September 1st, 2011 / Berkeley, CA
Dear Dawn,
I’ve been all over the map creating floral chords based on the pairing of tuberose and osmanthus, and labeling each bottle “Dawn 1″ or “Dawn 2″ and so on. I’m now up to “Dawn 8”, if that tells you anything.
I tried some variations with poplar buds, damascenone, alpha ionone, Turkish rose, Indian jasmine and orange flower absolute. Not all at once, of course, but one or two at a time. So far, I’ve made two complete perfumes and six chords, and all I know for sure is this: I need more tuberose than osmanthus, plus some small amount of orange flower absolute.
There’s something beautiful that happens when the orange flower absolute shimmies itself between the tuberose and the osmanthus. Meanwhile, in the land of not so beautiful, I discovered that the poplar buds make an unfortunate lock with the “cough medicine” aspect of osmanthus, that the alpha ionone was too much watery violet, and that the damascenone plum notes resulted in discord.
I feel as though this perfume I’m working toward is a secret room, and I’m locked out. I keep trying different keys — different combinations of florals that will hopefully fit into the lock and open the door to that room; alas, I’m still standing in the hall.
There’s a complete shift in my work when I finally find the right key to the door and turn it — so much snaps into focus as the door swings open and the secret room is revealed. This isn’t an unusual process for me, as it’s often how things begin when I set about to create a perfume.
I’m eager to hear about the essences you’re working with, and where your blending has taken you.
Warmly,
Mandy
Osmanthus & Tuberose play cozy neighbors in the Aftelier studio – photo by Aftelier
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September 5th, 2011 / Boulder, CO
Dear Mandy,
As I mentioned before in a previous letter, I have a tendency to design in the abstract — to think and think (or is it imagine and imagine?) a perfume into existence. So, until this week, I’ve been thinking and imagining this perfume, then writing down a very long list of potential notes.
I then edited the list into a bit of a diagram and that was my first start at a ‘map’ of the journey (I like to have a clear idea of where I want to go before I jump into mixing materials together). It’s ok if I see a better path once I’ve already begun the journey, but I find I do better, more coherent work if I create a map first.
It also occurred to me that, as I’ve mentioned to my students when I’m teaching about floral-floral designs or classical heart bouquets, that starting right in the middle and spiraling outward can be a great way to materialize a perfume — to start with the heart accord and then add top and base notes from there.
When making visual art, it’s a good idea to “work all over the canvas” so that the image is always in a gradual state of becoming, and no one part is more “finished” than the rest. This allows all aspects of the work to develop at the same pace.
In general, I find it’s the same with a perfume, so I tend to add some top, middle and base notes from the start, like a skeletal structure, and then flesh it out. My potential exception would be with a classical floral-floral, like this design, so I’ve started with the inner heart note and am spiraling outward.
I, too, realized early on that the osmanthus will overtake the tuberose at half and half (or 1 to 1), so I started with a 2 to 1 ratio that’s been working well, although I doubt that it will stay that straight-forward in proportion by the time all of my other elements have been added.
In staying with the classical theme, I then went straight for Egyptian grandiflorum jasmine, Moroccan orange blossom and Rose de mai. I agree that the orange blossom has a particular song to sing with both the tuberose and osmanthus.
The elegance of the “king and queen” of perfume have also been beautiful without taking over. The real catalyst, though, was the ylang ylang. I can see why so many classic floral masterpieces utilize this flower in low percentage in the heart. It has a facet that fits with every player: fruity, flowery, heady and animalic. I’m contemplating lily (or some elements of lily, if I stick to an all-natural design, which I haven’t fully decided upon yet) and also some carnation.
I’m presently waiting to let the first floral accord macerate a bit before it can tell me what it wants.
Meanwhile, I also created an all-botanical “spiced plum” accord that I’m contemplating adding. We’ll see. So far, I have to say the hardest bit has been narrowing down to one complete concept. I still feel as though I’m flying in different universes with many ideas for this perfume. There are just so many ways it could go.
I look forward to hearing about your progress and what universes this project has been taking you to, as well.
All my best,
Dawn
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September 11th, 2011 / Berkeley, CA
Dear Dawn,
I really enjoyed reading how the process of creating a perfume takes shape for you. For each of us, we create alone in our own idiosyncratic ways. I feel there’s a bit of magic involved when I create a perfume: I understand some of what I’m doing, but never all of it.
I find it fascinating what you discovered about the catalyzing role that ylang is playing in your perfume — it makes complete sense. I tried it in one of my variations, but I fear I’m all “ylanged-out” from my last perfume (Haute Claire), which focused so intently on the use of ylang ylang.
As for the florals, I’m still on the fence about which ones to include — sometimes (actually often) for me, less is more. In the variations where I’ve included both rose and jasmine (the King and Queen), it seemed the heart of the perfume lost definition. I’m still working on this because I would like to incorporate that voluptuous experience that a bouquet of rich florals can offer, but I’m also concerned about losing the singular aromatic qualities of the osmanthus and tuberose.
Since vintage perfumery isn’t my specialty, I had to spend some time researching what was included in the formulas of some of the old floral classics like Joy, L’Air de Temps, Le De, Quelque Fleurs and Fracas, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that several of them included tarragon — which is a personal favorite of mine. I love what it can accomplish at the top of a floral perfume with its sweet green licorice note.
Also, all these old classics included animal essences. Based on this historic fact, I’ve decided to follow that tradition and include animal essences in this perfume, as well.
For my personal stock of oils and essences, I’ve bought out many an old perfumer’s collection of essences, some of which included antique civet and castoreum musks among the treasure trove of aging bottles. I also have some actual beaver castor that I’ve tinctured and it has a sweet, smoky leather aroma that is . . . truly sexy.
Amber seems to be another classic note in old floral perfumes. I like to create my own labdanum, mixing several different types together to reach an amber note that’s the most beautiful to me. Because of this, I seem to be leaning toward an animalic and amber base.
Warmly,
Mandy
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September 28th, 2011
Dear Mandy,
You know, the thing that struck me most was something that we BOTH do when contemplating a new design in its entirety — which is to look directly at the classic perfumes (even if I’m creating something very modern) to find the historical context into which the new perfumes we’re creating will fall.
Dawn keeps vintage bottles on hand for reference – photo by DSH perfumes (click photo for full image)
What I mean by that is that I feel that there is always a continuum of design: a dialogue with the past, and yet also something that we leave for the future to ponder. So I, too, have revisited a few classic perfumes that I felt were speaking to this particular design, specifically Fracas and Joy (I like that we both considered these), as well as Arpege and L’Origan de Coty.
For myself, I was looking more closely at the base note structure as I want to make some references to these classics in my design while allowing the perfume to speak to me here in the 21st century. I came away with a rich balsamic-vanillic accord that flows into the animalic.
However, it appears that we differ in one way that has come to my notice: you seem to work more on point-counterpoint within your designs, coaxing a ‘dialogue’ of notes that speak in singular voices to one another, while I think that I tend toward a strongly multi-facted aromatic signature that is maybe better described as echoes.
I like to get all of the notes speaking (singing?) at once in hopes of producing a choral effect: the wearer may never really know where any specific effect is coming from. Or, maybe it’s a bit like a game of “hide and seek” or “Marco Polo“?
Having explained this, it may not surprise you that I have about 40 potential single notes listed and three rather involved (over 10 note) accords on my drawing board. I don’t expect that I’ll use all of these, but I will most likely use about 65% or more of them.
I also wanted to thank you for sending me some of your Hyraceum (african stone) tincture to play with. While I have some of the stones, I had yet to pulverize them and start tincturing, so you’ve saved me many steps and much time.
I’ve begun work on a new natural animalic accord that I may use in the base which incorporates this note. It has a very dominant character and I’m still getting a feel for where its secrets lie and what internal beauty I can mine from it. I’ll surely be writing again about this and let you know my progress.
From this, you might have inferred that I’m still creating within an all natural arena. I’m not 100% sure that I’ll stay here, but for now this is fun and I always enjoy the challenge of creating this style of old-school floral perfume using just naturals.
By next time, I feel that my vision will be all the more clear (after making the top note and base accords I will use) and beginning to stitch them to the heart bouquet I have begun. Then I’ll know what the next steps will be.
For now, it’s full-tilt adventure.
All my best,
Dawn
*P.S. — I’m including a picture with a few of my Coty perfume originals, one of which is the L’Origan de Coty, and of course you see the Arpege. I not only look them up, but many times I go and reference the original perfumes to know what I want to speak to, and what I don’t.
Next time, I’ll include some shots of the places I frequent when I’m working on new projects: Amante Coffee and Trattoria Bacco — both right across the street from my studio in North Boulder. I do a fair amount of thinking at both locations.
***This is a continuation of a series. You can find the other letters between Mandy Aftel and Dawn Spencer Hurwitz at the links below:
Letters to a Fellow Perfumer: Mandy Aftel & Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (ep. 1)
Letters to a Fellow Perfumer: Mandy Aftel & Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (ep. 2)
Letters to a Fellow Perfumer: Mandy Aftel & Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (ep. 4)
Letters to a Fellow Perfumer: Mandy Aftel & Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (ep. 5)
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