Spring: 105 posts

Mimosa is a winter flower that holds the promise of spring. One of my most vivid childhood memories is seeing Georgian florists in Kyiv set up their mimosa stands in the last weeks of February. My mother would buy a big bouquet whenever we passed by and bury her face in the yellow flowers. Mimosa is happiness. Mimosa is a ray of sunshine.

In Belgium, mimosa comes either from Italy or France, and when the florists receive it, just like the Georgian mimosa vendors of my youth, they also display it in the street. How can anyone resist a yellow splash of mimosa? Even more inviting than the color of this flower is its scent. It’s delicate yet surprisingly persistent, filling my entire apartment with its nuances of violets, almonds, and cucumber peels. The temptation is to look for a similar interpretation in a bottle of perfume.

One of the classical interpretations is found in Jo Malone’s Mimosa and Cardamom, where the light, creamy aroma of the mimosa flower blends with the cool freshness of cardamom, creating a bright, uplifting effect. Powdery floral notes frame the mimosa and meld into the soft musky base. While the mimosa impression is not the most natural, it’s nevertheless close.

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My wedding outfit wasn’t white. It was green, because in the western part of India where my husband’s family originates and where we were married, it means the color of life, spring and rejuvenation. Since then I have been paying more attention to this color, and the scents associated with it. In perfumery green can be suggested by a variety of materials, from naturals like violet leaf and galbanum to synthetics such as leaf alcohols that smell of freshly cut grass.

Green notes, however, can be difficult to wear, which is why, though this perfume family has many loyal fans, it remains small. We prefer our scents of freshly cut grass and new leaves in the air, rather than in the bottle. Nevertheless, certain green fragrances have become classics. One is L’Artisan Parfumeur Premier Figuier. It creates its signature fig accord with the clever combination of ivy, leaves and galbanum. The latter is a fennel-like plant that produces a pungent smelling essential oil. When carefully dosed, however, galbanum conjures up the vivid colors of spring—young buds, new leaves, damp earth.

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I’m inspired by the scents of spring, but this idea has little to do with the calendar season. My ideal spring is a state of mind, which is why the perfumes that evoke an exhilarating, uplifting sensation are part of my wardrobe all year round. The most effervescent among them conjure up the color green.

Chanel Cristalle is a classic example of a green floral that has a dazzling character and radiant aura. It suggests lemon peel and shimmer, with a bittersweet twist of orange blossom and petitgrain (distilled Seville orange leaves). The Eau de Toilette offers the freshest experience, but it can be difficult to find. While the Eau de Parfum is so lavishly decorated with hyacinth and narcissus that it becomes a velvety, baroque bouquet, it has an uplifting green note that feels like champagne bubbles. Cristalle Eau Verte is another beautiful rendition, sharper, brighter, and yes, greener.

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Every spring I make a Persian rhubarb sherbet by cooking sliced stems and sugar in water. Once the flavor and pink color infuse into the syrup, I filter the liquid and add rose essence. Enjoyed from tall crystal glasses, the sherbet has a voluptuous taste that calls to mind the warm light streaming through the stained glass windows of the Nasir al-Mulk Mosque, a pink-tinted jewel of Shiraz. If you would like to replicate this experience, I invite you to take a look at my recipe.

Since perfumery has much in common with cuisine, rendering my sherbet into a fragrance accord with a similar ornate impression is not difficult. Rhubarb has a natural affinity with rose, violet and berries, because they are complementary notes (and raspberry, in a nesting doll twist, contains elements of both rose and violet, which makes it an especially felicitous partner.)  Jo Malone White Lilac and Rhubarb explores this combination by augmenting the floral layer of rhubarb with a cocktail of rose and lilac. It’s a bright and happy perfume, with a nod to retro glamour.

Rhubarb may seem like a modern note in the perfumer’s palette, but in fact, it has a classical pedigree. A subtle effect, of green crunch and mouthwatering tartness, is found in Miss Dior L’Originale and Carven Ma Griffe. Today perfumers have more ingredients with rhubarb inflections at their disposal, using tartness to temper the sugary notes currently in vogue. For a rhubarb dessert, I might select Yves Saint Laurent Baby Doll, a compote of rhubarb, grapefruit and musk, or Burberry Brit Red, a crème brûlée topped with candied jasmine petals and gingerbread.

Just as it gives an interesting twist to a gourmand, rhubarb also makes green and resinous notes shimmer. To achieve such an illusion, Olfactive Studio’s Flashback dilutes the fruit with vetiver and just enough apple for a hint of delicate sweetness. Aedes de Venustas Eau de Parfum is an even more striking composition–it tosses rhubarb slices with basil leaves and incense. The effect is neither liturgical nor gourmand, but as fresh and exhilarating as being caught in a spring rainstorm.

Another fragrance I like is Hermès’s Eau de Rhubarbe Écarlate, a creation by perfumer Christine Nagel. Nagel is well-known for her sultry compositions that wear like cashmere wraps, and with Eau de Rhubarbe Écarlate she demonstrates that it’s possible to make a cologne seductive. She pairs rhubarb with citrus and red berries, but then she adds a dollop of musk to make the drydown suave and tender. The result is similar to my sherbet—opulent, rich, and just as delicious.

What are your favorite rhubarb fragrances? Also, if you cook with rhubarb, I’d love to hear what you make. 

Crushed young linden leaves — milky, tart, reminiscent of overripe lemons
Moist soil — pencil shavings, moss, steeped black tea, lingering spice, mineral dust
Bluebells — rose petals and lily of the valley soaked in almond milk, green, sweet, indolic
Lichen — Japanese ink, vintage face powder, cinnamon
Rowan flowers — pungent-spicy, powdery, dried mushrooms, almond candy
Lily of the valley — difficult not to think of Diorissimo, which is the best case of a nature reference in perfume
Nettles — grapefruit, green grape, crushed grass

A spring forest walk. Brussels. “Rice seedlings grow,” according to the Japanese traditional calendar.

Scent Diary is a place to write your observations about the scents around you–and about scents in your environment. Whether you write down 1 recollection or 10 matters less than simply reminding yourself to smell. You can add as many comments as you wish. You can comment today or over the course of the week; this thread will always be open. Of course, do share what perfume you’re wearing or what particularly good scented products you’ve discovered.

While looking through my articles, I found this article that I wrote a few years ago but that still remains popular and often-read: A to Z Tips for Enjoyable, Affordable and Rewarding Perfume Hobby. If you have any tips to add, I’d love to hear them.

Photography by Bois de Jasmin