Notes from The Hills

Pumpkin Pie: more than meets the eye

2011-09-05T18:44:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends,

While fall doesn't officially begin until September 23, I tend to view the day after Labor Day as its unofficial start. I think many people feel this way. The days are beginning to surrender some of their light, and the scent in the air is subtly changing from "green" and "floral" to "crisp" and "woodsy." I love all seasons, but I have to say that fall is my favorite.

There are some changes in the works this fall. Ann Marie Walsh, owner of Papineau Studio, is moving her business this month. Papineau Studio is the exclusive "bricks and mortar" purveyor of Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes. Ann Marie will remain in the Bantam section of Litchfield on Rt. 202, but she's moving to a more intimate, boutique-like space that is closer in to Litchfield Center. I'll share details, such as exact address and phone number, as soon as I have them.

In the meantime, I can be contacted via my website at www.melaniemcmillan.com.

Also, I've had many requests for my popular holiday room spray (the cinnamon, pine and clove scent that is also antibacterial!), so rest assured, everyone, it will be offered again this holiday season. If you find that you need several bottles (for hostess gifts, and other gift giving) please consider pre-ordering. This limited-edition holiday spray always sells out quickly!

The holiday environmental spray, along with some other fragrant Christmas items, will launch at the "new" Papineau Studio over Thanksgiving weekend.

Finally, I'd like to leave you with a thought. Experience this season in its full glory. Don't just view fall in terms of its rich colors, but also remember its deep, vibrant scents that accompany those beautiful colors. Admire the changing colors of the leaves with your eyes, but smell them, too, and think about how you personally interpret their scent.

And if you follow this link, you'll learn there's more to Pumpkin Pie than meets the eye.

Heartfelt wishes for a lovely autumn,
Melanie

Can you say hot flash?

2010-08-05T21:47:00.001-05:00

After much research, combined with a lot of soul searching, this coming fall I will be opening an online store on my website, http://www.melaniemcmillan.com/. In addition to offering my luxury, hand-blended all-natural artisan perfumes, I will also launch an expanded aromatherapy line of products.

I'm especially excited about the products I have created specifically for women in midlife, which I'm calling my "Evolutions" line.

Also, I have developed a line of all-natural, aromatherapy-based items to keep your home sparkling clean and fresh smelling.

Stay tuned! My online store will launch this fall.

Today's event in Litchfield

2010-02-06T08:31:00.001-05:00

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.

saudade or longing

2009-08-30T10:47:00.004-05:00

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.

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.

The joy of discovery

2008-12-14T17:57:00.005-05:00

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.

The Dark Scents

2008-11-16T21:56:00.009-05:00

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.

Awesome attributes of natural perfumes

2008-02-19T21:33:00.008-05:00

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.

Is it really the holidays? Already? Really?

2007-12-05T15:08:00.000-05:00

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.

Clear and Refreshing Cypress

2007-10-14T19:47:00.000-05:00

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.

An autumn icon

2007-09-26T18:34:00.000-05:00

Where did the summer go? Everywhere I turn these days I see that lacy little harbinger of late summer and early autumn: Queen Anne's Lace, also known as Wild Carrot (Daucas carota). If you rub the plant's leaves and stem, its fragrant molecules will actually leave a subtle carrot scent on your fingers.

I have used essential oil of carrot seed in my aromatherapy practice and also as an artisan perfumer. The fragrant oil, which has a mild, dry scent, is obtained by distilling the plant's seeds. Essential oil of carrot seed is a top note.

As an artisan perfumer I have used it successfully in clean-smelling, herbaceous blends. I have also found that it provides body to citrus perfumes--but a little carrot seed goes a long way, so I always use it very sparingly.

In aromatherapy, essential oil of carrot is used for skin problems because of its cytophylactic properties (in plain English that means it encourages growth of new skin cells). Essential oil of carrot seed is also known to be cleansing to the body and mind.

In Ancient Greece, the carrot was thought to have great medicinal value.

Lessons on living

2007-08-05T14:05:00.001-05:00

Cecily

1991-July 25, 2007

Connecticut's Litchfield Hills have always seemed to act as a sort of balm for me, a fortress during the difficult times. And now is no exception.

On July 25, my best friend passed away. If you've ever lost someone especially dear--and who hasn't?--then you understand how I'm feeling. For the past 11 days I've been walking around with my heart detached from my body. I am numb. I guess another way of putting it is that I seem to be "going through the motions." And even at that, I'm not doing a very good job.

The nights are the worst, of course. I lie in bed and think too much. Fortunately, essential oil of Frankincense, which has been regarded throughout the ages as a source of tangible comfort for those who are grieving or dying, has been a big help.

In fact, I explain how Frankincense helps those who are grief stricken or undergoing the transition into death in a June 17 post that was a harbinger of what would soon happen in my own life: http://baileymcmillanperfumes.blogspot.com/2007/06/passing-through.html.

Now that I think about it, back when I wrote that post I probably knew, somewhere deep in my being, that my sweet, aging friend--who had been ill and was not getting any better and was beginning to suffer--was probably going to leave me soon. Perhaps, if the truth be told, I wrote that post more for myself than for any of my blog readers.

Someone once asked me why I love to live in The Litchfield Hills. I believe it's because of the region's natural beauty. It gives me so much peace.

When I turned on the local news this morning, the weather forecaster proclaimed today one of this summer's "Top 10." With that kind of endorsement, in spite of feeling rather dull and uninterested in the things around me right now, I simply had to make an effort to get out and go for a walk.

Although I live in an urban area of Litchfield County, natural beauty still abounds. There is a stream running through the property--and a woods. I have seen a Blue Heron coast from the sky to gracefully lite on a rock in the stream, and a family of Snowshoe Rabbits and a host of other critters such as frogs, squirrels, feral cats, and chipmunks share the land that surrounds my home.

Animals teach us so much--if only we will listen. What resonated with me today is how they help bring us into the present. Think about it: All of creation lives in the moment. The frogs aren't fretting about yesterday, and the stray tabby cat is not focused on tomorrow. All of God's beings are living in the present--with the exception of human beings, who are worried about everything under the sun. We're so busy worrying about yesterday and fretting over what might happen tomorrow that we can't think straight today!

But I think that it has to please the Creator when we put aside our fears and frets and become engaged with the present moment.

From my days studying for my master's degree at Hartford Seminary, I do remember that Eastern religions advocate this state of simply being in the moment. In the Christian realm it was St. Francis who advised that when we slow down and take notice of the creation around us, we are in fact offering prayer and praise to God.

My walk today helped me to remember what it feels like to live in the moment (which is very different from living for the moment). For at least a little while, I was able to focus my thoughts, not on my friend's death, but on what was immediately in my line of sight.

During my walk I did not put myself through the "if only this had been done, or that had been done" scenarios, nor did I speculate about what tomorrow will bring. As I walked, I simply experienced the moment at hand--which is something that animals do as part of their very essence.

God touched me today through the healing power of nature. I have been reminded of the peace and serenity that will come from simply being--if only we will open ourselves to the experience.

The hills are alive

2007-08-01T17:54:00.000-05:00

Although I'm not physically there, if I close my eyes I can still smell the perfumed landscape of Provence. It's August, and that means it's lavender season. Simply drive down the back country roads of the region and your car will be filled with the lovely scent of summer.

Farmers are harvesting their lavender crops right about now, and lavender festivals throughout the southern part of France are in full swing. The mountains and hills literally sing of lavender.

Maybe next year I'll be able to join in--if my passport renewal ever arrives.

In the meantime, I'm excited for the lavender that my friend and fellow artisan Dave Catherman, of Sleepy Bee Lavender Farm, will soon be harvesting and distilling here in the Northeast U.S. The yield is very small this year because of all the rain we had last spring, but Dave has promised some of his magic to Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes.

I wrote about Dave and his Connecticut lavender in the summer issue of Edible Nutmeg. Here's the link: http://www.ediblenutmeg.com/pages/articles/summer07/pdf/artisanGrowers.pdf

Passing through

2007-06-17T00:33:00.001-05:00

This passage has stayed with me all day--and now well into the dark night:

The past is never passed. And there is no such thing as moving on. But there is this telling. And there is such a thing as passing through.

These words are from The Untelling, a brilliant novel by Tayari Jones that I just finished reading. I loved this book; it's the best writing I have read in quite a long while--and if the truth be told, I'm really not much of a lover of fiction.

Tayari's novel is about a family's devastating loss and how it changes their entire physical and emotional landscapes. The story revolves around Aria, who was just 9-years-old when a car accident took the lives of her father and a baby sister.

Years later Aria, her sister and her mother confront their own guilt--by talking about it. And it's through this painful process of telling or untelling--as the case may be--what it is that has shuttered their hearts, which finally allows them to pass through it all.

That passage in The Untelling reminds me of a scent that I have used often in my aromatherapy practice that helps us "pass through" painful and life-altering moments.

Essential oil of Frankincense is the scent that is universally loved and revered for helping us cope with loss. I remember when I first learned this: It was years ago during a workshop I took on Martha's Vineyard with the legendary aromatherapist Jeanne Rose, and she was carrying a little handkerchief infused with the warm, woody and slightly lemon-y scent of Frankincense because she had recently lost a beloved pet.

I have known people to carry a bottle of Frankincense in their purse or pocket for months following a significant loss. Frankincense has long been used for spiritual healing. The incense you smell at church? It's likely Frankincense; it's still widely used in incense form in today's spiritual and religious ceremonies.

Frankincense is extracted from a resin of a tree that originates in the Middle East. Like most oils that come from resins, it's helpful for respiratory conditions. And for purposes of skincare, Frankincense is wonderful for wrinkles and mature skin.

But I have found Frankincense most useful for purposes of coping with loss. In his venerated book, The Complete Guide to Aromatherapy, Australian aromatherapist Salvatore Battaglia explains it like this: "Frankincense slows down breathing and produces feelings of calm. This tends to bring about an elevating and soothing effect on the mind. Ideally used for meditation, it has been discovered that burning frankincense produces a psycho-active substance, trahydrocannabinole, which expands consciousness. Its comforting and refreshing action is helpful for anxious and obsessional states linked to the past."

I have had much success with Frankincense on a therapeutic level as an aromatherapist, and in my work as a natural, artisan perfumer I often use Frankincense in floral/Oriental blends.

In trying to come up with a photo to illustrate this kind of "passing through" that Frankincense can help us achieve, I decided to use this pair of front doors.

My wish for each of you is to know that even if you can't move on, you can indeed pass through.

The Marchesa

2007-03-17T18:57:00.000-05:00

This gorgeous factice was a gift from dear friends. I've fallen in love with its deep burgundy color and gold stopper, so much so that it has earned a place of special honor on my fireplace mantle.

Although it's a little difficult to tell from the photo, this Samsara bottle is about a foot in height, and a foot across at the widest part of the bottle.

Pronounced fak-teece, the word simply means "faux," or "fake."

Factice bottles are advertising pieces used by perfume companies. They come in all sizes, but for collectors the larger the bottle, the better.

While the quality of the glass used for a factice piece is usually the same as its regular-size counterpart, the factice's contents are alcohol or some other kind of tinted liquid--not the real perfume. This bottle was designed by Paul Granai, and the fragrance, Samsara, was created by perfumer Jean Paul Guerlain.

Released in 1989, Samsara is still in production today. The name is Sanskrit and refers to the cycle of birth and rebirth.

The fragrance is heavy in white flowers and also in sandalwood, hence its designation as a "woody-floral" scent.

After doing some research into Samsara's ingredients, I created a natural, artisan perfume. It is not a "copy cat," and my creation doesn't smell anything at all like the Samsara that you would find at a department store perfume counter. I typically don't even like to think about a commercial scent when I'm creating an artisan perfume. But this gorgeous bottle was such an inspiration.

I'm calling this artisan scent, Marchesa, in honor of Alain's girlfriend. Alain was the antiques and collectibles dealer in Marseilles who sold my friends this bottle. He's a lovable, swarthy and very colorful character who trolls the back alleys of the mysterious French seaport in search of treasures. Actually, I had the pleasure of meeting Alain and joining him in a group lunch in a dingy little Marseilles cafe a few years ago.

Alain once casually mentioned to my friends that his girlfriend was a marchesa. If memory serves me correctly, I think Alain's girlfriend's name was Gabrielle, but I'm not entirely sure I have that part right. In any event, he claimed that she was a marchesa. I'm not really sure how you spell marchesa in French (I think I'm giving the title an Italian spin).

My friends and I thought it was a little incredulous that Gabrielle (or whatever her name was) would have a title of nobility, but hey, there are stranger things going on in the world. However, it just seemed so unlikely, given that Gabrielle is a female version of Alain and a little rough and tumble herself.

But I suppose that my scent Marchesa is somewhat like the woman whose boyfriend sold the factice bottle to my friends. Absolutes such as jasmine and boronia--on their own--can be a little too harsh or tart-like for some noses. But blend all of these essences together into their own unique creation and, viola, you have one very smooth Marchesa.

An Insider's Take on Artisan Perfumes

2007-03-10T19:07:00.000-05:00

The following is an article that I was invited to author for the February 2007 issue of Housatonic Home, a quarterly publication in Northwest Connecticut. Unfortunately, HH is not posted online so I'm unable to link to the actual article. But this is exactly as it appeared in the publication. Please note that the article is copy righted by Housatonic Publications and is not allowed to be reproduced without the express permission of the editor.

The Unique Allure of Artisan Perfumes
Written by Melanie McMillan Photographed by Laurie Gaboardi

Tourmaline, emerald, sapphire and onyx... jewel-toned colors are perched, like royalty, atop the desk in my workshop. But instead of enjoying a regal presentation in a small velvet box--such as one would see in a jeweler's display case--each is mysteriously cloaked in an amber glass bottle to protect it from sunlight while it awaits the perfumer's hand, which will blend it into an alchemical symphony with other liquid jewels that have been mined from plants.

The yelllow-colored and floral-scented ylang ylang, the cool-scented green vetiver, the fruit-like fragrance of blue chamomile and the black, tar-like oak moss with its earthy scent do not stand the test of time in the same way as an emerald ring or a sapphire necklace, but these colored, fragrant essences are every bit as precious, every bit as sensual and, to aficionados of natural, artisan perfumes, even more magical than their gemstone counterparts, precisely because of their fleeting nature.

Natural, artisan perfumery is an art form that is currently undergoing an exciting reawakening. Many women--and men, for that matter--are foregoing mass-market fragrances in favor of natural, artisan scents. These consumers are not leftover "Flower Children" from the 1960s. Instead, they are a growing group of sophisticated, modern-day individualists who are living in a world of cookie-cutter experiences, and they appreciate a fragrance that delivers a truly authentic experience.

Natural, artisan perfumes are not about fashion. And they are certainly not "trendy," because the plant essences from which they are created have been around for literally centuries. Instead, natural fragrance is about our humanness, and how we relate to the rest of the natural world.

Don a mass-marketed rose-scented perfume, and you are likely wearing a laboratory-created fragrance. But when you dab a hand-blended natural, artisan perfume or rose between your breasts, well, you are indeed wearing a real rose. And there is the mystery. Natural perfumes meld with your body chemistry; synthetic perfumes mask your own scent.

In addition, many people who are allergic to perfume--yet enjoy it--sometimes find that they can wear natural, artisan perfumes with no ill effects. Often, it is the synthetic chemicals that bother them, and not the plant essences themselves.

Out-of-the-ordinary, jewel-like colors are just one characteristic of a natural, artisan perfume. It is, of course, the scent of these fragrances, which calls out to us. The perfumes peak to our own existence. Many of the scents used to create these special perfumes come from water--such s the pink and white water lily plants, for example--and from the earth, which is where the roots of vetiver and ginger are found--just as we, too, come from a water-cushioned womb and one day return to the earth.

The volatile plant oils, which are more water-like than oily in consistency, are extracted in a variety of ways. Steam distillation, which is the manner most commonly used to produce essential oil of lavender, for example, yields essences that are in a pure form. These essential oils are used not only in perfumery, but also in aromatherapy--which is the practice of using natural aromas for therapeutic purposes.

However, some flowers, such as the fragrant tuberose and ethereal-like boronia from Tasmania, to name just two exotic floral oils, aren't so willing to surrender their fragrance. In these cases, steam distillation is futile and so the oils are extracted by using other means.

Enfleurage, a centuries-old method by which a flower's volatile perfume is lifted by using animal fat and then extracting the essence from the ensuing pomade with alcohol, is yet another means by which delicate flowers are encouraged to succumb to the perfumer's quest for their sweet souls. But, alas, the romantic and sensual method of enfleurage is rarely used today, having been replaced with more modern and sophisticated techniques of solvent extraction.

Fortunately, the landscape of natural plant essences is much more vast for the artisan perfumer than it is for the aromatherapist. The latter is typically not inclined to use an essence that has been extracted by means of solvents, for fear that even minute traces of them may linger in the plant's essence, rendering it useless for therapeutic purposes.

But natural, artisan perfumers, ahhh, they are not such purists. They play happily, not only among pure essential oils, but also among concretes, a waxy fragrant material given off during solvent extraction, and absolutes, which are a further refinement of a concrete and are floral essences in their most concentrated form.

But make no mistake about it. This is not all about play. There are responsibilities and ethical considerations the artisan perfumer must address. For one thing, there is the issue of over-harvesting, as has been the case with agarwood and rosewood oils. Sadly, these oils have become so rare that it's difficult to locate them in their true, unadulterated state.

Agarwood, a smoky and balsamic scent from the diminishing Laotian forests in Southeast Asia, has been so over-harvested in the wild, and its oil is so labor intensive to extract, that at $2,400 an ounce, it is more costly than eve gold, which, at the time of this writing, was a "mere" $646 an ounce.

This does not mean that rare essences should never be used to create perfume. On the contrary, they must be used for the beauty and enjoyment that they bring to those who wear them. However, oversight is needed, and artisan perfumers must watch the marketplace and, to the best of their ability and their suppliers' abilities, learn which producers--many of whom are located on the other side of the globe--show compassion and concern for the environment and their workforce. This will help to ensure that exotic, plant-based materials remain in the artisan perfumer's palette forever.

The other issue that surrounds natural perfumery is whether or not to use scents obtained from animals. Civet, musk and ambergris are the most popular animal oils in perfumery.

Musk and civet are extracted in an extraordinarily inhumane manner and from rare species (such as the musk deer), and, in fact, the oils are illegal to purchase in this and in most other countries. Ambergris, for those who really want to know, essential comes from the vomit of the endangered male sperm whale.

It has been my experience that there is no need to exploit our fellow animal beings. The plant world offers enough rich variety. For example, ambrette seed, which is extracted from a species of the hibiscus, is a wonderful alternative to animal-derived musk, and labdanum, which comes from a shrub that belongs to the rockrose family, is often used as a substitute for civet cat.

Currently, more than 80 different natural, plant-based essences fill the shelves of my workshop. That number fluctuates, either considerably more or a little less, depending on world market conditions that involve not only climate (perhaps a certain geographic region had a particularly rainy season, for example), but also politics. How easily natural plant materials can be exported from other countries and imported into the United States are certainly factors when it comes to their availability for natural perfumery.

But even with all of the expense and variables that an artisan perfumer has to take into consideration, the fact that the art is enjoying a renaissance should come as no surprise. Our sense of smell is most compelling. It is, after all, 10,000 times more powerful than our sense of taste.

More than a reasonable facsimile of fragrant plants, natural, artisan perfumes have the ability to capture our hearts and make our spirits soar in a mysterious kind of way, which can only occur when we step outside of the laboratory door and into the inexplicable mysteries of the natural world.

Melanie McMillan, a former style editor with The Litchfield County Times, is now the proprietress of Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes. She may be reached at 860-618-3261.

Home sweet perfumes

2007-03-04T14:33:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine, Sasha, wrote in an e-mail to me last week that "being an entrepreneur is a lot like a roller coaster ride." She is not kidding.

An interesting and wise woman, who in the past has helped women in the former Soviet Union launch small businesses after the fall of communism, Sasha is the owner of a new business herself.

But Sasha is also an established and very well-respected psychotherapist with offices in New York City and Washington, Conn., an occupation that comes in handy when she has to talk one of her entrepreneurial friends down from the ledge--or at the very least, give us a strong pep talk.

I think I needed both last week: talked down from the ledge and some cheerleading.

After opening my workshop at The Little Shoppe on the Corner in downtown Torrington just last November, Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes has moved--to an in-home studio.

An area of my home that was used as an architectural focal point to highlight a very old and interesting antique door--likely from a church--that was discovered by my father at an antiques shop in Ohio, has been pressed into service and is now serving as a functional perfume laboratory and client meeting space.

I've posted a few photos so you can see what it looks like. I apologize that the pictures are rather dark, but hopefully you can at least get some idea of the space. (And I apologize for the funky paragraph spacing throughout this post; there must be some glitch in the Blogger program today.)

Those of you who have been in my home before will recognize the alcove area. It used to be a closet that was opened up by the previous owner; however, way before that it was the original entrance to the factory floor of an 1800's woolen mill, the historic building in which I live.

It actually feels great to have the space working for me--instead of using it as an aesthetic prop.

But it has been somewhat stressful moving out of my space in downtown Torrington and into my home. And it all happened rather suddenly.

By the way, a great big thank you to my friend Bob, who single handedly moved me out of my space. He did it all in an hour's time, while I stood there with my head bobbing back and forth, looking like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. I am extremely grateful for his organizational prowess and muscle power.

The Little Shoppe on the Corner, which is owned by Cheryl Mendez, is set to close its doors the last day of March--which meant that Bailey McMillan Perfumes would have been out of a home. My perfume workshop was located in the back of that shop.

However, instead of waiting until March 31, as soon as I learned that Cheryl had definitively decided to close I moved out of her store immediately. There was really no point in staying.

Cheryl is relocating her gift shop to the Renaissance Gallery on Route 202 in Litchfield. For those familiar with Litchfield, it's up the road from the Toll Gate Hill Inn, sandwiched between a health food store and a greenhouse. I believe that she is going to give her store a brand new name when she re-opens April 1.

With Cheryl having a big moving sale, coupled with all of the packing going on--and not to mention the depressive nature associated with the closing of yet another store that couldn't quite make it in downtown Torrington, I really felt that all of this would be disruptive to Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes and its clients, which is why I decided to pull up stakes last week.

While I was invited to re-locate to Renaissance Gallery with Cheryl, I hesitated for a couple of reasons. There is a hair salon in that building, and I was very concerned about chemical odors competing with my perfumes. Also, the space is largely occupied (and owned) by Susan Wakeen and her sculptured dolls. While the dolls are wonderfully gorgeous and magnificent works of art, dolls and sophisticated artisan perfumes probably aren't quite the right complement to each other.

When I couldn't get the deal to work on a couple of different levels, well, I knew then that my initial gut reaction to not relocate to Renaissance was the right decision--so I'm sending Cheryl and her "Little Shoppe" off to Litchfield with my sincere best wishes for great success.

Cheryl decided to leave Torrington because of the lack of foot traffic in its downtown area. Foot traffic is critical to the success of a small gift shop that doesn't particularly specialize in any one thing, but offers a little something for everyone. I certainly understand her predicament.

But because I work primarily by appointment and had very limited retail hours, foot traffic was less of an issue for me. I loved my space at Little Shoppe. And although Cheryl's Torrington landlord thought that we might work something out, the space is just way too big for Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes to occupy it alone.

As a result of all of this, for now I will continue to see clients by appointment only--out of my private home lab and studio, which is really quite comfortably elegant.

In addition, within the next month development of my website will step up, and it will expand from a single page to an entire site. I'll begin doing online sales.

There are also other interesting developments in the works that I can't share with you quite yet, but I'll keep you posted.

So while it was extremely disappointing to lose my workshop space after only "living" in it for five months, I believe that the situation is evolving into a positive one.

In fact, the moment I moved everything into my home studio, I knew that I had made a good decision. It just felt right.

The only thing that may be a little awkward is when I have to ask clients to remove their shoes (because of the white carpet), but hopefully everyone will understand.

So it's onward and upward, as they say.

Have a good week, everyone.

A scents of the visual

2007-02-21T16:05:00.000-05:00

This photo of me was recently taken in my workshop and studio by Laurie Gaboardi, an award-winning photographer who leads the photo department at The Litchfield County Times/Housatonic Publications.

A great big thank you to Laurie for doing a wonderful job. Believe me, capturing this artisan perfumer on camera is a huge accomplishment. Those who know me well will attest to my camera shyness. So I truly appreciate Laurie's professionalism and marvel at her extraordinary talent.

The photo was shot to accompany a piece I wrote for the Valentine's issue of Housatonic Home about artisan perfumes. It was entitled, "An Insider's View of Artisan Perfumes," and it was the publication's featured story--which appeared right smack in the center of the magazine.

My friends and I joke that I have now, at age 46, finally become a centerfold girl!

But all kidding aside, I am so grateful to Doug Clement, who is executive editor of The Litchfield County Times and a host of other newspapers, magazines and special supplements that fall under The Litchfield County Times and Houstonic Publications umbrellas, for inviting me to author the educational piece on artisan scents. (Doug is my former boss from the days when I worked as Style Editor for the County Times.)

When I get a spare moment, I will post the article here. I don't think the paper hosts issues of Housatonic Home online, so I can't immediately link you to anything.

Thank you, again, Laurie and Doug, for helping to spread the word about the world of artisan perfumes and their exciting renaissance in this 21st century.

In case you are wondering, in the photo I am smelling--or shall we say "experiencing"--Aurel. It's one of my favorite creations, and its inspiration came from a summer's night I once enjoyed near the town of Aurel, which is located in the High Provence region of France. The perfume features ylang ylang and jasmine absolutes--and a few other magical, natural ingredients. It is my best-selling scent, so far.

In my mind's eye, I can still picture that inspirational evening... .

Ahhhhhh revoir, mes amis.:)

Getting in touch with your inner tail

2007-01-10T20:11:00.000-05:00

Note: A special thanks to 17-year-old Cecily-the-Cat for allowing me to use her magnificent tail to illustrate this post.

The past couple of weeks have found me doing what I love, which is creating new perfumes. Several men purchased gift certificates for personal perfumes for Christmas for wives, girlfriends--and in some cases, daughters and daughters-in-law--and now the women are calling, post-holiday, to book their appointments for the initial consultation.

To be sure, this is a busy time at Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes.

It takes two months to create a custom fragrance, from start to finish, so everyone who received this most personal of presents is eager to get the process moving forward.

Most of my clients are divided into two distinct groups: those who enjoy airy, ethereal types of perfumes--the light scents, such as citrus and some florals--and those who prefer the dark scents, the more mysterious, heavy fragrances.

There is no right or wrong category. As an artisan perfumer, I enjoy creating both light and dark scents. But when it comes to personal preference in terms of wearing a fragrance, I have moved from light to dark.

Dark scents are more mysterious and sexy, and they have much more depth--but they are also sometimes difficult for people to love. Many of my younger clients in their 20s and early 30s just don't "get" dark scents at all. I suppose they are more appropriate for women "of a certain age."

The darker, richer scents such as ambers and resins, as well as some of the heavier, intoxicating florals like tuberose and jasmine, have an almost animalic quality about them.

In fact, I once read an article in British Vogue that described dark scents, with their sophisticated and sensual appeal, as the only proper scents for mothers. Wearing dark scents, according to that article, is like letting a tail hang out from under your skirt and dragging it behind you on the ground.

Because I work with only natural scents extracted from nature--not created in a laboratory--I believe that most of my perfumes, even the so-called "lighter" ones, have an earthy and sensual quality that you won't find in the clean and happy department store perfumes, which are composed primarily of synthetics.

I'm not living in the 18th century. I bathe every day. So I'm not looking for my perfume to conceal some malodorous aspect of my person. I don't need my fragrance to smell clean and sweet. I am clean (I'm not so sure about sweet, but we can't be all things, right?).

No, when I wear a perfume, I want it to be statement making. I want it to be sensual.

While I love all perfumes, at the end of the day I must confess: I rather enjoy letting my tail hang out from beneath my favorite black velvet dress.

Perfume (the movie) stinks

2007-01-10T16:33:00.000-05:00

Now that Christmas is over and my essential oils of frankincense and myrrh are back in their proper spots on the shelf in my workshop (in the "F" and "M" aisles, respectively), it's back to blogging on a more regular basis. Once again I must apologize for an extended absence from Notes from The Hills. Everyone's schedule is so hectic in November and December, so hopefully you'll forgive me. Maybe you didn't even miss my posts... .

As usual, the holidays were fraught with fun--and with a few challenges thrown in here and there. For example, I discovered an unpleasant scent at Washington National and Port Columbus. But Christmas travel is over and done with for another year, so I'll let bygones be bygones and send warm wishes to everyone in airport security. However, let's just say that the odor of jet fuel, which used to make me think of adventure and excitement, now sparks some unhappy memories.

Another piece of not so great news that I have to report is that Perfume stinks. The movie version of Perfume, that is. I saw it last Sunday night, after waiting with much anticipation for several months. It finally opened December 5 in limited release in the U.S., and for those of you who live in Litchfield County--depending on where you're located--the closest theaters where the movie is playing are in Danbury and Plainville.

But if I were you, I'd wait for the DVD and in the meantime get my hands on the book.

When Patrick Suskind authored Perfume: The Story of a Murderer some 20 years ago, the book received rave reviews. It still does, in fact. So it's unfortunate that the movie version doesn't do Mr. Suskind's work justice.

Since I'm not a movie reviewer, I won't bore you by pretending to be one. This reviewer does a pretty good job of telling it like it is.

In all fairness, I can't imagine that it would be easy to make a movie about scent. In fact, many Hollywood types insisted all along that it couldn't be done--which is why it's taken so long to get the book to the big screen. Apparently, they were right.

As I was walking out of the theater, I heard one fellow theater-goer loudly proclaim: "That was ridiculous." Indeed.

So skip the movie. Instead, go buy the book, or better yet borrow it from your local library. It's a dark story, brilliantly written and richly steeped in scent. In fact, in order to erase the movie from my memory, I'm re-reading the book for the third time now.

If only I could do something about the jet fuel.

Scents of the season

2006-12-07T20:01:00.000-05:00

Almost everyone, it seems, loves the scent of pine, and this year I've gone a little overboard with it. A nine-foot tree sits in my living room, and my front doors are decorated with pine wreaths. There is also a brick alcove in my condo--where an opening to the factory floor used to be in the late 1800s when the building was a woolen mill--that has become the perfect spot for an old, heavy door that I display as a piece of art. That old door is also decorated with a pine wreath.

Essential oil of pine is widely used in aromatherapy as an inhalation treatment to combat mental fatigue, and to help in instances where one has bronchitis, the flu or laryngitis. It also has tremendous antiseptic and antiviral properties, which leads me to use it for my home cleaning chores. And let's face it: the natural scent of pine smells oh so much more lovely than the commercial cleaning preparations that are laced with who-knows-what kinds of chemicals.

However, for purposes of natural perfumery, I much prefer fir. Like pine, fir benefits the respiratory system and shares many of pine's other attributes. But I feel that fir's fragrance, generally-speaking, is softer and more refined--whereas pine's often seems rather brusque. So to me, fir is more suitable for use in perfumery. Typically, I save pine for aromatherapeutic purposes.

Fir is a top note, meaning that if it's contained in a blend its scent is among the first you'll smell--and as a top note it will be fleeting as it leads you deeper into the perfume's heart and soul. I always think of top notes as the guides that grab ahold of my hand and give me confidence to venture deeper into the netherworld of a fragrance.

Often when I'm using fir in a perfume, I'll blend it with pine to create a strong, clean impression that has considerable depth.

But, alas, I have been spoiled.

A few years ago while in the South of France, I was honored with a silver fir essential oil that had been wildcrafted by a woman in her 90s. The story was that she would take her tiny, portable distillation unit deep into the Provence forest and distill the fir needles on site. This woman's essential oil was the most magnificent fir that I've ever experienced in my life, and try as I might I have not been able to get my hands on anything quite like it since. I brought two bottles back home with me, but of course they didn't last very long.

My only consolation is that the fir's ethereal-like fragrance lives on in my memory.

A couple of years ago I bought some silver fir from one of my few trusted suppliers who insisted that it came from the same 90-year-old woman who distilled the fir that I fell in love with earlier. But this fir didn't smell anything like the fir I remembered. However, France had a particularly rainy autumn and spring that year, which could have easily accounted for an inferior fir unworthy of waxing on about.

After all, essential oils used in natural perfumery are like wines. The conditions in which the plants are grown to create the oils have a bearing on the final product. Rain or a lack of it, soil conditions, temperature--these are things that the French term terroir. They all play a part in an essential oil's quality, just as the terroir, or the conditions in which the grapes are grown, is largely responsible for a wine's quality.

I hope that the scents you are experiencing this season are worthy of wonderful memories. Enjoy your pine or your fir, whichever "version" you've bedecked your home with. Remember: The fragrance is uplifting and clears away mental fatigue.

To me, smells such as pine and fir are "happy scents."

Happy holidays.

The scent of shopping

2006-11-27T15:45:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile since I've been able to post anything, and for that I apologize to all of you who have been checking back regularly to see what's new. My parents were here for six days at Thanksgiving, and before that I had some client and personal writing projects that had to be completed before the holiday. It appears that it will be a bit of a challenge for me to do two new blog posts every week during the holidays. My intentions are good, but I don't know how practical they are. I will do what I can... .

Although I do work by appointment only, now that the holiday shopping season is here my plan is to be in my artisan's workshop every Saturday and Sunday from noon until 4 p.m. during December to talk with those of you who stop by. If there's time, I will also do some complimentary personality profiles by fragrance preference. It's a fun thing to do for those who visit, and it's very interesting and accurate. It involves completing a questionnaire and smelling some scents. It's a lot of fun, so do stop by the workshop if you can.

I will be offering gift certificates for my custom perfumes at 50 percent off ($250) through the month of December. A custom fragrance, which normally retails for $500, is the the ultimate gift. You can't go wrong with it.

In addition, I also have a few ready-made perfumes which include four bottles of Truly Roses, the first fragrance of The Litchfield Collection. The perfume features oil from four different types of roses and a few drops of antique patchouli from France.

There are only the four bottles left of the 2006 vintage of Truly Roses, and I am offering them for the holidays for $88 each for one-half ounce. They normally retail for $125.

There is also a small assortment of solid perfumes available.

My favorite solid scent is a gorgeous grapefruit and ylang-ylang blend. The soft, ethereal-like floral/citrus fragrance is blended into an jojoba oil and beeswax base, and I've poured it into an antique, gold-colored one-ounce compact that is worthy of the perfume it holds. The price is $88.00.

Other solid scents include a grapefruit and lavender perfume (also in an antique compact) for $45 for a quarter ounce, as well as an exotic, single scent, auracaria, from Chile.

The auracaria is also blended into an jojoba and beeswax base, and it's poured into a charming antique pendant/necklace. Auracaria is a soft spicy, rose scent that takes a special woman to wear it. It's very exotic and unusual. This would be a scent for someone who likes to be different and is not afraid of a little drama. The auracaria perfume pendant sells for $65.

There are a couple of other solid perfumes, as well, including a nutmeg scent, and a spicy cinnamon and tangerine solid. All are quarter ounce size and in the $45 to $65 range.

If you have not yet seen a menu of my services, please e-mail me at melaniemcmillan@msn.com and I'll gladly send you a copy. The latest version features my special holiday prices.

I'm curious: Did any of you happen to see the ad for Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes that appeared in the LCT magazine which came out last Friday?

Happy shopping everyone!

A fragrant farewell

2006-11-12T14:01:00.000-05:00

Judy Hornby was a wonderful friend and mentor of mine who passed away earlier this month as a result of breast cancer. The British-born fashion designer turned antiques dealer is missed by many who knew and loved her.

People who gravitate toward natural, citrus scents such as orange, grapefruit or bergamot, for example, tend to be very warm, caring, and courageous individuals.

In fact, there is extensive research that comes out of the U.K., which supports the theory that our individual personality traits lead us toward specific scents. Another example is floral scents. Those who are extroverted and who strive for success are likely to favor rose and jasmine.

However, caution must be used when typing personality by scent preference. After all, there are so very many layers to our personality. It would be difficult, not to mention unfair, to place a person in a single category and definitively proclaim, "That's it. That's who you are." It's not as simple as that.

Still, throughout my years as an aromatherapist, and more recently in my work as an artisan perfumer, I have noticed that there does seem to be something to this idea of typing personality by scent preference. The theory behind it is that we are drawn to those natural smells which do us the most good by helping us achieve and maintain physical, emotional and spiritual balance.

A dear friend who passed away last week was a citrus personality. She appreciated the fresh and uplifting qualities of citrus scents. Before she fell ill, again, I had been working on a natural, artisan perfume for her that was a combination of citrus and floral, with an emphasis on citrus.

Her signature perfume, which she had worn for several years, was created in 1993 by the Parisian fashion designer, Jean Paul Gaultier. It is called Classique. You may have seen it at the perfume counters of the better department stores in its eye-catching, corset-shaped bottle.

Classique's top notes are rose, star aniseed, orange, mandarin and pear liquor. The scent's heart is blended with iris, orchid, plum, ginger, orange blossom, and ylang-ylang. Its base is composed of amber, orris root and vanilla.

Childhood memories are said to be the inspiration behind this fragrance. I have read that Jean Paul Gaultier loved the scent of his grandmother's powder puff and his mother's nail lacquer-- and so he used those two aromas as a starting point for creating Classique.

The fragrance is definitely not a natural perfume; synthetic ingredients abound. But Classique is, nonetheless, a classic. At first whiff, a creamy citrus scent envelops the senses, but that experience very quickly melts into a sophisticated and sexy citrus-floral aroma, which then transitions into a mysterious amber-like dry down with a hint of floral. The perfume is "suggestive," but not overly-so. Still, it's not to be worn by the faint of heart. It most certainly makes a statement.

Classique is truly a beautiful, floral-oriental fragrance punctuated with citrus notes--and it was a perfume well-suited for my beautiful friend.

Judy embodied all of the amazingly wonderful attributes of people who typically like citrus scents. (When you get to the Web site, please click on view the video.)

In addition to being a warm, caring and courageous woman, she was bright, joyful, artistic, passionate, benevolent, and much-loved.

Not only did she call The Litchfield Hills her home, but Judy was at home and with friends wherever in the world her travels happened to take her. I am but one among many who will miss her terribly.

Colors and scents

2006-11-04T20:22:00.000-05:00

While Cheryl and I were putting some finishing touches on my perfume workshop in preparation for yesterday's soft launch of Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes (such as hanging this sign outside), all of a sudden I heard her shout, "There's a rainbow! How can there be a rainbow when there's no rain?"

Indeed. How could there be?

Although Friday was cold, the day was bright and sunny--and cloudless.

As I walked from the back of the shoppe--which is where my workshop area is located--up to the front where Cheryl was working, I fully expected to view some weird development in the weather through the front windows.

Instead, a beautiful rainbow had materialized inside. It was a brilliantly colored, perfectly shaped arc of deep red, orange and pink sitting in the middle of the shoppe's floor atop the green carpeting.

After we discovered which window was acting as the prism for the sun to shine through it "just right," I ran to find my digital camera--but by then it was too late.

Cheryl said that she's never seen a rainbow inside her shoppe in the four years that she's been the proprietress. We were both thrilled by its brief appearance, and not to sound too cosmic, but I believe that it was an auspicious sign. Rainbows are associated with good luck, and, of course, a rainbow was a symbol of God's mercy after the flood.

I'll take a rainbow anywhere I can get it: Even on top of a carpet that has seen better days.

Fortunately, I can find a rainbow every day in my work with natural perfumes. One of the joys of working with nature's scents is that they are naturally colored. Not all of them have this quality, but many actually look like gem stones when diluted in perfumer's alcohol.

Right now I'm working on a men's scent that contains hay absolute sourced from France. As I placed the muddy, greenish-brown colored essence one drop at a time into a beaker of perfumer's alcohol, it magically transformed into a beautiful liquid peridot.

The other fragrance that is "marrying" on top of my desk at the moment is cocoa mimosa. Its rich, golden-orange color reminds me of a topaz.

I have been asked if natural perfumes that have color will stain a person's skin, and the answer is no, not if the plant essences are properly diluted in perfumer's alcohol.

Peppermint, mice and everything's nice

2006-10-29T20:06:00.000-05:00

Last weekend I took a drive up to Kent, Connecticut, one of my favorite spots in Litchfield County. I was on a mission to pick up a doormat that Amanda at Terston was holding for me. Because I lived in South Kent for two years when I first moved to Litchfield County, I know the retail and natural landscapes there very well.

Kent is one of those magical places where you feel like you're on vacation--even as you're driving off to work in the morning. It's the antithesis of Litchfield County's Torrington, an old, industrial city that has seen better days, where I eventually ended up buying a home.

Sometimes I really miss the morning routine I had while living in Kent. First, I would grab a bagel at Strobel, and then I would stop at Belgique for a fabulous cup of coffee (and maybe, if I was feeling particularly decadent or diva-like, a chocolate croissant for later in the day). As I would wend my way down Route 7 toward my job in New Milford, I would admire the Housatonic River on my right and feel truly blessed to live in a place where natural beauty is in such abundance.

However, there's one thing I don't miss about Kent. In fact, I do believe it was the mice that eventually drove me out of town.

Although I lived in a tiny (and I do mean tiny) story book cottage, the fairy tale came to a screeching halt as soon as autumn started to pull in.

And last weekend, on my drive up to Kent on a beautiful, late October Saturday morning, I could just picture the line forming at the hardware store. It's mouse season, and that means the place is doing a brisk business in all kinds of anti-mouse devices. I can remember very well having to stand in a fairly long line at the True Value the two autumn seasons that I lived in Kent.

One morning, as a man and I waited our turn to reach the cash register, we chatted about our respective experiences with mice. With his arms heaped full of mousetraps, the man said that he was exhausted because a mouse was in the wall that his bed was up against, and he had listened to the creature scratch by his head the entire night.

Another Kent mouse story that makes me chuckle, although I'm sure it wasn't very amusing to the person involved, was one that a neighbor shared. Like me, he is not a huge fan of mice. When some construction and renovation took place on his property, the mice started scattering into areas where they ought not to have been. Thinking that he didn't want to harm them, my neighbor set one of those humane traps--only to awaken the next morning to find a horror story of dozens of mice in the trap, alive and just waiting for someone to set them free.

My exterminator dropped the news that my cottage was a "way station for wildlife." Even his assistant was afraid to venture up in to my attic. Since the place was sitting 500 feet from a pond and on the border of a wetlands area, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. It's just that there were so many. "But, hey," the exterminator said, "everyone in Kent has mice." However, it was small comfort to know that I wasn't alone.

The final straw was when my elderly cat started rooting the mice out from their hiding spots in the middle of the night and bringing them to me, alive and kicking.

So between the mice and the fact that it was a buyer's market, it was definitely time to move. Not that Torrington doesn't have its share of wildlife. Believe me, I'm not in denial. But it's of the human kind, if you know what I mean. My home security system in Torrington seems to work better than any mousetrap did in Kent. Fortunately, the only mice I'm seeing in my home these days are the cat toy kind in the photo above.

The mouse population in my Kent cottage was too large for this to be effective, but mice really do not like the smell of peppermint. In fact, they detest it. Although I'm not making any promises, if you put several drops of pure essential oil of peppermint on cotton balls and strategically place them near areas where mice are likely to enter your home, it's likely that the mice will literally turn up their noses and move on to another, peppermint-less house. Just make sure that you don't have any small children or pets who could get ahold of the essential oil soaked cotton.

This fall, here's hoping that your house is without a mouse--and smelling minty fresh.

Fragrant philosophy

2006-10-29T11:21:00.000-05:00

After yesterday's substantial rainfall, this morning I opened my front door to a healthy wind kicking the clean smell of cold--like a mini mistral--through my courtyard area. It has become quite an effort trying to keep the leaves at bay, so I simply gave up. You can see from the photo that the wind literally blows them right up to my front door.

But I don't mind.

To me, the scents of autumn--including decaying leaves--signify life. In fact, I feel very much alive when I'm outdoors on a day like this, inhaling the wind, the leaves, the cold and even the moist dirt of the ground.

However, it is rather ironic that one would associate these autumn smells with life, when the reality is that this is the season during which so many things must die--not only the leaves, but flowers and other vegetation, and even some of the animals that are not strong enough to survive the coming winter.

There must be a place in our fragile hearts, a place where rational thought is suspended, which knows that life goes on in spite of a physical death. This, I believe, is what allows me to feel joy--even through the fragrance of a leaf that has long fallen from the tree.

Creating scents in Litchfield County

2006-10-28T14:34:00.000-05:00

Writing the initial post for a brand new blog is a lot like trying to tell someone your life story, but instead of starting your tale at birth you begin it in midlife. There is so much that led up to today, yet there is not enough time or space for the entire story. So perhaps a suitable starting point is last Thursday--the day that I received a very nice form letter from the Commissioner of the Department of Revenue Services, thanking me for properly registering my new business, Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes, with the State of Connecticut.

The letter would have been even more pleasant to read had it been on stationery scented with essential oil of lavender or rose absolute. But that would have been our tax dollars at work in a manner that would have been deemed frivolous.

The "Bailey" part of my business name is my way of honoring my late grandmother, Ann Bailey, who was a true fragrance aficionado--and a bit of an endearing character, to boot. She absolutely loved her expensive perfumes, but she was fickle. She would often tire of a scent and decide to leave the bottle behind for the hotel housekeeping staff when she traveled. It might be interesting, sometime, to follow my grandmother's scented trail.

When I left my job as associate/style editor for The Litchfield County Times last June, I knew that as a woman in midlife it was now or never as far as taking my interest in natural fragrance to the next level. For the past 15 years, working with pure essential oils has been a passion of mine, first on a therapeutic level as an aromatherapist, and then on a more artistic level as a natural perfumer.

Up until now, my work with plant essences has been a cross between an avocation and a serious hobby. I was a dabbler. But as that little piece of paper I received from the Department of Revenue Services confirms, it has now become a business.

In early November, I will begin seeing aromatherapy clients as well as those who want their own custom perfume developed, out of a shop in downtown Torrington, Connecticut called "The Little Shoppe On The Corner," where the back part is being magically transformed in to a charming artisan's workshop.

Cheryl Mendez, owner of The Little Shoppe On The Corner, has been full of enthusiasm for this project, and I am so grateful to her for inviting me to visit on a weekly basis. Although I will work by appointment only on Fridays and Saturdays (this perfumer works as a corporate writer Monday through Thursday), during the upcoming holidays I plan to be on site more often and available to the public sans appointment.

And while creating custom scents is my forte, at Cheryl's suggestion I am blending a few artisan perfumes--both solids in antique compacts as well as alcohol-based perfumes (in antique bottles)--for her to sell in her shop during the holidays.

The half-0unce perfume bottle in the photograph is one that I use for my packaging. It is an antique from the now-defunct house of Evyan, a New York perfumery that is responsible for creating the popular White Shoulders fragrance. The president of Evyan lived in Westport, Connecticut and actually grew some of the flowers used in Evyan's fragrances in his garden. I was fortunate to stumble upon a large quantity of never-used bottles that were leftover after the fragrance house closed its doors.

But today I created two solid scents and put them in antique compacts. The first was a lavender and grapefruit blend.

Here's an interesting tidbit: When men detect the smell of grapefruit on a woman, they perceive her age as being, on average, 10 years younger than her actual years. Hmm. Maybe I should not sell that perfume, but instead keep it for myself.

The other solid scent was a blend of cinnamon, coriander and bergamot. Essential oil of cinnamon is especially difficult for a perfumer to work with because of its association with food. It's also awfully overpowering. But blending just a tiny amount of it with coriander and bergamot--both top notes that are light and uplifting--resulted in my creating a sophisticated fragrance this afternoon that's subtly spicy in both the literal and figurative senses. It will be a woman who is a tad bit saucy and secure in her sexuality who will wear this perfume. I can picture one of my former colleagues at the newspaper, one of the editors, wearing this scent.

Well, it's back to the "cauldron" for me. That's how my friend and next-door neighbor refers to my perfume-blending pursuits.

My plan is to post to this blog a couple of times a week--more frequently if I have the time. In addition to introducing you to Bailey McMillan Artisan Perfumes, I'll talk about all kinds of things related to aromatherapy and natural perfumery, and I will also examine beautiful Litchfield County Connecticut through the lens of natural scent. Please check back, and do leave your comments. Thank you so much for stopping by today.