英语书籍：The Scent Trail（2）ZT
=====TODAY'S BOOK=====================
THE SCENT TRAIL
How One Woman's Quest For The Perfect
Perfume Took Her Around The World
by Celia Lyttelton (nonfiction)
Published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
ISBN: 9780451226242
Copyright (c) 2007 Celia Lyttleton
SCENT (Part 2 of 5)
======================================
(continued from Monday)
I also wanted to meet the people who contributed to the making of
the scents, from those who harvest the crops to the highly
specialized perfumers who are known as "noses" in the trade. And so
I began what I came to call my olfactory odyssey, or scent trail.
When I was in the thirteenth-century souk in Aleppo I found a scent
made of unguents of lilies mixed with real musk; whenever I wore
it people were rooted to the spot by its stunning smell. Shop
assistants, bus conductors and children sniffed me and people at
parties clustered around me. I have noticed that nowadays perfumers
are returning to the use of natural essences and essential oils
instead of synthetics; in other words they are adopting a more
holistic approach to the making of perfumes. 'Senteurs' recognize
the need people now feel to identify with a smell, rather than being
smothered in, say, a cloud of Poison or Opium.
Coming onto the market are new scents whose properties are
restorative, calming and relaxing, and aromatherapy reiterates what
the ancients believed about the mind-enhancing power of essential
oils. For example, Tibetan monks burn sandalwood to help them empty
their minds before meditation; lavender has a calming effect on the
mind; and women going into labor often breathe in frankincense to
lessen the pain.
People want a scent which is personal and not packaged; they want
their own "bespoke" scent made to a secret formula just for them.
I felt exactly the same way. So I set off to meet Anastasia Brozler,
a bespoke perfumer, in whose paneled drawing room I began my
olfactory odyssey.
CHAPTER ONE
'THE BESPOKE PERFUMER'
'A Recipe for a Scent'
'He saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its
counterpart in the sensuous life, and set himself to discover their
true relation, wondering what was there in frankincense that made
one mystical, and in ambergris that stirred one's passions, and in
violets that woke the memory of dead romances, and in musk that
troubled the brain, and in champak that strained the imagination;
and
seeking to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes.'
--OSCAR WILDE "The Picture of Dorian Gray"
There are only a handful of bespoke perfumers in London, and
Anastasia Brozler, the founder of Creative Perfumers, is one of
them. When I asked her to concoct a formula for my own bespoke
perfume she immediately drew me into the world of scent and the
magic that smells can conjure up. When I first met her, before she'd
founded her own company, we sat down together in front of a cabinet
modeled on a Chinese medicine chest which had about one hundred tiny
little drawers. From these drawers she randomly took out lumps of
balmy myrrh, earthy orris (iris) roots, vanilla pods--which smelled
mouthwateringly like chocolate--exotic Iranian saffron, heady Indian
sandalwood, spicy nutmeg oil, aromatic cloves and bergamot, basil
and even tomato oil. The smell of those last three together reminded
me of al fresco suppers on Greek islands.
Some of the ingredients Anastasia held under my nose I'd never
imagined making up a perfume: tomato oil, for instance, and guaiac
wood from the Holywood tree of Paraguay; and some smells, such as
ambergris, musk and civet, I had never smelled before. In parts of
the Middle East real musk and civet are still used and sold, but
covertly, because the trade is illegal. Ambergris--which comes
from the vomit of sperm whales--can still be bought, but it is
exceedingly rare, as the whales are difficult to find. So most
perfumers use synthetic substitutes.
The synthetic musk that Anastasia waved under my nose smelled--to
put it bluntly--like a condensed fart. The civet smelled similar to
the musk, but was even more aggressive. But mixed with other scents
in a perfume formula, musk provides a smooth, sensual, erotic base
note. Anastasia told me that when you smell pure musk, you rarely
catch the undertones because the overtones are so revolting.
The smell of pure ambergris was quite a different matter from the
smells of musk and civet. Ambergris smelled like sensual, warm,
suntanned skin, with a touch of ozone and seawater; it was very
addictive and its subtlety left me wanting more. It also reminded
me of truffles and oysters, and it began to affect me like a drug,
inducing waves of euphoria. When Anastasia closed the vial we were
both a little dizzy from the vapors.
Ambergris is still--occasionally--extracted naturally because,
unlike civet and musk, its extraction does not harm the sperm whales
that produce it. When the whale swallows, say, a squid, secretions
from its stomach form a protective coating around the indigestible
parts of the prey and, every so often, when the whale vomits up an
undigested squid, the squid floats like a gelatinous honeycomb on
the surface of the sea and is eventually washed ashore and
collected. Ambergris is made from the secretion from the whale's
stomach which has enveloped the undigested matter. It is aged in
alcohol over several years before it can be used; like a vintage
wine, it mellows with age, whereas musk can be used straightaway.
(continued on Wednesday)
=========ABOUT THE AUTHOR=============
Celia Lyttelton has written numerous articles for such publications
as "Tatler," "Vanity Fair," "Independent," "Daily Telegraph," and
"Financial Times."
=====TODAY'S BOOK=====================
THE SCENT TRAIL
How One Woman's Quest For The Perfect
Perfume Took Her Around The World
by Celia Lyttelton (nonfiction)
Published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
ISBN: 9780451226242
Copyright (c) 2007 Celia Lyttleton
SCENT (Part 2 of 5)
======================================
(continued from Monday)
I also wanted to meet the people who contributed to the making of
the scents, from those who harvest the crops to the highly
specialized perfumers who are known as "noses" in the trade. And so
I began what I came to call my olfactory odyssey, or scent trail.
When I was in the thirteenth-century souk in Aleppo I found a scent
made of unguents of lilies mixed with real musk; whenever I wore
it people were rooted to the spot by its stunning smell. Shop
assistants, bus conductors and children sniffed me and people at
parties clustered around me. I have noticed that nowadays perfumers
are returning to the use of natural essences and essential oils
instead of synthetics; in other words they are adopting a more
holistic approach to the making of perfumes. 'Senteurs' recognize
the need people now feel to identify with a smell, rather than being
smothered in, say, a cloud of Poison or Opium.
Coming onto the market are new scents whose properties are
restorative, calming and relaxing, and aromatherapy reiterates what
the ancients believed about the mind-enhancing power of essential
oils. For example, Tibetan monks burn sandalwood to help them empty
their minds before meditation; lavender has a calming effect on the
mind; and women going into labor often breathe in frankincense to
lessen the pain.
People want a scent which is personal and not packaged; they want
their own "bespoke" scent made to a secret formula just for them.
I felt exactly the same way. So I set off to meet Anastasia Brozler,
a bespoke perfumer, in whose paneled drawing room I began my
olfactory odyssey.
CHAPTER ONE
'THE BESPOKE PERFUMER'
'A Recipe for a Scent'
'He saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its
counterpart in the sensuous life, and set himself to discover their
true relation, wondering what was there in frankincense that made
one mystical, and in ambergris that stirred one's passions, and in
violets that woke the memory of dead romances, and in musk that
troubled the brain, and in champak that strained the imagination;
and
seeking to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes.'
--OSCAR WILDE "The Picture of Dorian Gray"
There are only a handful of bespoke perfumers in London, and
Anastasia Brozler, the founder of Creative Perfumers, is one of
them. When I asked her to concoct a formula for my own bespoke
perfume she immediately drew me into the world of scent and the
magic that smells can conjure up. When I first met her, before she'd
founded her own company, we sat down together in front of a cabinet
modeled on a Chinese medicine chest which had about one hundred tiny
little drawers. From these drawers she randomly took out lumps of
balmy myrrh, earthy orris (iris) roots, vanilla pods--which smelled
mouthwateringly like chocolate--exotic Iranian saffron, heady Indian
sandalwood, spicy nutmeg oil, aromatic cloves and bergamot, basil
and even tomato oil. The smell of those last three together reminded
me of al fresco suppers on Greek islands.
Some of the ingredients Anastasia held under my nose I'd never
imagined making up a perfume: tomato oil, for instance, and guaiac
wood from the Holywood tree of Paraguay; and some smells, such as
ambergris, musk and civet, I had never smelled before. In parts of
the Middle East real musk and civet are still used and sold, but
covertly, because the trade is illegal. Ambergris--which comes
from the vomit of sperm whales--can still be bought, but it is
exceedingly rare, as the whales are difficult to find. So most
perfumers use synthetic substitutes.
The synthetic musk that Anastasia waved under my nose smelled--to
put it bluntly--like a condensed fart. The civet smelled similar to
the musk, but was even more aggressive. But mixed with other scents
in a perfume formula, musk provides a smooth, sensual, erotic base
note. Anastasia told me that when you smell pure musk, you rarely
catch the undertones because the overtones are so revolting.
The smell of pure ambergris was quite a different matter from the
smells of musk and civet. Ambergris smelled like sensual, warm,
suntanned skin, with a touch of ozone and seawater; it was very
addictive and its subtlety left me wanting more. It also reminded
me of truffles and oysters, and it began to affect me like a drug,
inducing waves of euphoria. When Anastasia closed the vial we were
both a little dizzy from the vapors.
Ambergris is still--occasionally--extracted naturally because,
unlike civet and musk, its extraction does not harm the sperm whales
that produce it. When the whale swallows, say, a squid, secretions
from its stomach form a protective coating around the indigestible
parts of the prey and, every so often, when the whale vomits up an
undigested squid, the squid floats like a gelatinous honeycomb on
the surface of the sea and is eventually washed ashore and
collected. Ambergris is made from the secretion from the whale's
stomach which has enveloped the undigested matter. It is aged in
alcohol over several years before it can be used; like a vintage
wine, it mellows with age, whereas musk can be used straightaway.
(continued on Wednesday)
=========ABOUT THE AUTHOR=============
Celia Lyttelton has written numerous articles for such publications
as "Tatler," "Vanity Fair," "Independent," "Daily Telegraph," and
"Financial Times."
选择“Disable on www.wenxuecity.com”
选择“don't run on pages on this domain”
