Grâce aux “Sens”-ations

View from Grasse (Personal Photo)

Photographs never do a city justice. It is an attempt to capture a moment in time, although time never stands still, never poses for cameras to click-click-click the shutter buttons. A photograph captures sight, but not sound. Even video, which can record movement and sound, only appeals to two dimensions of the sensory experience.

But what is missing is touch, caress of the wind as you walk along the promenade, the warm tickle of sunlight on your cheeks. And smells, good and bad: baking aromas that drift by as you pass a patisserie; the brush of a passer-by’s perfume; the sweet, smokey odour of a fresh cigarette; gasoline from idling cars; and the occasional whiff of dog shit. And feelings: the excitement that resurfaces over and over when you realize that you are in France.

At the parfumerie Molinard (Personal Photo)

By you, of course, I mean me. Unless you’re one of my classmates, you are reading this, perhaps wishing you were here, but only capable of reading my words and viewing the photos I post. I can attempt to paint a picture with words, but I fear they cannot do justice to my actual experience here.

Let me return to the topic of senses—smell, in particular. On October 10th I visited Grasse, a small town that challenged my olfactory organs. Situated 1.5 hours from Nice by bus, Grasse is the perfumecapital of the world.

After touring the premises, I decided to join four of my classmates in a perfume workshop. It was pricey, but I enjoyed myself, so from that respect it was worth every centime. We learned about the smell pyramid: perfume is not simply one scent sprayed onto your skin. It is complex, a layering of complementary essences. It starts with the head note, your initial impression of a perfume upon scenting it. It is short-lived, lasting between five and ten minutes, before giving way to the heart note. The heart note is the theme of the perfume, often fruity or floral in nature. The five of us had the opportunity to create our own unique scent of perfume by blending smells from each of the three layers of a perfume. Before actually mixing it, we used scent sticks dipped into the bottles and mixed and matched. We then got to keep a 50ml bottle of it; if we ever want to, we can order more from the perfumery. 

Atelier de parfum (Personal Photo)

Ah, how to describe mine? I called it Maeve’s Kiss—for those who know who “Maeve” is. In addition to being a character from my writing, the name “Maeve” belongs to the Fairy Queen (think Romeo and Juliet’s “Mahb”), and it means intoxication. It’s light and floral at the beginning, then moves into a fruitier heart note, and lingers on the skin with rich sweetness. (I’ll tell you now—there’s no chocolate in it. As much as I love the flavour on my tongue, the odour did not agree with my nose.)

In another parfumerie, we learned that perfume is put in opaque, rather than transparent bottles for a good reason: sunlight breaks down the perfume and changes its smell. Makes sense, right? And the difference between eau de toilette and perfume is the concentration of the essence. Eau de toilette has about half as much essence and is better for spraying on your hair and clothes, whereas perfume is better used directly on your skin (wrist, elbows, behind the ear, behind the knee). Professional perfume experts are called “noses” and can spend over seven years of training honing their olfactory senses.

Eiffel Tower-shaped perfume (Personal Photo)

I splurged and purchased my honorary Eiffel Tower souvenir—in the form of eau de toilette. It has a lighter musk than my perfume. I can’t describe its smell because, at present, every exposed inch of my skin is saturated with a different perfume. We were able to test perfumes before purchasing them, and since perfume smells differently on the skin than in the air, I had to resort to desperate measures.

After seeing a museum and a small cathedral, we caught the bus back to Nice. We even saw a rainbow on the way back. No matter how many times I see a rainbow, it is never any less beautiful a sight. 

Smell you later!