Frankcrummit
Reviews
Frankcrummit
Tango Argentino!
Previous reviews and the perfumer's hype would have you believe that this fragrance is an evocation of the wide open spaces of Patagonia: a whale, washed up on the beach, the rolling grasslands, etc. etc.
Don't believe a word of it. This is a plunge into an underground milongas (or tango bar) in a barrio deep on the southern edge of Buenos Aires. There is a smooth hardwood floor, polished with use. Hair oil and human sweat have soaked into the very walls. As you enter, the sultry evening air, laden with jacaranda, is replaced by a well-matured fug of ancient tobacco, coffee and human musk.
It's perfume, but not as we know it. Leave behind your expectations of humpback whales and gauchos riding the pampas. This is a celebration of urban Argentina and the enclosed spaces where a passionate people gather to dance.
Don't believe a word of it. This is a plunge into an underground milongas (or tango bar) in a barrio deep on the southern edge of Buenos Aires. There is a smooth hardwood floor, polished with use. Hair oil and human sweat have soaked into the very walls. As you enter, the sultry evening air, laden with jacaranda, is replaced by a well-matured fug of ancient tobacco, coffee and human musk.
It's perfume, but not as we know it. Leave behind your expectations of humpback whales and gauchos riding the pampas. This is a celebration of urban Argentina and the enclosed spaces where a passionate people gather to dance.
A Mystical Journey
Here is a good example of perfume's ability to cross cultures and reinforce the point that what unites us is often stronger than what divides. Prin Lomros introduces Ma Nishtana as a meditation on religious ritual: its title is drawn from the Jewish Passover ritual . But he also points out that many of the notes in this fragrance are part of the lived experience of other Middle Eastern cultures. Incense and precious spices are unifying element in different religious (and gastronomic) traditions.
Ma Nishtana offers an olfactory expression of the search for the numinous which all religious traditions have in common, in three distinct phases. First there is the hubbub of the public space: the spice market, where a succession of piquant notes - cardamon , clove, black pepper, caraway and cumin, - clamour for attention like the tightly-packed contents of an Arabian souk. Eventually they begin to mingle with perfumed smoke: not the solemn liturgical incense of a Gothic cathedral, but the more intriguing Levantine bakhoor with its distinctive fruity, green and slightly spicy aroma. Finally, in the dry down, the fragrance moves into a more contemplative phase, like settling into to an old leather chair, smoked with decades of rosy incense. The location could be synagogue, mosque or chapel, but the instinct to find a place of inner calm and an opening to the divine is the same.
Never has the name perfume - from the Latin 'per fumum' meaning 'by means of smoke', - been better applied. Ma Nishtana takes you on a mystical journey, beginning with the naive religious question (traditionally posed by the youngest participant at the start of seder ritual), 'Why is this night different' ? It then evolves into a subtle and multi-layered exposition of the search for religious and aesthetic meaning that leaves the answers hanging elusively out of reach, like the smoke from the incense stick, denser than air, that gets diffused into the room before fading into nothingness.
Ma Nishtana offers an olfactory expression of the search for the numinous which all religious traditions have in common, in three distinct phases. First there is the hubbub of the public space: the spice market, where a succession of piquant notes - cardamon , clove, black pepper, caraway and cumin, - clamour for attention like the tightly-packed contents of an Arabian souk. Eventually they begin to mingle with perfumed smoke: not the solemn liturgical incense of a Gothic cathedral, but the more intriguing Levantine bakhoor with its distinctive fruity, green and slightly spicy aroma. Finally, in the dry down, the fragrance moves into a more contemplative phase, like settling into to an old leather chair, smoked with decades of rosy incense. The location could be synagogue, mosque or chapel, but the instinct to find a place of inner calm and an opening to the divine is the same.
Never has the name perfume - from the Latin 'per fumum' meaning 'by means of smoke', - been better applied. Ma Nishtana takes you on a mystical journey, beginning with the naive religious question (traditionally posed by the youngest participant at the start of seder ritual), 'Why is this night different' ? It then evolves into a subtle and multi-layered exposition of the search for religious and aesthetic meaning that leaves the answers hanging elusively out of reach, like the smoke from the incense stick, denser than air, that gets diffused into the room before fading into nothingness.
The Clearing of the Air
For my first Parfumo review, a little background may be helpful.
I am a Fragrantica refugee, sickened by its toxic politics and seeking a place where I can breathe in cleaner air, before turning my attention back to the world of perfume. I am also a self-confessed incense-worshipper, seeing that note as worthy of attention in itself, rather than as a mere accompaniment to a religious ceremony.
One of my first reactions to Behind the Rain, was to experience that clearing of the air I needed. The fragrance has an immediate impact: a strong, refreshing aroma, reminiscent of camphor and mint. A second reaction was to hastily rearrange the fragrance's categorisation: instead of the incense-led perfume I had anticipated, I am savouring something greener and herbaceous.
Paul Schütze conjures an Aegean island after the rain. That's the clearing of the air again: it's clean and fresh, but also laden with scents of uprooted wood and grass. I don't get fennel, but pine mostly and not the pine of a soapy foam bath, but it's as if my nose is pressed into freshly-split wood, where sap is oozing like blood from the wounding of a violent rainstorm.
On my blotter this slightly bitter, even medicinal green note persists for some time. It doesn't sweeten. It remains potent. This would be an ideal fragrance to wear on a summer morning during the exam season, when you need to keep your mind focussed, refreshing it with a deep inbreath of greenness. Others, though, might find this very sharpness off-putting.
The next test is to wear it on the skin and in polite company ...
I am a Fragrantica refugee, sickened by its toxic politics and seeking a place where I can breathe in cleaner air, before turning my attention back to the world of perfume. I am also a self-confessed incense-worshipper, seeing that note as worthy of attention in itself, rather than as a mere accompaniment to a religious ceremony.
One of my first reactions to Behind the Rain, was to experience that clearing of the air I needed. The fragrance has an immediate impact: a strong, refreshing aroma, reminiscent of camphor and mint. A second reaction was to hastily rearrange the fragrance's categorisation: instead of the incense-led perfume I had anticipated, I am savouring something greener and herbaceous.
Paul Schütze conjures an Aegean island after the rain. That's the clearing of the air again: it's clean and fresh, but also laden with scents of uprooted wood and grass. I don't get fennel, but pine mostly and not the pine of a soapy foam bath, but it's as if my nose is pressed into freshly-split wood, where sap is oozing like blood from the wounding of a violent rainstorm.
On my blotter this slightly bitter, even medicinal green note persists for some time. It doesn't sweeten. It remains potent. This would be an ideal fragrance to wear on a summer morning during the exam season, when you need to keep your mind focussed, refreshing it with a deep inbreath of greenness. Others, though, might find this very sharpness off-putting.
The next test is to wear it on the skin and in polite company ...
