A fragrance is created. Its creator already provides it with words and images. An artist gives it a cover. She sends me a watercolor, and so I can now translate the image and fragrance into words again. Silent mail.
Another trip with the olfactory travel agent N.O.A.M. - this time at the invitation of BeJot, which adds one or two more sensory levels to the experience. Thank you very much!
"Le Vent des Îles" - the name might make you think of the South Seas or, once again, the Antilles. The latter also seems to fit here, as the inspiration for the fragrance was apparently a hike on a Caribbean island. This means that "Le Vent des Îles" actually follows on thematically from "Bois Verna" from the same house, and comparisons that characterize it as its deeper, darker version can certainly not be entirely dismissed. However, it is more strongly dominated by a tart citric note, especially in the opening, and is also much greener and ultimately denser overall: lush tropical vegetation, lichen and moss, herbs and ferns, almost bitter hesperides, spicy woodiness, vetiver, patchouli, oud. A complex mixture, once again. You already know this, you almost expect it from the house. Despite small floral and oceanic sprinkles, the emphasis here is clearly on herbal-green-rooty-woody-spicy. The citrus is not fruity, but is reminiscent of citrus foliage and, in combination with the earthy-spicy notes, once again evokes nostalgic associations for me: my earliest childhood, a dusty African garden in the Harmattan, playing hide-and-seek in dense lemon bushes. When it comes to conjuring up olfactory memories, N.O.A.M. is - at least for me - always highly productive.
Soon, more herbaceous notes are added. Lavender and, above all, sage are noticeable here, but there are certainly other ingredients involved in this development that I can't quite isolate. The perfumer specifically mentions "Fleur d'Atoumo" and "3 Tasses", two Caribbean medicinal herbal essences from a small distillery in Guadeloupe, which apparently contribute ginger and aniseed notes. Medicine, that is. The wind of the Antilles soothes every ailment.
One of the two vetiver essences used also comes from Guadeloupe and is therefore a specialty, according to the manufacturer, probably the first time it has ever been used in a fragrance. N.O.A.M. describes its fragrance as dark, woody and slightly smoky and, as a self-confessed vetiver lover, I immediately want to smell it in its pure form. Of course, you would have to take a real journey, go out into the real world and visit "Sarah's Distillery". N.O.A.M. works with small, artisanal producers of raw fragrance materials or produces them itself. Even the alcohol comes from a small local distillery and is produced especially for the house. There are only small hints, like crumbs, that provide information about the approach, but it seems very authentic. The fragrances are created in close collaboration and personal exchange between the perfumer and the raw material producers.
In this case, there is also the flacon designer. Seven of the twenty bottles in total were designed as a special edition by artist Barbara Josfeld - each a unique piece made from such disparate materials as concrete, mulberry bast and fern. A combination that really works: I have rarely seen such organic concrete. The artist describes the creative process in a report as a close exchange with the perfumer. Photos of nature helped to translate the fragrance into bottle art and it is amazing that the design was apparently created before the artist was able to get to know the fragrance. Amazing, because the bottle and fragrance form a perfect unit, as if they had been created from a single cast. This is how silent mail can work.
However, it is not only a series of bottles that are the product of artistic exchange across sensory boundaries, but also a series of watercolors on fragrances. I receive two of them as the result of an exchange under the spell of N.O.A.M. Now it's my turn to make my contribution to the game, to become part of the Silent Mail. And this is where the stylistic means of review prose seem unsatisfactory, reaching their limits. The process calls for a different diction.
Perhaps like this:
Hesperidic fractals in the firmament of the forest, meteor showers, like the oversized tropical flowers of a firework display. Iridescent clouds carry earthly things, prismatically spelling out the spectrum from gray-green to moss and pale yellow to scattered sprinkles of blue and violet. Fern wind playfully picks apart shimmering lavender twigs, scattering them across the sky with a light hand, as if dabbed on. Needles of hemlock are reflected in the sagebrush, melting into the salty breath of the spray. Woody darkness clusters on the periphery, bitter-spicy medicine. The center remains light, almost crystalline. The cards are reshuffled; the parts come together to form a whole.
As part of the limited "Essences" series, "Le Vent des Îles" cannot be reproduced due to the uniqueness of individual raw materials. The winds of the islands will soon have blown this fragrance away. It must be consciously enjoyed, its evaporation celebrated, as long as it exists.