Wednesday, 5 June 2013

 True, this is oak, not oakmoss, but I like the pic.

Perfumery materials I like - 4 -

Oakmoss (Evernia prunastri)

And yet more on EU's regulations and restrictions

Oakmoss is the backbone of all the classic chypre fragrances. For perfume fans who aren't familiar with the techie talk, a chypre is a perfume based on the original Chypre by Francois Coty. Chypre is French for Cyprus, the island, not cypress the fir tree. People get mixed up. 

 Back in the day before registered trademarks and intellectual property rights, the entire perfume industry watched Coty's Chypre scent become a best seller and all made one of their own, many of them also called Chypre. (There were loads of perfumes called No 5 until Chanel hammered them with IP lawsuits. The French are the ultimate trademark defenders, so much for liberty and equality and all that. Don't mess with them.)

Chypre fragrances have things in common, usually patchouli and bergamot - sometimes opoponax and other lovely sticky base notes - and always oakmoss. Whether there's a huge biff in the nose of it, or just a smidgen, you'll always find oakmoss. 


Well it's deep and dark but delicate. (A bit like the picture of the oak tree up there.) It smells like essence of forest. It holds a light fresh perfume together somehow, like grandad sitting calm and smiling at the head of the table while all the children are laughing, playing and exploring the house. Think of Edmond Roudnitska's gems - Miss Dior, Eau Sauvage, Mystere de Rochas, Diorella - and you'll understand. If ever there was a wizard working magic with oakmoss, that was your man.

The moss itself grows on oak trees and makes them look as if they've got excessive body hair. It's the one thing that gives some of the world's most beautiful perfumes - and almost every single one of my favourites - their certain something, their je ne sais quoi. You don't have to be able to smell it to know it's there; it gives a scent a beauty that starts a spinal shiver, in a good way. And it's in danger.

Nope, it's not because the oak trees are being chopped down to make way for a gated community. Nor because they are threatened by a deadly beetle. It's the deadly bureaucrats who have it in for oakmoss. It might give one in 1000 people a rash. 

You might think that the people who get a rash from perfume might avoid perfume and this would be enough. It's not. It's because it's possible that someone who tried a perfume with oakmoss might become sensitised to it, when they weren't before. The EU wants to help people avoid ever getting a rash at all. That's kind of them. It's generous towards the 0.1% of people who might get a rash from oakmoss. They've restricted its use to 0.1% in the final fragrance. It has a certain pleasing mathematical symmetry to it, but other than that, this figure is very irritating. Far more irritating than oakmoss.

Myself, I can wear it at 20% strength with no problems at all. That's 200 times higher than the official amount I'm allowed to put in a scent.

This restriction is why lots of classic scents have disappeared from the shops, or why you can no longer buy them in anything but Eau de Toilette strength, or why they have been reformulated to smell almost the same, but without the spine tinglyness.

So fingers crossed that it isn't replaced entirely by synthetics which smell very similar but are missing the mysteriousness. You can get it from Hermitage Oils if you want to give it a go. Buying it is fine; it's putting it in perfumes you want to sell that's the issue. And that, boys and girls, is my problem.

Sunday, 2 June 2013

A week at the Gin Garden

The Chelsea Fringe Hoxton Hotel Gin Garden Bombay Sapphire Experience, to be precise.

We've just had a whole week making personal perfumes using botanicals that Bombay Sapphire also use to make their superlative gin.

We made a base with two synthetics and two natural materials: bergamot, vanilla, Iso E Super and cedramber. On top of that each visitor chose from a selection of gin flavours and fragrances, including juniper berries, cubeb, coriander, lemon, orris, a lavender violet accord I mixed up myself, almond, aniseed and petigrain.

It's amazing how many different perfumes you can make from such a small selection. (Well, it's not really, not if you know a bit about maths and probability theory.)

A couple of people, including the lovely Katie from The Tatler, fell in love with the base, so it's just possible that it might appear at some point as a standalone scent. OK defintately; we've already got the name.

In the meantime, we've still got a little of of the scent I made up for the occasion. It's called The Gin Garden, named after Jo Farish's pop-up events of the same name, and as well as the materials listed up there, it's got rose, rosemary, peppermint, black pepper and a fabulous new CO2 extract of olive fruit.
Coming to the 4160Tuesdays shop soon. Available until it runs out.

What lovely people we met. Barmen who make ace cocktails, writers, herbalists, historians, bloggers, brand experience consultants and people who just happen to love perfume and fancied a taste of the ultimate G&T. I had several of those, and even a gin cocktail with an infusion of pear drops and grapefruit peel.

Fingers crossed we get to do it again sometime. Soon.