SWEET GOURMANDS

By its very nature, perfume conjures sensual collusion - between partners-in-crime drawn together despite themselves by its invisible, soundless siren call; between the scent and the skin that bears it; between the notes that conjoin to create a chimera. The downy bloom of an apricot cheek. The yielding softness of a white kid glove. The velvety warmth of a lover’s body. Skin to be nipped or stroked...

Once the aphrodisiac rush of ginger and rum burns through, Dangerous Complicity unveils this passionate pact between fruit, flower and flesh.

The apricot, tea and violet facets of the tiny osmanthus blossom morph into delicate suede. The coconut-white petals of jasmine betray a whiff of the Beast lurking within the Beauty. The tropical lushness of ylang-ylang conjures salty, sun-kissed skin. The smoky creaminess of sandalwood hints at secret musky places in the chocolate-dark undergrowth of patchouli.

 This is the scent of skin on skin — or should that be sin on skin? — intimate and sexy, edgy but smooth as a swans-down powder puff. The scent of leather and powder, or rather: the softly scented trace a bad boy’s leather jacket would leave on the powdered skin of a femme fatale. The masculine yielding to the feminine in a fragrant folie à deux - or is it the other way round?

Rhum JE, gingembre JE, noix de coco JE, baie, calamus, absolu d'osmanthus, absolu de jasmin Egyptien, ylang-ylang, lorenox, patchouli, accord cuir, santal

Orange blossom, marshmallow, coffee, rose, cold tobacco, leather, amber, musk

His beauty would have been his greatest asset. One imagines he was raised in the big air of Texas, his soft skin scrubbed by ears of wheat, his eyelashes curled by grappling with grace against a blinding sun. A Midnight Cowboy lost on city asphalt.

A fisherman without a line, he was made to be hooked by others, to believe in his fate without knowing it, to wreak havoc and forget it over time. Youth for women-of-a-certain-age, stock for late-night parties, a partner to accompany the wealthy of Palm Beach on nature walks, his splendor is consumed in the service of others. Now, a Fat Electrician in New Jersey, his talent depleted in his sexual decline. This is the curse of beauty - it doesn’t last.

Vetiver from Haiti, chestnut cream, olive leaves, myrrh, vanilla, opoponax

Pop-corn accord, carrot seeds, cumin seeds, sesame, black pepper from Madagascar, freesia, vetiver from Haiti, sandalwood, kernels of ambrette absolute, orris absolute, styrax, canon powder accord

I have never been a one for scents in bottles.

The great Sufi poet Rumi wrote:

“If anyone wants to know what “spirit” is, or what “God’s fragrance” means, lean your head toward him or her. Keep your face there close.

Like this.”

This is possibly my favorite poem of all time. It restores me like the smoke/rain/gingerbread/greenhouse my scent sense is fed by. It is a poem about simplicity, about human-scaled miracles. About trust. About home. In my fantasy there is a lost chapter of Alice in Wonderland - after the drink saying Drink Me, after the cake pleading Eat Me - where the adventuring, alien Alice, way down the rabbit hole, far from the familiar and maybe somewhat homesick - comes upon a modest glass with a ginger stem reaching down into a pale golden scent that humbly suggests: Like This...

Ginger from Indonesia, pumpkin, tangerine, immortal flower, Moroccan neroli, rose, spicy notes, vetiver, woody notes, musk, heliotrope

Malaise gives off the metallic smell of the Iron Lady tearing down British society - “There’s no such thing as society” - to sell off the rabble and rubble to the City. Malaise gives off the metallic smell of guitar strings being tortured in London squats, of safety pins stuck in cheeks, of razor blades slicing through the skin of pallid chests.

Malaise gives off the metallic smell of the spaceships that will carry us Anywhere out of this world, as Baudelaire once said. “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away” with Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia. Aboard the musical mothership of Close Encounters, led by François Truffaut, whose generous gaze will soon go out. In the bowels of the Nostromo freighter where a vitriol-blooded Alien, thrust into the body of space proles like a monstrous reverse-pregnancy, bursts out in a gut-splattered howl.

Malaise gives off the metallic smell of blood, yes, but also the burn of pepper spray in our noses... Ah... ah... ah... nar... CHY! And a strange sweet softness we sink into, like the ground flesh of an overripe fruit in our fist. And the pungency of the leather armor we slip on to scare off the hippies.

“No More Heroes”, the Stranglers growl, but Luke and Leia give us the Force. We hold out our hand to Spielberg’s mild-mannered aliens. We butcher the bug that’s eating us up from inside with Ripley, the kick-ass androgyne.

Citrus, black pepper, amber, prune JE, electric aldehydes, heliotrope, patchouli, orcanox, leather

This girl is a gift for well-behaved men. The one who bursts into a party and suddenly makes you want to believe in Santa Claus. Half way between a flirtatious temptress and a dancing queen, the temperature rises just by her presence. To hell with “global warming”! She’s here to have fun, no matter what. Heavenly lightness in December... Sweet honey notes at the start lie on a vanilla-tangerine accord and all at once life becomes as captivating as the fullness of her décolleté. It’s soft and warm, notes swirl and dance, and the world starts spinning, like a faceted mirror ball, marvel of all marvels.

In the heart, red pepper mingles with nigella in a detonating cocktail of scents. Hot red lips adorn a lavishly extraverted smile. Breathtaking! The slightly musky, solar accord of the base speaks of the radiant warmness of her skin under her laughing throat. She calls for her after-midnight man, the one who will abduct her under the Xmas tree. And who will jealously sweep her off her feet and into his room, like a child would with his most precious present.

Honey, tangerine, vanilla, cinnamon from Sri Lanka, nigella, red pepper, apricot, patchouli, solar musked accord

Patchouli, balm of Peru, vetiver, black pepper absolute, opoponax, bergamot, seed of carrot, kernels of ambrette absolute

She has all the assets of platinum blond seduction. A full-fledged décolleté, shapely hips and a sensuous catlike walk. A perfectly curvaceous body in a sequined lamé dress, a Technicolor version of the American dream! Accords of ambergray, fur and white pepper evoke an excess of luxury, the flashiness of casinos, women in sheath dresses and Marilyn naked under a mink coat. Is she a real blonde?

To know the answer one will have to wait for nudity… Flushes of aldehydic notes fill the bedroom air, a tribute to the perfume the star wore at night, red-hot kisses enhanced by a bubbling thirst-quenching pink champagne note that leaves one panting. One feels like biting into this lovely sugared almond. Everything a brunette ever dreamed of!

Aldehydes, liqueur brandy of Champagne, Rose, Peach of Grapevine, White Pepper, Myrrh, Patchouli, Suede

Lily-of-the-valley, jasmine, orange blossom, aldehydes, amber, patchouli, cocoa, musk, marshmallow