Nosy Interview: Saskia Wilson-Brown

Saskia in NGC 2170: Celestial Still Life, © Ignacio Diaz Bobillo

Saskia is the fearless founder of the awesomely innovative Institute for Art and Olfaction. If you're in the Los Angeles area, you should definitely check out their events and stop in for an open session. No matter where you are, I recommend nosing around (how could I resist?) the IAO website and liking their Facebook page (they post great links!), and not just because I'm proud to be have their support for my nosy research in Rwanda. You can find and follow Saskia (and the IAO) on Twitter, too. 

What do you smell like?  
Right now it's Sunday night, and I think I smell like a day well lived: Sun baked skin, myriad bits of displaced leaves and grass, steer manure (unfortunately hard to remove), a smidge of 'Jeux de Peau' by Serge Lutens, and, inevitably, coffee and cigarettes. Every perfume I buy has to compete with a base of cigarette smoke. It's a unique challenge, but I like to tell myself it makes my life a little more Brigitte Bardot. 

So let's just say I smell like Brigitte Bardot (minus the steer manure: I sincerely doubt she gardened).

What do you like to smell? 
Other than the obvious pleasant smells like flowers and frying onions and such, some smells I've always loved are: Los Angeles after it rains (steaming cement, basically: strangely earthy), sandalwood, grapefruits, tacos, an art studio (oil paints make me nostalgic), chlorine, an empty ski run in freezing weather (solitude!), cigarette smoke after an especially long meeting, jet fuel, the nape of my husband's neck... 

What I always enjoy spending nose-time on is an unfolding idea. I've never had a hyper-developed nose like so many folks who are into scent. For me it's been an extremely strange process of learning how to identify and put words onto what I'm smelling. But the concepts behind the scents are what really get me. When someone is using scent as an art medium, and can use elements in a symbolic way-- when a perfume becomes an illustration of a concept or a story. So I guess I love the smell of a good story.

Nosy Interview: Victoria Frolova

Victoria (whose blotters from the original photo were burned up by the sun) in Blue Sun Bursting, © Alan Friedman  (Averted Imagination)

Victoria has taught me so much about fragrance that I should probably pay her some kind of tuition. Instead I asked her for still more of her insights in the form of a nosy interview, and, lucky for all of us, she obliged. Bois de Jasmin, Victoria's wonderful blog about "perfume and other fragrant pleasures," is an absolutely essential resource for anyone interested in perfume. I have so much faith in her taste and expertise that I should probably also warn you about her blog, as regular reading may lead to a serious uptick in your perfume cravings.

What do you smell like?

Cacophony! Since I work with perfume and research raw materials, by the end of the day I smell like a mixture of things, often strange ones. If the project involves gourmands, I come home smelling like a cotton candy factory. If I’m working with aldehydes, I smell of snuffed out candles and dirty hair. I suppose, if you still love perfume after this kind of experience, you’re either very passionate or crazy. Or both!

Off-duty, I smell of whatever perfume I’m infatuated with at the moment. I also like to spend at least one day smelling of nothing to give my nose a rest. Plus, in the spring, there are so many great scents in the air that you don’t even need to perfume your skin. On the weekend if the weather is nice (and this is not a given in Belgium), I’m usually outdoors soaking up the sunshine and the fragrance of magnolias.

What do you like to smell? 

Anything at all! My husband is used to it, but whenever I go for walks with my friends, they’re often surprised that I pick up various leaves and pieces of bark and smell them. And although they find it an eccentric habit, they always join in, because smelling is so enjoyable and we don’t do it consciously often enough.  

If I’m to name my favorite things I love to smell, I risk boring you, since my list would be too long! But bread and jasmine are among my absolute favorites. Whenever I walk past a bakery and notice the smell of freshly baked bread, I instantly feel happy. It’s such a comforting, cozy scent.  At home we never baked bread, but my grandmother made a brioche-like Easter cake, and when she prepared it, the whole house smelled of yeast, nutmeg, vanilla, and rum soaked raisins.  

Jasmine is another scent that makes me happy (hence, the blog name). It’s such a strange smell if you think of it—apricot jam, horse sweat, white petals, but it’s incredibly sultry. On another level, it reminds me of my childhood summers.  Since my family is scattered all over the world, I miss them very much. Thinking about the time we spent together and recreating some of it through scents and tastes is how I approach my nostalgia.

I also love catching a whiff of perfume on people around me. It doesn’t matter what fragrance they are wearing, even if it’s something I don’t like on myself, it’s always a pleasure to notice what others are sporting and what they pick for different occasions.

Nosy Interview: Alyssa Harad

 Alyssa in a rotated Clouds in Cygnus,  © Bob Caton, Al Howard, Eric Zbinden, and Rogelio Bernal Andreo

In a dusty corner of my drafts folder, I have a few eager paragraphs responding to Alyssa Harad's "The Perfume Diet," published in the June 2011 issue of O magazine. I never managed to make my response presentable, but in November of that year, Alyssa contacted me to say she was enjoying Nosy Girl. I was so flattered! Hers was one of the very first encouraging e-mails (from someone not obligated in any way to offer one) about this here endeavor, and she has since been a great supporter of the nosy blog. I was thrilled to learn that Alyssa was working on a much bigger project related to the essay: Coming to My Senses, her smart & beautiful memoir, is available now (and it would make a great holiday gift!). Additional Alyssa to tide you over until you get your copy: this super-insightful interview (conducted by Elisa), and Alyssa's blog (I especially loved this post). 

What do you smell like?  
I suspect most of us would be as disconcerted to find out what we smell like to others as we are when we first hear our voices on tape. That said, I probably spend a lot more time sniffing myself than most people do, because I collect and write about perfume and I love to follow along as it unfolds on my skin. On any given day I might smell like an orange grove in full bloom, a New York dowager in diamonds and furs or the inside of a Japanese temple. When I'm not wearing perfume, and perhaps even when I am, I'm guessing I have the rumpled, slightly musty, libraryish smell of someone covered in cat and dog fur who drinks tea all day at home, alone, in front of the computer, surrounded by old books. In the evenings, and on weekend afternoons, I smell of whatever I'm cooking. 

A perfumer I know named Neil Morris--a big friendly bear of a man--once thoroughly snuffled the skin between my inner wrist and the crook of my elbow, up and back and up and back again,and declared that my base scent was milky, sweet and slightly woody. He wanted me to try a perfume of his called "Scrumptious," because he thought it  would meld with my skin. Though I have no doubt he was right, I was smitten by another perfume from his line, one called "Midnight Shadows," a dark, smoky number with just a touch of burnt caramel. Make of this what you will.  

What do you like to smell?  
As long as I have an escape route, I'm up for a quick whiff of nearly anything, though I do get overwhelmed by too much scent in an enclosed space. I can't go into Abercrombie & Fitch, for example. (That may not be the only reason). 

For some reason, whenever I get this question I think of scents that conjure up beloved places. I went on a trip to Seattle and the San Juan islands this summer, my first visit in many years, and it made me remember how much I love the scent of old pine forests--not just the sharp, turpentine scent of the needles, but the combined scent of living and decaying trees and damp humus underfoot. I love everything about  the smell of a ferry landing, too--the creosote and old wood smell of the dock and the diesel engine of the ferry mixing with the briny salt and seaweed of the harbor. I've written about the dry summer dust, blonde grass and sagebrush scent of the foothills that surround my hometown of Boise, Idaho, and the first time I drove down the coast of California I went crazy for the mixed scents of the ocean and the eucalyptus trees--eventually I just pulled over and piled a bunch of old branches into my rental car. But I think, even more than all those wild, outdoor smells, I love the smell of a crowded city street in New York in the fall--that crazy mixture of car exhaust, road tar, bourbon, concrete, sweat, dying leaves, damp wool, garlic, roasted nuts, hairspray, metal, coffee, cigarettes and a thousand other things appearing and disappearing in rapid succession like bits of overheard conversation. My perfume makes more sense on a New York city street than it does anywhere else.

Nosy Interview: Arielle Weinberg

Ari in Simeis 188 in Stars, Dust, and Gas © Dieter Willasch (Astro-Cabinet)

Ari writes the delightfully nerdy perfume blog, Scents of Self, where she reviews perfumes, gives away perfume samples (it's thanks to her generosity that I first sniffed Gurelain's gorgeous Après l’Ondée), and shows us what's in her purse in one of my favorite recurring features, "Getting Purse-onal" (I always want to see what's in your purse, people.) Learn what her cat, Zelda, is up to and what she smells like today by following @thescentsofself on Twitter. 

What do you smell like? 

I smell like whatever perfume I happen to be testing for my perfume blog that given day. If I am lucky, that perfume is an olfactory masterpiece; if I am unlucky, it smells like red fruit punch. When I am off-duty, I tend to favor sweet, warm perfumes with a little spice. Some of my favorites are Etat Libre d'Orange Bijou Romantique, Guerlain L'Heure Bleue, L'Artisan Parfumeur Safran Troublant, L de Lolita Lempicka, and Jo Malone Black Vetyver Cafe. 

What do you like to smell?

Burnt things! Lit matches, burnt wood, burnt marshmallows, burnt onions, burnt sugar, burnt grass, burnt coffee (which is probably why I am one of the very few people that actually enjoys Starbucks coffee).

Irish Spring soap on my boyfriend's skin. 

Rice steam and sencha tea. These two notes will feature prominently in my future perfume, "Eau de Benihana." 

My favorite smell in the world is the smell of the manta ray tank at my local aquarium. I get antsy if I have to go without that warm, salty smell for too long, so once a week I bring my textbooks down to the aquarium and do my studying there. 

And I always love to smell perfume on other people. Any perfume, it doesn't matter what. It just makes me so happy to encounter people who are experiencing the many pleasures of perfume.

redolent byredo read

 [Ben Gorham in bed, image via Into the Gloss]

Woah, I loved this Into the Gloss interview with dreamboat Byredo perfumer Ben Gorham. Lengthy (by internet standards), but worth reading in full, the piece is bursting with insights into the process of a perfumer obsessed with memory and storytelling (the best kind of perfumer, in my estimation). His thoughts on developing a vocabulary for scent are so encouraging: 

For me it was about awareness. If I took you in the lab for two weeks, and showed you a spectrum, you would probably be able to show me things that remind you of specific memories. You would be able to develop your vocabulary to create a perfume. And that was the first phase for me, trying to understand the possibilities. Now when I walk down the street I can smell a lot more-dirty laundry, etc. I don't think it's a heightened sense of smell, it's just awareness. 

I too have been curious about how a place maintains its smell over many years and much change:

If I had to pick a favorite [from the line]--I don't know, they all have a special place--but I did, quite early, a fragrance based on a place in India where my mother was born and raised. It's outside Mumbai, it was a place that was very green, I remember visiting it as a child-it was a picnic spot. And when I came back, semi-grown up, it was massively developed, but it smelled the same. So I became very intrigued, I thought--how is this possible? What has changed, what hasn't changed?

I'm not especially familiar with the Byredo line (in part due to the lack of samples at my local Barneys), though I would have purchased Oud Immortel on impulse (a rarity for me when it comes to perfume) had it not been beyond my budget. After reading this piece, I'm itching to get to the Byredo counter and smell everything--especially Green, the fragrance inspired by the "green bean essence" of Gorham's absent father, and an upcoming scent that inspired the exchange "More goat...less goat."

I understand completely what one of the commenters said about liking reading about perfumes as much as smelling them--I felt that way reading this article, imagining milk on skin, what Mexico smells like, and why Gorham's girlfriend rarely wears perfume, and I even feel that way reading lists of notes, the promise in those simple lists, so like musical chords in their potential to be new again each time.

Nosy Interview: Andy Tauer

Andy sniffs in NGC 7635: The Bubble Nebula, © Larry Van Vleet

I'm thrilled to feature Andy Tauer as the first perfumer in the Nosy Interview series. Andy is responsible for Tauer Perfumes, a line I fell for hard after Elisa introduced me. Andy lives in Switzerland, and though we've never met, our correspondence has completely convinced me of his reputation as the nicest guy in perfumery.  Visit his blog, connect with him on facebook or twitter, and by all means, do whatever you can to get your hands on his glorious creations! 

What do you smell like? 

First, I smell amazingly different on the outside than inside. In general terms, I find it remarkable that nature found a way to mostly make sure that whatever happens on my inside will not permeate somehow just like that through pores or so. But it does permeate a bit. And hence, my scent is always a scent presenting itself in the moment. My body chemistry, the food and drinks I put it: It all matters, at least a bit. 

Now, how do I smell? I smell in a way that I personally like. I am convinced that nature sends us out there with a scent that we mostly find ok. A lot of aversion towards body odor is cultural, conditional. It is put onto us. We should learn again to say a bit more “I like the way I smell.” As a perfumer, I wish perfume lovers to enjoy my fragrances not to cover up, but rather to vary and to explore new paths of how we might smell. 

Like all humans, I smell differently on different parts. Some parts of my body are hard to explore by myself, though. Human beings are best smelled on the back of their heads, towards the neck. It is there where hair and the skin of the neck are meeting, where we smell most interesting, and where our body odor is less prone to be mixed with musky, sweaty notes. I cannot tell you how I smell there. But in general terms: 

I think I smell slightly sweet, a bit on the ambery side. There is definitely sweetness to my smell; with the slightest hint of a ripe fruit. It does not compare to any fruit, but maybe a ripe avocado comes closest. I like the way I smell. 

What do you like to smell? 

I like to smell almost everything, natural, manmade, be it made for the purpose of being smelled or not. 

I like to stick my nose into a lot of what other people would call ugly, putting off scents. There is something interesting in everything. Contrary to what you might expect: I do not visit perfumeries that often and smell things there. I am/was always worried that it might influence subconsciously my own fragrance creations. I wanted to avoid this. I learned for myself quite recently that I should not worry too much there. 

At the end, it is very simple things that I like to smell. My bed and the pillow, leaves or pieces of wood picked up on my way, the fresh humid air on a foggy November morning. A fresh green apple. I guess I just like to smell a lot of different things. This list could go forever. Perfumes are also many lines in this list.

Nosy Interview: Katie Puckrik

 Katie Puckrik (photographed by Kimberly Metz) in front of The Tadpoles of IC, ©Mark Hanson

Perfume blogger Katie Puckrik is a serious gateway drug. If you're at all interested in perfume, prepare to become a lot more interested after clicking through to her fragrance blog, Katie Puckrik Smells. Puckrik is the perfect pick for the first nosy interviewee I have not met in person, as I credit (blame?) her with upping my perfume-curiosity to a consuming (expensive!) degree. Her witty, addictive video reviews (bet you can't watch just one in her perfume collection series); insightful blog posts;  and entertaining correspondence with her perfume pen pal, Dan Rolleri, make her site one of my favorite spots on the internet, smelly or otherwise.

What do you smell like?  

Right this instant, I smell like the honeyed, musky roses of Keiko Mecheri's perfume Attar de Roses, and I can't get enough of myself! I keep hoiking the top of my shirt over my nose and huffing down my front to create a warm Attar de Roses vacuum.

As a perfume writer with a YouTube channel and blog, my audience keeps me on the hop trying an endless parade of fragrances that far exceeds what I'd naturally choose to wear if left to my own devices. After a day of testing and writing, I often smell like a perfume version of a patchwork quilt.

On the plus side, it means I'm exposed to a great deal of sensory stimulation that really amps me up creatively. In the con column, it takes me away from quality time wearing favorite scents from my own collection, which leans heavily towards what I call "Queen of Sheba fumes": rose, incense, amber, musk, patchouli, oud.

I adore theatrical, emphatic perfumes. I've always loved wearing deep,sensual scents, but it's only in recent years that I've embraced florals, particularly rose. Like many perfume thrillseekers, I'm fascinated by the stanky barnyard element in fragrances that add the beast to the beauty. Maybe I'm comfortable with those subtle physical flourishes after my years working as a dancer, accustomed to my perpetual "clean sweat" smell. Or at least I told myself it was clean- maybe it wasn't as subtle as I liked to imagine! Regardless, I lean towards perfumes that complement the built-in saltiness of my skin: ones grounded by sandalwood, musk and oud.

What do you like to smell?

I love to smell of the air in Southern California on a cold spring night: a bouquet of fragrant weeds, sweetshade trees, fireplace smoke, wet earth and chaparral. It's almost an incense.

There's a certain plastic wrapping smell I really like. The right kind of plastic will have me snorfing deeply into a faceful of it, like Dennis Hopper in "Blue Velvet".

Most of all, I love to smell my husband's warmed-by-the-sun skin. It's sweet/salty, a little like rising bread. When I go to kiss the back of his neck, it's really an excuse to sniff him. I read somewhere once that 1800's Chinese culture was horrified by kissing, because it was considered one step away from being a cannibal! It's a funny idea, but sort of true: the pleasure of a kiss does include the beloved's smell and taste.

Nosy Interview: Elisa Gabbert

Elisa pictured in the Cocoon Nebula, © Jean-Charles Cuillandre & Giovanni Anselmi  

I just met Elisa in real life (though I've been enjoying her writing for some time), and she's already taught me loads about perfume. You can learn about fragrance from her, too; she writes the "On the Scent" column for Open Letters Monthly.

What do you smell like?  

I must have some innate smell I’m not privy to – what John calls “that good Elisa smell” (which raises the question, does he like how I smell because he loves me, or does he love me because he likes how I smell?). But I generally cover that up – or enhance it, if you prefer – with perfume. I have many, and I subscribe to the marketing adage “Always be testing,” so there are always samples in the rotation. On any given day I might smell like lilies and amber (Donna Karan Gold), caramel leather (Cuir de Lancome), glossy geranium-rose (Rossy de  Palma), clove cigarettes (Tabac Aurea), peachy tuberose-jasmine (Carolina Herrera), rubber and vanilla (Bulgari Black), spicy sandalwood (Chanel Egoiste), lavender, heliotrope and patchouli (Belle en Rykiel), lily of the valley, hyacinth and lime popsicle (Gucci Envy), orange blossom and musk (Narciso Rodriguez for Her), laundry soap and baby powder (Flower by Kenzo) … you get the idea.

What do you like to smell?

San Diego. The smell of approaching rain in El Paso. My clothes, after I’ve worn them (lingering perfume traces create a kind of out-of-body, third-person experience). Barbecuing meat. Pizza. Fresh herbs (especially basil, mint, and cilantro). Limes. Grapefruit. Figs. Coffee beans. Roasted nuts. Roasting chiles. Anything baking. Rum. Tobacco shops. Patchouli. Roses. (If none are available, Perfumer’s Workshop Tea Rose will do.) Tuberoses. Apricots. Violet leaf. Labdanum. Leather. Woodsmoke. Blown out candles.