indian scents: 4 posts

The scent of sandalwood is glorious–creamy, velvety, with a rich rose nuance. It’s as if wood shavings had been steeped in rose liqueur and then drizzled with cream. I remember the bliss I felt while leaning over a vat of vetiver-sandalwood attar in Kannauj, a town in northern India renowned for its scents, and immersing myself into a cloud of fragrant vapor. I still have a handful of sandalwood chips from that trip and they retain their beautiful aroma. The combination of sandalwood and vetiver is even more spellbinding.

Of course, there are plenty of sandalwood-vetiver fragrances, from Serge Lutens Vétiver Oriental to Maison Louis Marie No.04 Bois de Balincourt. I enjoy all of them. Yet the sandalwood fragrance I wear the most is Forest Essentials Sandalwood & Vetiver Scented Body Mist. I bought it on the same Indian trip when I traveled to Lucknow and Kannauj researching the history of attars.

Continue reading →

While reading the memoirs of Mir Taqi Mir, a great Indian poet who lived in 18th century Delhi, I came across a charming anecdote about a jasmine pilaf. Once you read it, you’ll know right away why the description captured my attention.

“They used to prepare a fine jasmine pilaf at the house of A’zam Khan Sr. They would put jasmine flowers in some oil and let it sit for a few days so it would absorb the fragrance. Then they would use the oil to cook the rice, which gave it a fine aroma. Burhan-ul-Mulk heard its praise and made a request to A’zam Khan Sr., who then had some prepared and sent over in several big platters. Burhan-ul-Mulk ate it with relish, then remarked in a jocular vein, “It’s not a platter of pilaf; it’s the blessesd grave of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya.” The remark was greatly enjoyed, for people in fact used to bring jasmine flowers in great quantities to cover that revered person’s grave. It would then look like a heap of flowers, and their fragrance would transport passersby even at some distance.”

Continue reading →

My saris are my personal archaeological layers. The turquoise and saffron one was bought from a market in Pune on my very first trip to India. The magenta one with the border of gold thread woven into the peacock pattern came from a cavernous shop in Gujarat, where I sat in a hot daze surrounded by towering stacks of silks. The hot pink one with the silver embroidery was a nod to Mumbai fashions circa 2005 picked up on a whim, along with matching bangles. The sienna and orange one was given to me on my wedding day by my parents-in-law.

My saris live in a box and I wear them only when I’m in India. Here, in Belgium, they don’t feel right. A sari needs the context–the music, the movement, the heat, the chaos of an Indian wedding. So I spread them out on the furniture to enjoy their colors, but I drape myself in a sari-like perfume of layers and folds. Like Neela Vermeire’s Niral, for instance.

Continue reading →

Hands painted with henna smell of leather, wilted jasmine and dried lemon peel. A strange but evocative scent. The moment I catch a whiff of it, I think of Indian weddings, including my own. I know only two perfumes with a henna note, The People of the Labyrinths A.Maze and Parfum d’Empire Azemour les Orangers, in which henna plays up their soft leather accords.

Have you ever had your hands painted with henna? If you know of other perfumes with henna notes, please let me know.

Photography by Bois de Jasmin