Not being a perfumer, having no special gift or predisposition to compose, is a huge frustration for me. I have ideas, I know the raw materials for having distilled some in Vietnam and I know the perfume vocabulary from working in Grasses. But I will always be missing the talent to express myself, fragrances that haunt me, that grow on me. However, this frustration is overcome by the richness of my encounters with perfumers who embrace my stories. It’s like being a writer who meets an illustrator with his own style and who will create a universe that someone else would see another way.
During my years in Grasses, I was lucky enough to be sent to India and to experience the distillation of Mysore sandalwood. It left me a unique memory of creamy, saturated, almost deafening notes. And such a strong fragrance! Clothes and skin seemed soaked in it. It is hard to forget such an alchemy when you’ve experienced it.
Beyond that note which has become a fantasy (you can no longer use Mysore sandalwood; the forests are protected after having been overexploited …), I needed a story to give volume to a single note. Sandalwood is good, but it is a bit monotonous on its own. The trilogy taking shape, the personality of “Sombre Dessins” («Dark Designs») imposed itself during a discussion with friends, suddenly becoming obvious.
For me sandalwood expresses a dark beauty. The opulence of its oil and its strength makes it an extraordinary raw material in the longevity of a composition. By itself, it’s almost supernatural, it’s a potion that embraces you, it’s mesmerizing, it’s the Holy Grail of raw materials when we wish to express sensuality.
Like most Jovoy’s perfumes, the name «Sombres Dessins» revolves around a pun. We could have called it “Sombre desseins”, «Dark Intentions». But he who wears it doesn’t have those intentions. He is not Machiavellian, he doesn’t not need to be.
He has a natural understanding of our codes, standards and of how things work. On his skin, his perfume is a trap. It is a hot and sweet cocoon full of intoxicating spices and hidden flowers. It is the Siren’s song from which no one can escape.
Top: Italian Bergamot, Pink Pepper
Heart: Modern Rose, Osmanthus, Patchouli, Saffron note
Bottom: Sandalwood Album, labdanum, Frankincense, Rum
Welcome to the lobby of a luxury hotel.
This could be in Paris, Dubai, London or New York, it doesn’t matter.
Do not be distracted by the ice blue eyes of a sumptuous Slavic woman crossing the burning ones of an exuberant Latina. Do not be overwhelmed by the unique opulence of fragrances worn by middle-eastern ladies. Forget the smell of traditional Oriental Bakkhours of the princes who accompany them.
Close your eyes for a while.
First, there’s a bottom note. A perfumer’s amber, warm, suave, and slightly sweet. Not an animal one.
It’s a vanilla base, with roses and musk burning from afar.
Then, may our characters begin their dance:
Our Slavic beauty’s lipstick mixes with the Latina’s patchouli. Pure oud oil coming from the oriental beauties’ wrists merges with the amber wood from fumigations of Princes close by.
Magical! Give me a camera and I will give you the fragrance. But that’s not how things work…
All these combinations could create a chaos of fragrances. And yet this great Mukhallat is unique.
What if we could put a head space to capture this moment and all the noses of the world would interpret what they feel. The results would certainly be something between stereotype and exaggeration.
Thank you Amelie for taking up the challenge to deliver that Oriental Mukhallat. Jovoy is proud to offer, for those who want to wear it, a unique Eastern Princess or Prince fragrance, a “Jus Interdit”.
Top: Italian Bergamot, Solar Flower
Heart: Patchouli, Cypriol, African stone
Bottom: Oud wood, Virginia cedar, Atlas cedar, Iris, Benzoin Siam, Black wood amber
Sans un Mot
He who travels regularly knows the particularly dreaded moment of the stopover.
Your journey started with the logistics to get to the airport. Then you’ve been waiting, getting in line, surrounded by noise, pushed and rushed, your nerves are already to the test. Settled in your seat, with a «meal tray», a film on a screen the size of your device or chatting with your neighbor…
Whatever your ritual, you do what you can, thinking of the coming few hours, and the discomfort of the world you’re in.
Finally, you’re there. But it is not the end of the journey, it is only the stopover.
Once again, you’re in a hurry, checking the boards and floating from one place to another. Either stressed out or bored, you’re only thinking of one thing while you go through the hall: getting home!
In this great hall, always the same background. People talk in various languages, continents perpetually cross each other’s paths. Airports seem to never sleep. Hours don’t matter, the food is the same everywhere, you’re in a timeless bubble. The only thing that matters is the countdown to your destination.
Some tap on their cell phone, seeking for some network, others are haggard. Some dare to close one eye or check a newspaper with soulless information. Time goes by. And then…
Do you know the expression “an angel passing”?
It’s her perfume.
I don’t remember her face, but she was in a hurry. And she stunned everyone in the lobby just by wearing THAT perfume.
Suddenly, the whole lobby is quiet and I’m amused to see everyone looking around in search of the origin of that fragrance. What amuses me even more is that I catch the eye of an embarrassed businessman plunging back in his paper, another one winks at me or that woman who smiles and rolls her eyes. Then the noise comes back, the angel has passed…
I have no idea of which perfume that was. But the image stays with me, it haunts me and I dream of a fragrance with such an impact. That’s how I begin writing the story of what will become my new great floral powdery perfume à la française.
Without a Word.
Top: Pink Pepper, Italian tangerine
Heart: Modern Rose, Ylang-ylang, Cassis, Vanilla, Violette flower, Iris
Bottom: Powdery Musk, White musk, Soft woods