Anne Marie Walsh, owner of Pappineau Studio, is having a special fete this afternoon at her Litchfield, Connecticut boutique (located in the Bantam section). She'll feature a meet and greet of local artisans, and although I won't be able to be there for more than an hour--my artisan perfumes and sprays will be there all day--every day!
Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes and aromatherapy products are distributed exclusively through Pappineau Studio.
If you've never been to the studio, you'll find it absolutely enchanting. Anne Marie is very talented, and she's done a fabulous job of editing her offerings to include the finest, most beautiful creations produced by local artisans who call The Litchfield Hills their home. You won't be disappointed. She has everything from hand-crafted jewelery (some which she's made herself; it's very delicate and elegant) to wall paintings to unique gourmet baking mixes that she creates in a commercial kitchen next door to the studio. And, of course, as I mentioned earlier: my artisan perfumes are at the studio.
Remember: Valentine's Day is coming... . Next weekend.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Sunday, August 30, 2009
saudade or longing
The inspiration for saudade, (pronounced so-daj), my most recent artisan perfume, comes from the sea. "Saudade" is a Portuguese word used to express nostalgia and longing. This is the first new fragrance--a floral scent--that I've created in more than a year.
During the summer months, I am humbled to often be invited for weekend visits to the summer home of friends who have a beautiful place along the Connecticut shoreline. During these visits, I am lulled to sleep by the waves. On clear nights, especially when the moon holds full court, a beautiful stream of light dances through a door that leads to a balcony overlooking the Sound.
One night this summer, the scene was especially dramatic. The confluence of natural wonders--the waves, the moon, the stars--evoked a sense of longing and nostalgia, saudade, if you will, for sweeter, happier times--in the past and those yet to come. You probably know this feeling, too; the sea seems to have the ability to make us all more contemplative.
saudade is composed with nine all-natural botanical essences, including the magnificent florals of magnolia, rose, jasmine, orange flower blossoms, orchid, and hibiscus. The rare boronia absolute from Tasmania is considered by many perfumers to be the most beautiful floral fragrance in all the world, and it is used as an accessory note in this artisan perfume.
This particular perfume is blended in a base of jojoba oil instead of perfumer's alcohol. So it is truly an all-natural perfume--a perfume oil--in every sense of the word: it's not just the botanical essences themselves that are completely natural, but also the base in which they are blended. Oil-based perfumes typically adhere to the skin better and longer than do scents that are alcohol based.
The scent is packaged in a vintage, classic Chanel-type bottle and sells for $150 for a 1/3 ounce bottle, plus tax and shipping charges. I will also be taking orders for the perfume on Saturday, September 5 at All About Accessories in Litchfield. Each perfume will be blended by hand and packaged in a lovely vintage, Chanel-type bottle--and available for pick up in early November, just in time for the holidays.
During the summer months, I am humbled to often be invited for weekend visits to the summer home of friends who have a beautiful place along the Connecticut shoreline. During these visits, I am lulled to sleep by the waves. On clear nights, especially when the moon holds full court, a beautiful stream of light dances through a door that leads to a balcony overlooking the Sound.
One night this summer, the scene was especially dramatic. The confluence of natural wonders--the waves, the moon, the stars--evoked a sense of longing and nostalgia, saudade, if you will, for sweeter, happier times--in the past and those yet to come. You probably know this feeling, too; the sea seems to have the ability to make us all more contemplative.
Sweet, floral scents have not been especially popular the past few years. However, as the New York Times' Chandler Burr recently wrote in the Times' Style Magazine, "Maybe what we need now is a seriously happy fruit salad." He points out that, "Historically, this is the precedent. Jean Patou created the classic fragrance Joy in 1930 at the start of the Depression--it was allegedly the most expensive perfume in the world--and I swear I smelled it on Fifth Avenue a few weeks ago. In plush times, it came off as an outdated French floral, a 100-carat diamond. Too much. In the summer of 2009, it smelled resolute, determined and weirdly appropriate."
saudade is composed with nine all-natural botanical essences, including the magnificent florals of magnolia, rose, jasmine, orange flower blossoms, orchid, and hibiscus. The rare boronia absolute from Tasmania is considered by many perfumers to be the most beautiful floral fragrance in all the world, and it is used as an accessory note in this artisan perfume.
This particular perfume is blended in a base of jojoba oil instead of perfumer's alcohol. So it is truly an all-natural perfume--a perfume oil--in every sense of the word: it's not just the botanical essences themselves that are completely natural, but also the base in which they are blended. Oil-based perfumes typically adhere to the skin better and longer than do scents that are alcohol based.
The scent is packaged in a vintage, classic Chanel-type bottle and sells for $150 for a 1/3 ounce bottle, plus tax and shipping charges. I will also be taking orders for the perfume on Saturday, September 5 at All About Accessories in Litchfield. Each perfume will be blended by hand and packaged in a lovely vintage, Chanel-type bottle--and available for pick up in early November, just in time for the holidays.
An important lesson I have learned through my work as an artisan perfumer is that blending a beautiful fragrance is a metaphor for everything worthwhile that we undertake: it requires faith and patience. Faith that the outcome will justify the effort involved--and patience for the process itself. All of my newly-blended perfumes are set aside in a dark cabinet for several weeks and left completely untouched--a necessary step to ensure that the essential oils coalesce and marry.
Meanwhile, while we wait and ponder perfume and other matters, here is the profoundly sad, but infinitely lovely Cancao do Mar (Song of the Sea). If saudade had it's own musical interpretation, it would likely be this Fado song.
Fado, as explained by a friend who knows about such things, is Portuguese folk music. Often, they are songs about the sea. "It is the most beautiful and exquisite of folk music," he told me. "Fado conveys hurt, tragedy, longing, sadness, and aloneness. It is the sense of loss that haunts the great Fado songs and singers. But, withal, it is beautiful."
Indeed. It was such nostalgic thoughts that inspired saudade on one summer's night.
Fado, as explained by a friend who knows about such things, is Portuguese folk music. Often, they are songs about the sea. "It is the most beautiful and exquisite of folk music," he told me. "Fado conveys hurt, tragedy, longing, sadness, and aloneness. It is the sense of loss that haunts the great Fado songs and singers. But, withal, it is beautiful."
Indeed. It was such nostalgic thoughts that inspired saudade on one summer's night.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The joy of discovery
It was recently reported that a team of archaeologists uncovered perfumes and ointments that were used during the lifetime of Jesus Christ. The group was digging in the Biblical town of Magdala, now called Migdal, which has prompted the leading archaeologist on the project to hypothesize that the perfumes may have been the same ones used by Mary Magdalene to anoint the feet of Jesus a few days before his crucifixion.
The perfumes and ointments are currently undergoing chemical analyses, and it will be interesting to see what that reveals. It is thought that the oil which Mary Magdalene used to anoint Jesus' feet was Spikenard or "Nard." There are a few references to Spikenard in the Bible. One is found in the authorized King James Version: St. John 12:3.
Spikenard's scent is a combination of earthy and green. It's a little bit sweet, too. Its scientific name is Nardostachys jatamansi. The aromatic oil is obtained by steam distilling the plant's roots and rhizome.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Dark Scents
The time is dark. It is a period in history that I never thought I would live to see, but as I write this post—my first since last February—there is a pervasive malaise throughout the entire world. We are unsure of what to expect next. People are losing their homes, their jobs or businesses, their personal rights—and many continue to lose their very life as they fight for us in faraway places in the name of freedom.
It is not my intent to espouse any particular political viewpoint in a perfume blog; I am merely referencing the times in which we live.
This darkness that enfolds us—even during daylight hours—reminds me of a discussion launched by one of my professors when I was studying at seminary. While horrible things happen in the dead of night, darkness can also yield to happiness. I think it does us good, during times like these, to remember this.
As we journey together through this very long night in our lives, it is my hope that we will all remember the good things that happen in the dark: Lovers come together, babies are born, prayers are delivered to the Creator, stars shine beautifully against a velvet backdrop, and our bodies rest and renew.
(Also, a beautiful, black homeless cat, who came up to Connecticut on the Wheels of Hope transport van from the Mayor’s Alliance of NYC, now lives with me. Cats are nocturnal, and so Audrey plays happily in her new home with her new toys--all night.)
Last year, I was asked if I would be interested in delivering a lecture on “The Dark Scents.” At the time, it didn’t seem like something that would fit into my schedule. Lately, however, I have been thinking a lot about the “dark scents” that are used in my artisan perfumes. These are the heavy, natural extracts such as patchouli, oud, labdanum, and oak moss, for example. On their own, they are not always so loved; however, add a drop or two to a happy blend—such as one featuring pink grapefruit, yuzu or bergamot—and the perfume takes on more depth and breadth. It becomes more interesting and develops a personality. Dark scents offer you an “experience,” not a clean-smelling mask. They’re real, exotic and animalic. One perfumer even describes wearing dark scents as akin to having a tail hanging out from beneath your dress.
These darker scents are typically used as base notes in perfumery. Think of them as accent notes—like a teaspoon of vanilla extract is to chocolate chip cookie dough. Although vanilla is not a dark scent, hopefully you understand the analogy: A little bit of a dark scent goes a long way in a perfume blend.
I will write more about the dark scents in the very near future and examine many of them, individually, in detail in this blog. Yes, I am back to blogging. I promise.
Oh, and I have decided to revisit the invitation to lecture on dark scents. Attendees will be able to experience, firsthand, some of the darkest, most exotic scents on the face of the earth. As soon as the date is pinned down, I will be sure to let you know. The lecture will take place in Litchfield County, in Torrington.
In the meantime, I will leave you with this thought: If the dark—whether it be dark scents, the dark of night or those dark periods of our lives—causes us to slow down, scares us a little and shakes us to our core, is that really so bad? At least for me, it is during the dark times when I realize what is most important in my life. I wish the same for each of you.
As I end this post on a cold, dark night, one of my favorite songs—referencing my favorite scent—comes to mind. As we now enter into the holiday season, I hope you will recognize that even during the bleakest of times: Lo! how a rose e’re blooming.
The fragrance of rose becomes ever more beautiful when graced with the dark scent of patchouli.
It is not my intent to espouse any particular political viewpoint in a perfume blog; I am merely referencing the times in which we live.
This darkness that enfolds us—even during daylight hours—reminds me of a discussion launched by one of my professors when I was studying at seminary. While horrible things happen in the dead of night, darkness can also yield to happiness. I think it does us good, during times like these, to remember this.
As we journey together through this very long night in our lives, it is my hope that we will all remember the good things that happen in the dark: Lovers come together, babies are born, prayers are delivered to the Creator, stars shine beautifully against a velvet backdrop, and our bodies rest and renew.
(Also, a beautiful, black homeless cat, who came up to Connecticut on the Wheels of Hope transport van from the Mayor’s Alliance of NYC, now lives with me. Cats are nocturnal, and so Audrey plays happily in her new home with her new toys--all night.)
Last year, I was asked if I would be interested in delivering a lecture on “The Dark Scents.” At the time, it didn’t seem like something that would fit into my schedule. Lately, however, I have been thinking a lot about the “dark scents” that are used in my artisan perfumes. These are the heavy, natural extracts such as patchouli, oud, labdanum, and oak moss, for example. On their own, they are not always so loved; however, add a drop or two to a happy blend—such as one featuring pink grapefruit, yuzu or bergamot—and the perfume takes on more depth and breadth. It becomes more interesting and develops a personality. Dark scents offer you an “experience,” not a clean-smelling mask. They’re real, exotic and animalic. One perfumer even describes wearing dark scents as akin to having a tail hanging out from beneath your dress.
These darker scents are typically used as base notes in perfumery. Think of them as accent notes—like a teaspoon of vanilla extract is to chocolate chip cookie dough. Although vanilla is not a dark scent, hopefully you understand the analogy: A little bit of a dark scent goes a long way in a perfume blend.
I will write more about the dark scents in the very near future and examine many of them, individually, in detail in this blog. Yes, I am back to blogging. I promise.
Oh, and I have decided to revisit the invitation to lecture on dark scents. Attendees will be able to experience, firsthand, some of the darkest, most exotic scents on the face of the earth. As soon as the date is pinned down, I will be sure to let you know. The lecture will take place in Litchfield County, in Torrington.
In the meantime, I will leave you with this thought: If the dark—whether it be dark scents, the dark of night or those dark periods of our lives—causes us to slow down, scares us a little and shakes us to our core, is that really so bad? At least for me, it is during the dark times when I realize what is most important in my life. I wish the same for each of you.
As I end this post on a cold, dark night, one of my favorite songs—referencing my favorite scent—comes to mind. As we now enter into the holiday season, I hope you will recognize that even during the bleakest of times: Lo! how a rose e’re blooming.
The fragrance of rose becomes ever more beautiful when graced with the dark scent of patchouli.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Awesome attributes of natural perfumes
Those who are unfamiliar with natural, artisan perfumes usually want to know what's so special about them. In fact, I am always asked this question whenever I do a media interview.
What's so interesting to me, however, is that my answer has never appeared in any of the numerous articles that have been written about Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes. It seems as if my honesty embarrasses journalists.
As a writer myself, I find it somewhat troubling that in their stories other writers skip over the inspiration behind my perfumes--especially when they've asked why I like to create them.
So I decided to take matters into my own hands and attempt to explain this passion of mine.
It's actually very straightforward. The ingredients used in my perfumes come solely from parts of plants such as flowers, roots, leaves, stems, seeds, and bark--and also from resins found in trees. Because of my love for animals, I do not work with honey, ambergris (whale vomit) or musk oil (which is, thankfully, illegal now in most countries).
Of course, the thing that I love about a natural, artisan perfume is its fragrance. Natural scents, extracted from plants in nature, are pure and honest. They are true, and those who know me know that I've always been a seeker of the truth.
You know that pretty rose scent you smell at the department store perfume counter? I hate to break it to you, but it's fake. It came from a test tube in some scientific laboratory.
A real rose, like the natural rose essential oils, absolutes and concretes that I use in my perfume creations, is more complicated than its "test tube baby" counterpart. The type of rose, and the area of the world from which it comes, will determine its aromatic characteristics. But no matter whether the rose is French, Indian, Egyptian, Morrocan, Bulgarian, or Russian--a real rose will always have more depth than a synthetic.
Typically, the "real" rose will not be so sickenly sweet as that which is synthetically created.
So there is the fragrance of true plant materials that I find alluring.
But even more than that, there's this: The aromas that compose natural perfumes are created by a Creator, not a creator. And to me, that is the most precious part about working as a natural, artisan perfumer. When I blend a beautiful perfume with natural scents, I view the process as both an homage to and a gift from my Creator.
There is never a time that I am not in awe of God and His creation, and this is especially so when I'm working with His fragrant materials.
What's so interesting to me, however, is that my answer has never appeared in any of the numerous articles that have been written about Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes. It seems as if my honesty embarrasses journalists.
As a writer myself, I find it somewhat troubling that in their stories other writers skip over the inspiration behind my perfumes--especially when they've asked why I like to create them.
So I decided to take matters into my own hands and attempt to explain this passion of mine.
It's actually very straightforward. The ingredients used in my perfumes come solely from parts of plants such as flowers, roots, leaves, stems, seeds, and bark--and also from resins found in trees. Because of my love for animals, I do not work with honey, ambergris (whale vomit) or musk oil (which is, thankfully, illegal now in most countries).
Of course, the thing that I love about a natural, artisan perfume is its fragrance. Natural scents, extracted from plants in nature, are pure and honest. They are true, and those who know me know that I've always been a seeker of the truth.
You know that pretty rose scent you smell at the department store perfume counter? I hate to break it to you, but it's fake. It came from a test tube in some scientific laboratory.
A real rose, like the natural rose essential oils, absolutes and concretes that I use in my perfume creations, is more complicated than its "test tube baby" counterpart. The type of rose, and the area of the world from which it comes, will determine its aromatic characteristics. But no matter whether the rose is French, Indian, Egyptian, Morrocan, Bulgarian, or Russian--a real rose will always have more depth than a synthetic.
Typically, the "real" rose will not be so sickenly sweet as that which is synthetically created.
So there is the fragrance of true plant materials that I find alluring.
But even more than that, there's this: The aromas that compose natural perfumes are created by a Creator, not a creator. And to me, that is the most precious part about working as a natural, artisan perfumer. When I blend a beautiful perfume with natural scents, I view the process as both an homage to and a gift from my Creator.
There is never a time that I am not in awe of God and His creation, and this is especially so when I'm working with His fragrant materials.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Is it really the holidays? Already? Really?
Oh my goodness. It's December. When did that happen? The only decorating I've done so far for the holidays is to install my annual Christmas wreaths on the front door and put a pot of red poinsettias on my fireplace mantle. This year's wreath photo is bleary; the digital cam is acting up because it's so cold here in Litchfield County. Truly, it's more like mid-winter than autumn.
Although my intentions are good, I'm really not sure if I'll get the tree up. It's still sitting in Bill's warehouse, in pieces, stashed away in an old truck he has stored in there.
I did manage to wrangle the tree decorations down from the top shelf of a closet--just in case they're needed. While going through boxes of ornaments, I stumbled upon Cecily's tiny Christmas stocking that I used to hang on the fireplace and fill with catnip mice. If there is room, I will likely store it in the memory box which contains her ashes.
After 17 years, this is the first Christmas without my kitty. As many of you know, she passed away July 25. I'm not getting over losing her, but I am getting through it OK. Those of you who are true animal lovers will understand. Those who aren't, won't.
Last summer, I created a special perfume in memory of Cecily and presented it to certain friends who played an important role in her life. The scent proved extremely popular, and many who received a bottle are asking for refills. I decided to offer this scent during the holidays, and 50 percent of the sales from each bottle of Cecily perfume sold now through December 31 will be donated to a Connecticut cat orphanage.
Cecily, the perfume, is a floral-citrus which features magnolia absolute and yuzu. It's quiet, elegant--and unforgettable.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Clear and Refreshing Cypress
We've had a quintessential autumn weekend here in Northwest Connecticut. There was a distinct chill in the air, which served as a warning to New Englanders not to get too used to the unseasonably warm weather that visited our doorstep earlier in the week.
While the leaves won't peak with brilliant jewel-like colors until later this month, the natural beauty of the region's landscape still offers many surprises both natural and man made. It's so very true that there are many treasures right in one's own backyard--as my friend Jennifer and three of her four girls and I discovered yesterday when we set out to explore Litchfield County through the lens of gentler times and a genteel life in a bucolic setting.
Our afternoon at Topsmead State Forest started with a picnic lunch, although we were so cold we couldn't even taste our food! But we really didn't mind; we knew that we were in a special place and that a lovely afternoon was in store. Topsmead, which means "top of the meadow," is like a visit to the 19th century English Cotswolds. The 511-acre estate, with its gently rolling hills and picturesque Tudor-style cottage, was bequeathed to the State of Connecticut for its people's enjoyment by Miss Edith Morton Chase, a woman of considerable wealth and breeding who was born into a prominent Waterbury, Connecticut family. (Her father was the president of Chase Brass Company.)
Although I have lived in Litchfield County for almost six years, yesterday was my first visit to Topsmead (and it is literally 15 minutes from my home).
Topsmead is unlike any of Connecticut's other state parks in that there is an intimate feel about the place. The four acres immediately surrounding the 3,000-square foot summer home that Miss Chase built are maintained as a formal area. And although there are woods to hike in, Jenn, the girls and I stuck to strolling through the peaceful meadows with their wide, manicured paths.
As we walked in the area designated as the butterfly garden, it was obvious that not all of the butterflies had left yet for their migratory trip down south. It was a delightful walk, and the girls seemed to have a great time running alongside the flying Monarchs, doing cartwheels on the pathways and pointing out the presence of Red-Tailed hawks and Swallows flying above us.
After our walk, we returned to the mansion to take a tour. Originally built as a small cabin in 1917, Miss Chase expanded the structure into a Tudor-style mansion/cottage/home (the tour guide used all three terms yesterday) with the help of a prominent architect some six years later. The house itself was simple and elegant. Most of its furnishings were created in England in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries.
But it was really the outside of the house that caught my eye. The exterior is crafted of stucco and brick--and the wood is cypress! I have attached a photo.
Let me tell you a little of what I know about essential oil of cypress. Its scent is clear and refreshing--and it's also a bit spice-like and very woodsy. It's the perfect oil to describe yesterday's autumn outing in fragrant terms.
Cypress tress are tall evergreens that have small flowers and round, brownish cones. The essential oil is extracted from the tree's leaves and cones by the method of distillation. Cypress scent blends particularly well with lavender, grapefruit, lemon, lime, orange, and pine.
In my work as an artisan perfumer I sometimes use essential oil of cypress when I am creating scents for men.
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