Scent Signals

From Full Moon to Dark Moon - Phases in a Perfume Lover's Life

If you've been around perfume long enough you notice that you go through phases. One day you love certain scents, the next day you don't. Even longtime favorites can suddenly lose their appeal.

I'm not talking about the seasonal shifts in which temperature and humidity can affect your choices. These are lightning-quick reversals of taste that seem to come out of nowhere. They might last a day or two, but a phase can go on for weeks or months or years. It might involve just one perfume or a handful.

In a more extreme case you can enter a phase in which you lose your taste for most perfume - not just those in your collection. I seem to be in one of those phases now. For the past week or so I haven't wanted to wear my commercial perfumes, with the exception of Serge Lutens Vétiver Oriental. To be more accurate, I haven't wanted to spray on any of them. The act of spraying seems to be a sticking point right now. I think I know why.

Two or three weeks ago, they painted a nearby apartment, and the paint fumes were so strong in my own apartment that I felt dizzy and as if someone or something were pushing the air out of my lungs. It was a horrible feeling. Since then, I've only wanted to smell what I consider to be quiet smells - the Vétiver Oriental, essential oils, organic lotions and one or two attars. And I've wanted to control their application, which means dabbing instead of spraying. I feel better when the scent isn't so diffuse.

I'd actually noticed this over the past couple of years - when I'd spray a bunch of scents my thyroid would react, my throat would get congested and I'd feel overwhelmed. I tried to ignore that, but it was an early sign. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing for your system. Or, since we don't know what chemicals lurk in commercial perfumes, maybe it was too much of a bad thing and my body was trying to tell me so. We perfume lovers don't want to hear these things.

During the past couple of weeks I've also become hyperaware of the perfumes worn by others. In the past I'd notice them, but now they hit me like a brick in the face. I don't say anything, but I do move away if I can. To those who believe you cannot become sensitized to scent and that the people who find your perfume loud or unpleasant are just pissy control freaks - wait until it happens to you.

It's not all bad. Since I've cut back on my perfume spritzing my thyroid has calmed down noticeably. (I was diagnosed last year with Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, a condition in which your body attacks your thyroid.) It's the number-one thyroid complaint of women and they don't know what causes it.

You know what I'm thinking. Of course, I'd have to go cold-turkey on all fragrance to test my theory, and I just might. Lou, over at the Moving and Shaking blog, did exactly that for her own health reasons, and it's really helped her. Check out her story (and how her trip to Paris, perfume capital of the world, went). There is life beyond perfume.

We may believe that our lives would be bereft if we didn't wear our favorite perfumes. We think our perfumes tell our stories and without them we wouldn't have a story. That's an awful lot of power to give an object. Since I've stopped wearing most of my favorites, I've found that it's simply not true. We are the story. Not our perfumes. I still want to smell nice, but I feel far less attached to the stories of my perfumes. It's more freeing than I would've imagined. And so far, I am not mourning what some might perceive as my "loss."

I'm calling this phase my Dark Moon phase. I could call it my Crescent Moon phase, since I'm still wearing some fragrance, but I think Dark Moon sounds more romantic and is closer to what's happening, because the Dark Moon is also called the New Moon. This is a place where one thing ends and another begins. I have no idea how long it will last. I may swing back into Full Moon phase next week. But somehow I think not. I will listen to the wisdom of my body - something I have ignored the past couple of years of my perfume obsession. It will tell me when and how to reapproach perfume.

This is fine with me. Since I've cut back on my use of perfume, I've discovered, among other things, nuances in the scent of my cats' fur that I've never picked up before. And I've felt quieter, more contemplative, inside. It's delightful. There is life beyond perfume. A silver lining. Strange, perhaps, coming from a perfume lover, but nonetheless true.

(The pictures are of some of the scented products I am still using - they come from Whole Foods Market and Aveda.)

Editor's Note added 7/31/08: It seems natural perfumer Anya McCoy has had some perfume sensitivity issues of her own, as has another perfume blogger, Heather, at Memory and Desire. Read about them here, on Anya's blog.

The Smell of Peace - There's No Place Like Home

Does peace have a smell? Can we really capture it in a bottle? Perfumers have tried to conjure it, and some have made good money selling the idea that they've done it, but can the smell of peace be reduced to a handful of perfume notes? Is it something we can all agree on? Or does peace smell different to everyone?

For me, peace has many smells, none of them perfume:

It is the smell of rain on hot cement.
The smell of tree resin.
The smell of grass.
The smell of fresh flowers.
The smell of dirt from New Jersey.
The smell of steaks on the grill.
The smell of honey in tea.
The smell of a book.
The smell of a rock.
The smell of clean air.
The smell of berries in the sun.
The smell of woodsmoke on the autumn wind.
The smell of sparklers on the Fourth of July.
The smell of the ocean in winter.
The smell of my car after a long day at work.
The smell of turnovers baking in the oven.
The smell of my body the day after I've showered.
The smell of a river during a storm.
The smell of fresh-fallen snow.
The smell of a gas range.

These are smells from different times in my life - from childhood onward. And they come from different places, north and south, here and abroad. But they all make me feel peaceful inside. I have a feeling each of us carries a very personal list of olfactory peacemakers in our minds. Have you ever stopped to consider yours?

I've known cats my entire life, literally from the cradle forward (our first Peter Cat would lick my toes in the crib, while our first George would play with my mobile). So to me the smell of peace is also the smell of cats. Especially their bellies. The warm, clean animal smell of their belly fur is like a tonic that washes away all things bad. The smell makes me breathe deeper and slower. It releases the tension in my own belly. It's a lot like frankincense without the frankincense.

Yes, I have found that complete peace can be found at home huffing cat fur. In fact, I'll bet that if Dorothy had had a cat, she probably wouldn't have run away from home. Not that Oz wasn't a cool place to visit, but...

There's no peace like home huffing cat fur.
There's no peace like home huffing cat fur.
There's no peace like home huffing cat fur.

Thank goodness my boys put up with me rubbing my face in their bellies. Little healers, that's what they are. God bless fur babies everywhere (doggies, too). And may you all find and enjoy the smells of peace every day of your lives - at home and out in the world.

P.S. While George, my writer's assistant, may appear to be zonked out napping, he is actually hard at work studying the writing style of thriller writer Don Winslow. Do not let the relaxed pose fool you. George is as diligent a writer's assistant as his brother Peter is a photographer's assistant. (Peter jumped in on the action while I was taking pictures of George. I told you he helps me on shoots!)

Vétiver Oriental - A Serge Lutens Alchemy of Mineral, Vegetable, Animal and Human

She swept through the undergrowth, her long cape flowing behind her, leather boots silent on the thick bed of leaves. The tall trees seemed to lean toward her as if to watch her progress. Clouds scudded across the moon, throwing shadow onto shadow.

A sudden whoosh of air next to her head startled her. She stopped and held her breath. Then she saw the dark shape swoop through the trees toward her. An owl, annoyed at her bold trespass onto his hunting ground. She laughed silently. Only an owl.

She took a deep breath then started again. As she walked her long fingers found the sueded leather pouch strapped across her hip. She felt its precious contents through the soft skin. The tightly wrapped wands of dried roots, the packets of mosses, herbs and spices, the pots of thick resins, the vials of golden oils. And the cool, hard stones. Three of them.

She very much wanted to pull out the stones, to see them sparkle in the moonlight, but she didn't dare. She couldn't risk losing them. The stones were the key. Without them the formula wouldn't work. The odd-eyed man had said so.

The odd-eyed man. The man with one eye green, one eye blue. "One eye to see the past, one eye to see the future, both eyes to see the present," he had told her.

That was the truth. But the odd-eyed man had lied about the stones. A well-intentioned lie meant to soothe her. If she knew the truth, she might not believe it. She wouldn't believe it. Funny, he thought, how people could put such faith in stones and so little in themselves. For the truth was, she was the key to the formula.

Without her, no transformation could take place. Without her, even the finest spices, herbs, roots, oils, resins and stones in the world could create no more than a pretty anodyne. And he had something quite different in mind. Something the world wasn't expecting. Something the world didn't even know it needed. A higher degree of perfection.

And so he sat in his hut deep in the woods waiting for her. Eager for the moment when mineral, vegetable, animal - the three kingdoms - would unite with the fourth - human - and be transformed. Transformed into a sumptuous elixir of untold facets. An elixir that would bridge the worlds of darkness and light. Soon, very soon, he thought.

It won't be long now, she thought, as she hurried to meet The Alchemist.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Serge Lutens Vétiver Oriental. I did not like it all the first few times I tried it. And now I wonder what I could have been thinking back then. This is by far one of the most interesting and compelling scents I've ever encountered. Darkness. Light. Bitter. Sweet. Cool. Warm. Its textural play of shadow and light is fascinating. And its dance on skin never boring. Just when you think you have it pegged, it presents another face.

If Serge Lutens is an Alchemist, as some have suggested, Vétiver Oriental is his ode to that profession and its three kingdoms. It is mineral, vegetable, and animal. But it takes the fourth kingdom, human, or in this case human skin, to transform it and bring it to life. This is truly a "skin scent" in the best sense of the words. It tricks you into thinking it's you and your skin that smell so delicious, not a perfume separate and apart from you.

If you're looking for a straight-up, classic take on vetiver, I'd suggest something like Chanel Sycomore, Santa Maria Novella Eva, Carven Vétiver or Guerlain Vétiver.

But if you want to experience a vetiver that twists and twirls to reveal many facets - one minute leathery and sharp, the next golden and boozy, the next sweet and powdery, and yet again medicinal and ancient - try this one.

The notes are said to include: sap; iris pallida; undergrowth notes; vetiver; gaiacwood; chocolate; musk; amber; mosses; sandalwood; labdanum; and benzoin.

The Lutens marketing copy calls Vétiver Oriental "vetiver scaled down to the richness and sumptuousness of its roots." Perhaps vetiver roots are this rich and sumptuous when they are pulled from the cool, dark mineral earth. I haven't yet had the pleasure of smelling them fresh, or even dried, so I can only imagine.

But having smelled Vétiver Oriental, I can understand why the Salons Shiseido website lists it as one of Les Somptueux, along with Muscs Koublai Khan, Ambre Sultan and Cuir Mauresque. That's where it belongs.

You can find this limited-edition Lutens from 2004 online and at some brick-and-mortar stores like Houston's Kuhl-Linscomb, for $140.

The word Alchemy is said to come from the Old French "alkemie" or the Arabic "al-kimia" - the art of transformation.

These Chanel Ads Should be for Perfume

The first thing that caught my eye in the August Vanity Fair was this series of ads for Chanel. I love them. They are the first ads in a long time that have captured my interest and made me look for more than a second or two.

I love the subdued lighting and the colors - they look hand-tinted. The clothes, the wig and the makeup are fun, too. But what really strikes me is how perfect these images are for selling perfume.

I would buy any perfume worn by the woman Claudia Schiffer is portraying in these shots. I absolutely would. And I am not one to be so easily swayed by advertising.

But I love the fantasy these pictures tell. In my mind, she is in a pre-war apartment somewhere in Paris, Munich, or some other European city with style. In the first shot she is day-dreaming about her lover, about what they will do together. In the second shot, she is doing whatever it is they do together (what that is is up to you, the viewer). In the third shot, she is watching him leave the building, thinking, He deserves that glove.

All the way through, it feels as if she is in control of the situation. This is a woman in charge of her sexuality and her pleasure. If she's on her hands and knees, it's because she wants to be, not because someone is intimidating or using her.

She is a strong woman. A beautiful woman. A woman capable of getting and keeping any man she wants. A woman who lives life on her terms. A woman who loves passionately.

Who wouldn't want to be that woman? She must smell incredible. Sexy but not raunchy. Strong but not overpowering. Feminine but not girly. She must smell like a real woman. Interesting. Mesmerizing. Tantalizing. And deep.

The only thing is, I can't think of an existing Chanel perfume that perfectly fits my little fantasy about this photo fantasy.

I thought at first that Coco or Cuir de Russie might do, but no, they're not quite right. Some might suggest Coromandel or Allure, but no, not subtle enough. And although it crossed my mind that No. 22 and No. 31 might work in that twisted, madonna-whore way, I rejected those, too.

You know what this means don't you? This means Chanel needs to create a perfume to match Karl Lagerfeld's photographic vision. So, Messieurs Polge and Sheldrake, if you don't mind? Something warm and rich, seductive and unforgettable would be lovely. Something that puts me in mind of all the best vintage perfumes but is something I haven't smelled before. Something known and yet surprising.

I think Gabrielle Chanel would like the woman in Karl's photos, and would appreciate a perfume that complements her style. Maybe it's the dark bob, but the spirit of Chanel is somehow alive in these shots. Well done, M. Lagerfeld. Gentlemen, I await the perfume.

Thoughts on a Perfume Wardrobe - Plus a Perfume Drawing

"Let me tell you what your perfumes say about you. They say, 'Sophisticated, elegant, and quirky.'"

That's what my friend Reggie told me last week. Not surprisingly, that made me feel good. Like someone was actually paying attention and maybe even "getting" me.

Not that I am sophisticated or elegant (though I definitely am quirky), but I wouldn't mind being those things. So if my perfume wardrobe is sending those messages out into the world, so much the better. I'd rather my fragrances signal those qualities than "she's desperate, boring, and clueless!"

But you know, until Reggie said that, I hadn't considered the overall impression my perfume choices might be making on others. I've just been taking it one day at a time, wearing what feels right and good to me. I haven't been connecting the dots between one scent of the day and the next. And I certainly haven't been trying to create anything cohesive, scent-wise.

I have a perfume wardrobe, but I've built it intuitively, not by design. My perfume style ranges from Dzing! to Cachet, from Shalimar to Eau Sauvage, from Fracas to Miel de Bois, and from Intimate to Poison. Not sure that fully illustrates it, but trust me, I am all over the place with what I like to wear. Much more so in perfume than in clothes.

Yet somehow, as broad and as varied as my perfume wardrobe is, Reggie was able to sum it up in three words. So there must be a common thread that runs throughout my fragrance wardrobe, even though I haven't looked for one until now.

If I had to name to it, I'd say the thread is personality. I like perfumes with personality. They have to be able to hold their own in a conversation with my skin, without being abrasive, loud or ugly. And they must tell an interesting story. Even if it's full of lies, the story should be engaging and replete with twists and turns. I've learned that simple scent tales, even if they're very pretty, bore me.

In fact, as I begin to edit my perfume collection, this is what I will be looking for. The scents with the most interesting personalities, the ones that tell the juiciest stories, whisper the best promises, and coo the sweetest words of passion will stay. Those that fail to tell me a rip-roaring good tale (or dance seductively well on my skin) will go to new homes. Yes, you'd better be a clever little scent courtesan, or off with your pretty little perfumed head!

I'll be setting up a Sale/Swap Page in the weeks to come, but in the meantime, I'd like to give away one perfectly good perfume. It's something I wore years ago and replenished recently, only to find I was no longer enamored with it.

If you think a full 3.4 oz bottle of Cabotine de Grès would make a nice addition to your perfume wardrobe, just leave me a comment. (Cabotine is a pretty, fresh green floral, perfect for summertime, for those who don't know it.) Don't worry if your comment doesn't show up right away, it will as soon as I approve it (which could take a few hours). I'll keep this drawing open through Friday, draw a name over the weekend, and announce the lucky winner next Monday, July 21st.

I hate to exclude readers living outside the U.S., but my post office is already acting hinky about sending perfume inside the States, so I must. My apologies.

Editor's Note 7/21/08: The winner of the Cabotine is Sharon! Congratulations! I'll be emailing you to get your information.

Special Thanks to My Photographer's Assistant, Peter Cat

With the exception of the beautiful photographs I occasionally wrangle out of my professional photographer friend Bill at ShootDC.com, all of the images on Scent Signals are shot by yours truly. As a media professional in real life, with friends who shoot for a living, I have issues with using other people's images without their permission. So I don't. My friends work hard at their craft, and for someone to come along and just take their work for their own project doesn't feel right to me.

It's definitely a gray area in the blogosphere. From what I've seen, some bloggers think it's cool to lift photos without permission so long as they give the person they've lifted from a photo credit and/or a link back to their site. As long as they're following the copyright guidelines posted by the photogs, fine. Though I'll bet most people will still want to know when their work is being used out there in cyberspace. Some bloggers sign up with photography sites that allow you to use images as long as you give the photographers credit and provide a link to their site, and they do play by the rules. That's totally cool.

It's those bloggers who don't bother to credit the original photographers or sources, who just take and use the images as if they were their own, who bother me. And I'm not talking about the sorts of images everyone has permission to use for free. I've seen images that were clearly taken by professional photographers - for museums, galleries, shops, and other organizations - used without any credit given. I find this astounding. And disrespectful.

My guess is those bloggers figure that because they're not selling products, the images they take from other sites fall under the fair-usage umbrella. That well may be. But it's still impolite. And even though they're not selling products, some bloggers are making good money selling advertising, so doesn't that change things, aren't they for-profits at that point?

I'd love to hear the opinions of fellow bloggers and blog readers, because I'm still figuring it all out. I've seen some great shots that would illustrate my articles perfectly, but I've held off using them because that tiny voice inside my head says it's not right unless I get permission. And since getting permission takes time, and I'm always slamming to get things done, I don't go that route. Am I being too uptight? Possibly. Probably. I just know how it feels to have your work ripped off, so I'm a little sensitive about it.

The upshot is I wind up taking lots and lots of photos for my blog. They don't all turn out great, but I think the majority of the shots that land on this site communicate my intended messages. And some of them are actually pretty decent, considering I'm not a pro and I don't have Photoshop.

I'll let you in on a little secret. The reason my photo shoots tend to go well is because I have some of the best photographic help in the world. My photographer's assistant, Peter Cat, is not only talented and conscientious, he's fun to work with. Anytime there's a shoot he is right there by my side offering inspiration and guidance. (The fact that he has the most irresistible, gloriously furry belly in the world is a bonus.)

He's always on time, prepared, and he knows how to keep things light, which any professional photog will tell you is critical to a shoot's success. Photographers also know how important a good cup of tea is to the creative process. So does Peter. That's why he is also my tea-making assistant. No matter what he's doing, he breaks to join me in the kitchen any time a fresh cup of tea is required. We gaze quietly at one another as the water heats. Then we get back to work. It's a zen thing.

So the next time you notice one of the photos here on Scent Signals, remember that it is the result of the teamwork and chemistry between Pete and yours truly. A true collaborative effort. If you look closely at the photos, you'll see the odd cat hair here and there as proof.

P.S. Lest you think Pete's brother, George (that's him in the pink boa at the top of the page), doesn't contribute to Scent Signals, he does. George is my writer's assistant.

Rub a Dub - Time to Stock Up on Soap for the Tub

Giant personal-care products producer Procter & Gamble just announced its most aggressive price hike since this latest oil fiasco began. Here's the scoop from Cosmetics Design-Europe.

Prices on P&G brand soaps, laundry detergents, dishwashing detergents and shaving products (and no doubt others) will rise noticeably in September. Which means now is a good time to stock up on these items, if you haven't already been doing so. The Sam's Clubs and Costcos of the world are probably digging this kind of news.

TJMaxx should be, too. That's where I head to look for deals on soaps. I love soaps. I love body washes, too, but I love smooth, hard bars of soap even more. Especially when the soap smells delicious. Pictured are just two of the yummy soaps I've found at TJMaxx.

The pineapple soaps smell incredibly rich and buttery - they're very nearly edible. They're from the Greenwich Bay Trading Co. in Raleigh, North Carolina. The Red Garden soap is from Portugal and smells just like Christian LaCroix Tumulte for Women. The label says its aromatic composition is made in France, so who knows. I've already been through a bar of this lightly rosy and spicy soap and am hanging onto this one, hoping to find others like it at the Maxx. Both soaps lather brilliantly.

I really like the heft of supersize bars of soap like The Red Garden, but if your hands are smaller like mine, you might find them hard to handle. So sometimes I cut them into halves or thirds. I don't think it makes them last any longer, it just makes them easier to hang onto when they're slick (these big bars hurt when you drop them on your toes).

Of course, if you're going to use soap, especially ones with lots of cocoa and shea butter, you need a little exfoliating action to make you feel clean and not like you've just slicked on a layer of fat. I like exfoliating mitts, which I call scrubby gloves. They're the easiest way I've found to lather up and exfoliate at the same time. They travel well, too - just throw them in their own plastic bag and go.

One more soapy note. When I first moved to Houston, land of heat and humidity, I noticed that my sweat, my body odor, smelled different (read: AMAZINGLY STRONG AND HORRIBLE) than it had in other towns in Texas and Florida (also hot and humid). I remember trying to attack the bacteria making that horrid smell with different antibacterial soaps, but they just made it worse.

It was as if the bacteria were fighting back by making their excrement smell as bad as they could before the soap killed them. You do know that that's what you're smelling when you smell B.O. - the excrement of bacteria, who've been munching on your perspiration and oils, right? I know. Eeeeewwww.

Anyway, as soon as I quit using antibacterial soap, the little suckers settled down and I started smelling better. I know it's counterintuitive to every advertisement you've ever seen, but if you have a problem with sharp, offensive body odor, stop using antibacterial soap. You'll notice a difference within a day or two. But make sure you are exfoliating. Those dead skin cells have to go or they will add a funk of their own.

The moral of this soap story? A good bar of regular soap is a nice thing to have around. Especially when it smells divine. So get some before it gets too expensive to enjoy.

(Does that scrubby glove remind anyone else of Thing?!)

A Trend I Like: Perfume in Smaller Bottles

I'm not much of a follower, so I've never slavishly followed fashion or other trends. If I like something, I'll adopt it - on my schedule - whether or not it's in vogue at the time. Same goes for perfume. I'm game to try as many perfume releases as they want to throw out there, but I won't buy a scent simply because it's the "new thing." Actually, I seem to have a thing for scents that aren't "in" or getting a lot of attention on the blogs.

That said, there is one current perfume trend I do like: companies offering scents in smaller-size bottles. They've been around for years, of course, as parfums sac, or purse sprays. But the earlier incarnation of the smaller scent bottle was usually filled with pure parfum from a higher-end line (like my Rochas parfum sprays there on the left), so it was still fairly expensive, and still a luxury.

Not anymore. Today's electronic newsletter from trendsetting French company Sephora contains 63 smaller-size perfume offerings. The least expensive costs $10, the most expensive, $77 (for a limited edition bottle). There are eaux de toilettes, eaux de parfums and perfume oils in sprays and rollerballs (and even scented towelettes). The volumes vary, but they're all conveniently sized for travel and other real-life situations. And some of them look just as handsome as a more expensive parfum sac.

What I like about this trend is it allows us to collect new perfumes without breaking the bank or taking up so much storage space, lets us give new scents we think we might love but don't want to totally commit to a test-run without killing our wallets, makes gift-giving easier and less expensive, and best of all, makes perfume affordable and available to more consumers. In this strange economy, these are all very good things. So, kudos to those perfume makers who are jumping on board the small-bottle train. I hope even more of you decide to do so.

Random Thoughts: Freedom on the Fourth

Spent the day enjoying and appreciating my freedom. Which meant reading, snacking, napping, and watching and smelling the spectacular rain we had today. It was a relatively quiet storm, very little scary lightning and thunder, just buckets and buckets of much-needed rain.

George loves that kind of weather as much as I do, so he and I sat out on the balcony and just soaked it in. Peter came out to check on us every few minutes. He's my big tomcat, but he's also the scaredy cat in the family. Any thunder and he heads for the hills, or behind the sofa, whichever is closer.

I was actually a little pensive today and not because it rained. A line from an article in Newsweek kept coming back to me. It's in this article, The Booze is Back in Baghdad. It details how a more liberal, secular culture is returning to some Iraqi neighborhoods. Merchants are getting back to work, having had to close their shops a couple of years ago due to death threats from religious extremists.

What struck me is what a hairdresser, who's been able to reopen her salon, said, "Women want to look beautiful again." I'm betting they've wanted to look beautiful all along. They just didn't want to be maimed or killed for it.

It's difficult for us who live with such an amazing amount of freedom to understand a culture that would threaten and even kill its women for wanting to look good. Or mutilate their genitalia in order to control them and keep them from enjoying sex. Or murder them simply for falling in love with the "wrong" man. Different countries, different outrages, same victims.

Things still aren't equal between the sexes in this country, but we have it pretty darn good. I hope we realize it.

When we while away hours online reading about perfume and makeup.

When we go shopping at the mall.

When we get dressed to go to work or on a date.

I hope we appreciate that we are free to read what we want, buy what we want, and wear what we want. If we appreciate something we are more likely to want to protect it.

Tonight there were fireworks. Took some pictures, but as I did I realized that fireworks are whole lot better when you look straight at them. They lose a lot of their impact when you watch them through a viewfinder. On the plus side, I got off a couple of cool shots.

Hope you had a happy Fourth, and that you enjoy and appreciate your freedom.

A Cat Tale of Two Scents: Valerian and Spikenard

I love cats because I love my home, and after a while they become its visible soul. - Jean Cocteau

A while back, I brought home a bottle of valerian capsules. Valerian is reputed to be a sleep aid, and I thought it might help me relax and get a better night's sleep. Have you ever sniffed valerian root? It's quite an odor. A complex brew of dirty gym socks, sweet urine, and whiskey-soaked wood. I wouldn't call it bad, but I know some would. It's one of those scents you can find interesting, once you've gotten over the initial shock. If you're into smelling things the way I am, that is.

My cat, George, found it enchanting. As soon as I opened the bottle, he nudged his nose into it. I tried to pull it away but he wouldn't let me. His eyes dilated and he got wilder than he ever has sniffing catnip. He went a little crazy actually, batting at me for access to the bottle. But in a nice way. There's not a mean cell in George, even when he's tipsy. His brother, Peter, was far less impressed by the valerian. Ho-hum, said he.

Then a few weeks ago, I ordered a bottle of spikenard (nardostachys jatamansi) from my favorite essential oil provider, Gritman Essential Oils. I was curious to know how it smelled, especially since spikenard was in the precious ointment Mary Magdelene used to wash Jesus's feet. I'm not at all certain that this is the "nard" in the Bible, but it could be. Perhaps a Biblical scholar can let me know.

I also ordered several other essential oils along with the spikenard. As soon as I got the box in the door, George pounced on it and tried to open it. He had to get at whatever was inside. I didn't know which essential oil he was after, so I hurriedly opened the box to find out. The bottles were all sealed with plastic and none had leaked. Yet one of them was calling out to George.

I presented the bottles to George, who dutifully sniffed each one in turn, and it was obvious that it was the spikenard that had attracted him. He grabbed it and drooled on it. Of course, all of this excitement attracted Peter, who, it turned out, also likes spikenard. I unsealed the bottle and put a drop of spikenard inside the cardboard box, so they could sniff it. The photos reveal what happened next. Notice the slobber and bite marks on the box.

Spikenard is not a classically pretty scent. It is like the most medicinal patchouli you've ever smelled mixed with camphor, wood smoke and earth. Not pretty but extremely compelling. It smells like something straight out of antiquity. I can easily imagine it being used in an ointment in Biblical times.

And what I find especially interesting is that valerian and spikenard are closely related. The two aromas George went bonkers for are connected. If I'd read the information about the spikenard I would've known that the two plants were related, too. But George knew it before I did, in his cat way. I think that's cool.

There is, incidentally, no way of talking about cats that enables one to come off as a sane person. - Dan Greenberg