During this period, it was thought that the putrid scents which filled the air from plague, pollution, and general illness also carried contagious disease.  As a result, personal accessories began to be designed with compartments to house solid perfumes that would cancel out the foul smells and protect against infection.  Doctors walking sticks were made with decorative heads or handles that emitted a fragrance through perforated metal which masked the odors found in slums, hospitals, and mortuaries.  A solid perfume scented with herbs was contained within the hollow handle.

Gold, enamel and pearl pomander circa 1620-1640.
Victoria and Albert Museum.

In the 16th Century, the Marquis do Frangipani was the first to perfume kidskin gloves as other Nobles of Venice and Florence adorned garments and gloves with spherical scented buttons designed to be filled with a fragrant potpourri or solid perfume; its scent emitted though a filigree fretwork of silver.  Also popular during the Renaissance, and well beyond for that matter, was the Pomander.  A spherical charm worn suspended on a chain from the waist, when unlocked it opens into wedged segments like an orange, with each wedge compartment housing a different scented solid perfume.  As a note, while marvelously long-lasting, solid perfumes were historically made from Ambergris; a wax-like substance coveted by the cosmetic industry used not only for perfume but also pomades, powders, and cough drops. The fact that it is derived from Whale vomit or feces (either would do) was gleefully overlooked by the buying public.  We of course have synthetics for today's market.


A partial gilt silver pomander dating to 1350 from the Victoria
and Albert Museum.  A pin screw holds the hinged segments
together.



This may have been a love token, which a woman would wear
hanging from a chain at her waist.
The segments refer to the Judgement of Paris,
when he had to decide which of the goddesses Juno, Venus and Minerva
was the most beautiful. Paris chose Venus, here given the words:
"Venus is the loveliest, her claim is clearly just".

A 1778 painting of Marie Antoinette in a riding costume
with her scented gloves in hand.  Antoine Vestier.
Private Collection.

Galloping forward another 200 years, we land in pre-revolutionary France in the Court of Louis XVI and his number one schnitzel, Marie Antoinette.  Contrary to our notions about the French and their bathing habits, Marie, an Austrian by birth, reveled in her beauty regime and bathed daily.  Her baths were scented with floating sachets filled with blanched almonds, pine nuts, linseed, lily, and herbs.  Other sachets included bran, used as an exfoliant.  She scented her water with essence of Lavender and Lemon, and also used these oils to purify the air in her apartment at Versailles.  Marie adored her cosmetics and creams, and adorned herself with custom curated fragrances by court perfumer Jean-Louis Fargeon containing rose, violet, jonquil, tuberose, musk, and amber.  Fargeon also provided her with scented kidskin riding gloves treated with almond oil, white wax and eau de rose.  They were laid on a fresh bed of roses to dry after treatments, and kept her hands moisturized and smelling, well, like a bed of roses.  She was known to wear these when not riding as well.  Scented gloves and fans were the rage at court, not just because Marie wore them, but because of their practical use in warding of the remnants of whiffy Frenchmen in drafty palace halls. 
- Ian

Men's Cologne and Other Disasters

One of many fragrance counters at Nordstrom.

Last Christmas, I was at Nordstrom, standing in line to purchase a pair of driving gloves (I admit, they were for me.  Charity starts at home.) and while I waited my turn, I watched as a casual inquiry at the men's fragrance counter degenerated into a desperate transaction between buyer and salesperson.  From the look of it, an IRS audit would have been a more pleasant and beneficial experience.

From what I could infer, and I love to infer, a woman had stopped in to pick up something for her brother/father/grandfather (I'm assuming it was for a family member.  Usually, if it's for a boyfriend or husband, the decision on just how they should smell is rarely put to debate.) and things were not going well.  The woman was dumbstruck by variety and the salesman was being less than helpful by squirting strips of paper and passing them off to her like some sideshow card trick.  If he pulled a rabbit out of his pants I wouldn't have been surprised.  He did have a ponytail, after all. You know how ponytailed men are. 

Joan Crawford hawks 'Summer Rain' perfume to
Rosalind Russell in MGM's 1939 hit  The Woman.

The mushroom cloud of Dolce & Gabbana, Lacoste and Armani generated by the eager man with the trigger finger soon made its way to me and I found myself somewhere between a contact high and a migraine.  The pile of scented paper grew as he wove between the displays and I assume he had sptrized every sample they had on the floor, and possibly dipped into the bathroom air freshener, yet still our young heroine had made no headway in whether to buy Ralph Lauren Black or Guilty by Gucci.  I yearned to intervene, and tell her to just buy something by Burberry because you can't go wrong with Burberry, but I was unwilling to sacrifice my spot in line and I didn't want to interrupt.  Out of desperation, she eventually purchased a gift set the salesman was pushing and left. 

This is just here for Reference.  This is the
Perfume Hall at the old Bullock's Wilshire.
Look at all that floor space!  You can actually
walk in a straight line!

As a general rule, I never buy fragrance for others.  Scent is one of the most personal aspects of our identity, so unless I have a direct request to drag home a 5 piece gift set of Viva La Juicy, I'm not going to consider buying anyone anything that smells.  My primary reason for this is body chemistry; everyone is different, so just because it smells good in the bottle or on the salesgirl, it doesn't mean it will smell good on your loved one.  There's also allergies to consider, as well as personal taste; I have a good friend who just flat out doesn't like perfume, and on the flip side of the coin, I have a box on my Bathroom vanity that is crammed with cologne, because I love scent and how it can shape or reflect you mood.  So, maybe save yourself a headache and heartbreak and opt for a nice gift card.

Should you opt to go against my advice and insist on buying fragrance even though i told you not to, here's how to avoid the pitfalls.  Don't go in blind; know what your giftee already wears.  Steal the bottle or spray some on a card and bring it in with you.  Either buy more of the same (they can always return it or add it to the stockpile) or if you're feeling frisky, ask the salesperson what is similar to it and they should be able to find something along the same lines.  If even that fails you, then just ask the salesperson what is popular and safe and buy what smells the most conservative.  Gift giving should be a pleasure, not a terrifying experience or a Sisyphean task that will make you take up smoking again.

-Ian

Holidays en Fuego

Laura Mercier's Warm Roasted Chestnut Candle
is heavenly with Vanilla, Clove, & Spiced Berries.

I am a candle junkie.  I have ones I have yet to light, from last years after Christmas sales (Ralph Lauren's Holiday candles!!!), and yet I have also purchased new ones in new scents for this season (Bath and Body Works Fall Candles!!!).  I may have an issue, then again I may be a genius; who am I to judge?  I have tried to cut back, and really I think I have, but how can I resist the temptation of beautiful scented candles that promise to make my home smell like I cook all day and don't have dogs on the sofa?

The new Laura Mercier Holiday candles are not going to help my situation.  I just got an ad from Neiman's in my inbox advertising her new holiday gift collection.  I clicked it and up popped my old friends.  I first bought the Mercier candles, in all three scents, on sale from Nordstrom last Christmas.  I was not disappointed and while I secreted them away, I wanted to use them before the scent faded (a risk for candle hoarders; scents don't last forever).  Of course they're packaged as gifts; pretty metallic brown boxes with satin ribbons that open to reveal frosted glass cylinders the size of a Progresso can, but charity starts at home, right?



Creme Brulee is rich with Caramel, Vanilla Bean, and Sugar.

Mercier has two scents from last season, a Creme Brulee that is to die for, and a Roasted Chestnut that makes me was to drink the molten wax because it smells so good, and the new Tarte au Citron.  I'm going to go out on a limb and say it smells fantastic.  The unique scents are long lasting and just seasonal enough to convey that holiday feeling without bringing to mine disinfectant floor cleaner.  Frankly anything that doesn't smell like a cinnamon broom or scotch pine is perfect in my book. 

At $42.00 a crack, they make a classy hostess gift, a beautiful 'just because we're friends' gift, or maybe something for a frenemy you're trying to guilt or intimidate.  Personally, I'm going to wait until after Christmas when they'll be on sale, then indulge.  I'll be scouring the .com's to find them, and when I do, I'll pray for a happy new year, and free shipping.

-Ian

Tripping Out On Chopines: Eat Your Heart Out Lady Gaga



Venetian Women at their Toilet.  Paris Bordon c. 1545.
These courtesans would have undoubtedly been shod
in Chopines.  By the Renaissance, Venice has developed
a reputation as the epicenter for art and fashion.

Long before Lady Gaga stormed into our lives wearing death defying shoes and some glitter, Venetian women of the Italian Renaissance were teetering through flooded Piazzas in tricked out platforms that would make a 16th Century Gaga go gaga.

Chopines, as they are called, were elaborate platform slippers with wooden bases covered in tassels, lace, nail head, tooled leather and opulent silk and velvet.  While they may have originally been all about function (elevated shoes kept feet and hems dry during the wet season), like many everyday accessories they evolved to express wealth, taste and a certain amount of decadence.  Why wear wooden stilts when you could wear velvet wedges embellished with hand made silver lace and glass beads?  Perhaps Venice was the true birthplace of Carrie Bradshaw, and not New York.

Turkish Woman with Slave. Jean-Etienne Liotard 18th Cent.

Chopines were born in Turkey.  Thought to be the footwear of choice for harem girls, they became the fashion for elite women in Renaissance Italy and Spain.  They did serve a practical purpose in keeping the wearer from stepping in debris found in the gutters and streets around town and dirtying their feet and hem, but they also helped to make their owners literally stand heads above the rest.  The shoes could extend the wearers height from 7 inches to a whopping 30 inches, depending on the wearers equilibrial prowess and the height of the average doorway.  The added height also called for extra fabric (fine textiles were luxury items) for the mistress' gown; though the shoes were highly elaborate, fashion dictated that they should never be fully exposed.  The shoes remained hidden jewels, only to be seen by lovers or the help. 

Leather and Silk over Wood.  1600's.  Met Museum.

Velvet and Lace from the Bata Shoe Museum.

In addition to making one taller, Chopines also required assistance from several servants in steadying the wearer and clearing the path ahead.  The higher the shoes, the more servants you required, and this was a direct expression of your wealth for the whole city to witness.  The reduced mobility caused by such impractical foot wear is often compared to Chinese foot binding; done for the sake of beauty and wealth, but also rendering the fashionable woman unable to walk without assistance.  Most women walked with a staggering awkward gait in these shoes; yet some writers of the period maintain that with practice and training, women could not only stroll the city but even dance gracefully while wearing the unique platforms.  I'm sure there were also advances in Kinesiology and Occupation Therapy as a direct result of these shoes running amok amongst the slaves to fashion that populated Venice. 


Pink Brocade and Gold Lace with Silk Tassels.
17th Century.  Museum of Fine Art, Boston.

Let's be honest, it's all really just superficial frivolity; Venetian women of manipulated proportion hobbling around a sinking city in fancy shoes that no one ever got to see.  Yet for a time full of unparalleled invention and thought, it's rather fun, even exciting, to see a little bit of outright vanity and eccentricity tempering the seriously cerebral theories of Humanism.  This is not unfamiliar territory; war in Iraq, the economy in the toilet, but look at Christina Aguilera's Louboutins!  I think we could all stand a little distraction, no matter how trivial, from time to time.  It didn't seem to phase the great minds of the Renaissance, even when they were wearing haute chaussure.  

- Ian

20" leather covered Chopines, for those rainy days in Venice.

15th Century Spanish Chopines of tooled Leather over Cork. 
Spanish Chopines were conical, while Venetian versions were
more artistically carved.

Venetian Chopines of Walnut with Mother of Pearl inlay.

Little Gifts

OK kids, I'm not going to sugar coat this; sometimes life can hand you a big steaming pile of crap.  No.  Wait.  Sometimes life can shoot a big steaming pile of crap at you, out of a canon, when you're wearing dry clean only clothes, and suede shoes you paid retail for.  Life can be a bitch.  No matter how much you try to see the sun through a clouds, it's still raining and your umbrella just turned inside out.  It's easy to get down in the mouth; it's easy to want a life other than your own because the universe just isn't cooperating.  No matter how wonderfully simple it is to let yourself think like that, don't do it.   



 Instead of allowing yourself to grow content with discontent, think about the good things in your life.  The things that are easily forgotten and utterly common, but for a moment, or a day, make you smile; the Sunday comics and the way they've smelled the same since you were a kid, the dog that loves going with you to Starbucks on a Spring evening, the phone call from a friend you haven't spoken with in ages.  Welcome opportunities to be happy; be aware of the little gifts that are there for the taking if you allow yourself to see them.  Live in those small moments and make them just as significant as those unpleasant times we all tend to let rule our days.

Case in point; when I was in Pasadena with Alma (See my earlier post on The Folk Tree for more) we pulled into the Vroman's parking lot, wanting nothing more than a pleasant visit to a favorite shop to round out or day, when we were overcome with delight at what lay before us: an Ice Cream Truck giving away Ice Cream.  Ice Cream.  For free.  For us.  Just because.       

Firefox, the web browser, partnered with the ultra hip, ultra good, Coolhaus and their Ice Cream Truck to sponsor a PR/Community outreach event.  They were travelling around the LA area promoting the brand and giving away Ice Cream Sandwiches as a symbol of good will.  As it happened, that day was the day to be in Pasadena behind Vroman's.  It was a little gift, just for us.


The Hipster ice cream man and a party of two.

 Kids, parents, students all waited patiently in line to order their treats.  A man in a knit cap took their orders at the window as arms passed out the finished product through the rear door with the call of a name.  Wrapped in a ribbon of edible paper, two soft baked cookies held in place gourmet ice cream in flavors like Horchata, Dirty Mint Chip and Blood Orange Sorbet.

Firefox was even there for photo op's, or rather, a guy dressed up like Firefox was there.  Of course I fell victim to the thrill of having my photo taken with an anthropomorphic fox in a parking lot behind a bookstore on a Saturday afternoon in Pasadena.  Who wouldn't?!

Le Menu.  Special varieties for the Firefox promotion.

I had the Awesome Bar, Alma the Beta.

It's things like this that make life a little better.  We're all so serious, our days filled with endless phone calls to people we don't want to talk to, our nights nothing more than an all too brief respite from paid monotony.  We intentionally strap on blinders that allow us only to see the unpleasant situations we have to face.  Will there ever be anything else?  Any relief?  Any alternative?  Yes, but we have to create the opportunity, we must be the catalyst in our own lives.  We prevent ourselves from seeing what else is out there.  I'm not saying we should deny responsibility or dedicate ourselves to avoidance techniques, but there's a lot more going on in this world that just spirit crushing drudgery, and it's OK to be happy.

Maybe we should treat every day like it's Saturday.  On Saturday, the world is yours.  You're free to live.  Good things just seem to happen on Saturdays.  Fun happens on Saturdays.  People smile and the weather is always perfect, whether it's pouring rain or hotter than hell, it's perfect beause it's Saturday.  Try to imagine a week of Saturdays, exude Saturday's spirit and charms, see what happens.  Look for opportunities in your war-torn day to smile, to make someone else smile, to make a memory.  Your day will go faster, you'll feel better, and you just may find an Ice Cream truck in your parking lot.
- Ian

PS - For those in the Westside, rejoice.  Coohaus is slated to open a brick and mortar Ice Cream Shop in Culver City very soon.  For more info, click here.




The google-y eyed Firefox stares
back at you from the wrapper.
It's just the right amount of
branding and adorability.

 

Dirty Mint Chip ice cream with Fudge Cookies. 
The addition of sea salt as a garnish
cut the sweetness and emphasized the
Minty flavor of the ice cream.





One of the arms, embellished.










The Folk Tree

Walls of The Folk Tree are evenly coated with art.

A few weeks ago, I found myself in Pasadena with my friend Alma.  We had just finished a Saturday morning seminar (those are always painful) and we were planning to go to Green Street for lunch.  Before we headed out, she asked if we could first stop in one of her favorite little shops, since were were so close and it was on the way to the restaurant. 

She proceeded to tell me how amazing this little Folk Art place was and how each piece was hand made and no two were alike and I would be totally amazed at the treasures I would behold (my embellished wording, her enthusiasm).  Even if we were just in for five minutes, that would be enough for her.  She was obviously smitten, and who am I to turn down shopping?  It was just across the street, so I figured even if I didn't like it (I'm not a huge fan of Latin American Art), at least I wasn't being totally inconvenienced by travel.  I know that's not a very friendly thing to say, but I was hungry.



For some reason, I really like this one.  I think it's the due
to the apathetic man in the feathered hat.



The Folk Tree, as it is called, is a charming little shop crammed with an unimaginable number of things, all of them from Mexico or Latin American Artisans.  Punched tin lanterns, papier mache objet, charms, pottery, votive figures, sculptures, and the like, start on the floor in baskets and crawl up the walls and onto the ceiling where they are suspended like aged meats.  It was like traveling to a wonderful Bazaar with art direction by David La Chapelle and no aggressive locals barking at me. 



I jokingly asked the sales girl what inventory was like, and she replied with the sort of nervous laughter that makes Jack a dull boy.  I shared with her my tale of getting shanghai-ed into doing inventory in the Lingerie department at Nordstrom, and the though of me untangling thong underthings sent peals of laughter through the shop.  I think we had a connection...I think we had a moment there.

A canopy of tin stars in the Gallery space.

The art, which is really what it all is, from the smallest clay trinket to intricately painted hand carved sculptures, shows the chutzpah, creativity, and dynamism of the Latino culture.  Alma would pick up random pieces, some of them no more that brightly painted tooth picks and bits of clay, and wax poetically about their individuality and the cultural heritage behind it and the joie de vivre that it reflected. 

It really was amazing to see how something beautiful could be made out of what we would consider nothing.  But there it was, a brightly painted skeleton of a burro wearing a sombrero and grasping a rose between its exposed teeth.  My hard heart, the same one that has a soft spot for English antiques and Oriental carpets, grew three sizes that day and began to appreciate something I would normally have dismissed as loud and vulgar (I know, the irony is glaring, isn't it?).

Rocky, the proprietress, travels frequently to Mexico to bring these little treasures to Pasadena. She also collaborates with notable Artists such as Sergio Martinez, Enedina Vasquez, and Victor Hernandez and coordinates exhibitions held in the gallery at the back of the shop.  At the time of our visit, she was prepping the space for a Saints and Sinners show.



Hand made jewelry on consignment from the artists.



For those of you looking for a new and unique place that has as much character as it does content, you should definitely check out The Folk Tree.  It's got the artistic quality you have come to expect from Pasadena, but it's delightfully located away from Colorado Blvd, so you won't have to put up with maddening parking or rogue pedestrians.



Visit the Folk Tree Online

- Ian







A polychrome wood carving that's pure whimsy.

The two baby Opossums swing independently.



I'm a sucker for pottery.  These pieces with their natural forms

and Olive green glaze I found especially striking.





The shop is a repository of Dio de los Muertos art.

Yes, that is a skeleton of a dog wearing a Mexican wrestlers

mask and cape. 



If the Sugar Doesn't Get Them, the Open Flame Will.

I can't tell you how many octogenarian birthday parties I've been to over the years.  Mind you, I wasn't invited to any of them, but when you see a motorcade of cars parked around an old persons house, you automatically think 'Estate Sale' and hope for the best.  But when you get inside, all you find are people, and none of them with exact change for your purchases.  The elderly can be so deceptive; this is why I don't like them.

 

While I do enjoy loitering in the homes of strangers and distracting myself in questionable ways (mainly stealing prescription medication and going through personal effects), a birthday is a worthy distraction from petty theft.  Who could argue with presents and balloons and free food?   The cake is always the great equalizer of any birthday squatter situation; in fact, the world would be better if there were more cake in general.  Just not Black Forest, nobody likes Black Forest.  Ask your friends.  If any of them know what it is, I'm almost positive they won't like it. 

At a Birthday party, it's always disheartening when the host gets literal and plugs the cake with as many candles as years 'celebrated' in an attempt to be funny.  Some of those sugar laden fireballs don't make it out of the kitchen before they start setting off the smoke detectors.  No one likes having to keep a fire blanket and a bucket of sand at the ready, even if they do like playing with fire, and no one likes fishing 85 used candles out of a soggy cake.



A little plastic candelabra provides a much
cleaner and far more elegant solution to
the over-perforation of cake.
The candelabra has a spike in the base
that provides stability. 

 Here's an amusing and stylish suggestion for your next party that calls for a cake and candles, minus the burned retinas and welders mask...it's the Cake Candelabra!  Part efficient use of space, part Liberace Camp, part waste of money, 100% fun.  A little plastic do-dad that sticks into the top of your cake providing ambient lighting and a tongue-in cheek-homage to the birthday bonfire tradition.  And depending on the age of the celebrant, it may bring back fond memories of life before electricity.  Instant conversation topic! 

The elderly love talking about the good old days before central heating and Polio vaccines.  They could go on for hours, usually saying the same thing over and over, but that's precious time you could be using to five finger small valuables and make your get away unnoticed with free cake and a few presents. 

-Ian



  

The Cake Candelabra, by Fred.

It's only 10.00! 

Available from Amazon.com and Urban Outfitters.









The Lovers, The Dreamers, and Me

I don't think I need to tell you this, but there has been a lot of awful going on in our world lately...Earthquakes, Floods, Dictators, Sisterwives.  All of it unexpected, all of it shocking, all of it leaving us bewildered.  I have heard some say that this is (insert your chosen deity, political, or spiritual leaders name here)'s way of telling us we have gone too far, a way of reprimanding us for our misdeeds.  I'm sure that if the Westboro Baptist Church had more time in their busy schedule, they'd probably fly over and picket Japan just for the sadistic pleasure they derive from making people in dire situations feel worse.  But what if these people are wrong, or if not wrong, what if they are seeing only one side of the coin? 

Undoubtedly this is a wake-up call for all of us on many levels, but for those who seek opportunities to stir fear and doubt, there should be just as many of us who see this as an opportunity to heal.  These unfortunate events are staggering, but what if they were put here not as a punishment, but as a way for us to find our way back to each other?  Our worlds headcount has grown exponentially, yet we seem to grow more distant with the passing of time.  How many times do we not smile to a passer-by on the street, or not hold the elevator door an extra second 'just in case', or not say "bless you" when someone sneezes?  Blame whatever cancer on society you want (the internet, tv, the Kardashians), the bottom line is, we have made ourselves disaffected, isolated, and unaware of what is outside our individualized little lives.  I think these events are here to remind us of our humanity, our charity, our grace, and that the world we share isn't so big after all. 

Love your Brother, love your Sister, and keep hope alive for those who need it most. 

I promise I'll try and do the same.

- Ian

Kermit had it right all along.