Aromascope

Swamp Thing

July 9th, 2007

By Donna Hathaway

Lately I have been pining after perfumes that are no longer made, or are exclusive to some boutique across an ocean, or are otherwise unobtainable. I thought I would take time off from my longings to appreciate something that is freely available without having to jump through any flaming hoops on eBay or learn a new language just so I can order it.

It is time think about real summer perfumes, the ones you put on when the days slow down and the ceiling fans whir and you can’t even stand to look at the fall fashions that start hitting the stores right about now because they have wool in them. There are two basic ways to go, as I see it – wear light, fresh, ethereal, green fragrances to cut through the heat and humidity, or just wallow in it with big white florals and indolic blends that give off their own brand of heat as the temperature rises. I do a little of both, but the latter does not work in an office setting most of the time. (If you try it, use a light hand and choose wisely.)

In the former category I have some favorites, of course. My current standby for summer is Ines de la Fressange, a lovely composition featuring mandarin, neroli, bergamot, white rose, lily-of-the-valley, peony and vetiver, among other things. It is steadfast in the heat and never turns sticky. Then there is my bargain-basement discovery of Le Couvent des Minimes Orange Blossom from Bath & Body Works. It seems to have disappeared from their web site at the moment. I hope it is still around, because it is just delicious, and unbeatable for the money – I have the body cream, the EDT, and the shower gel. The clean soapiness of the orange flowers is warmed by a hint of vanilla, but it never fails in the warm weather. Max Mara is a delightful concoction with an unusual cool, fresh birch sap note that I find irresistible.

Moving on to the more sophisticated summer scents, Annick Goutal Gardenia Passion is great in any season, but it just loves summer, and it blooms on my skin like nothing else. Serge Lutens Un Lys, about which I have written before, needs no introduction except to say that its chilly perfection comes into its own it hot weather, revealing a warmer heart than you ever thought possible. Then there is Jean Patou Colony, that oddest of birds, a pineapple chypre, and pure sensuality when the mercury rises. Of course there are such classic white florals as Fracas and Joy that are best kept for romantic situations in the summer. I define a “romantic situation” as: anytime I feel daring enough to wear one of them when the temperature is over 80° F.

The one I really want to talk about, however, is another Serge Lutens – the delirium-inducing hothouse flower called Datura Noir, released in 2001. I only heard of it less than two years ago, and when I went looking for the Lutens line I discovered that my local boutique had just started carrying the SL Export line. (This was back in the day when Un Lys was part of that. Sigh.) I went to the store and tried every single one, and every one was a revelation – I had not been so stunned and amazed by an entire fragrance collection since the original and dear-departed Jean LaPorte line. Now, Datura Noir was already on my list of things to try, but I had no idea I would be so utterly captivated. If anyone had told me that I would fall in love with a perfume that had a distinct powdery note in it, I would have scoffed at the idea. I am not a powdery sort of girl at all. Yet here it was – and I was enthralled.

With one whiff of this essence, I was whisked back to my early years and the lake where we spent our summers trying to escape the punishing heat and humidity of New England. There were three beaches on “our” lake. The one we visited most often was the free public beach, which was okay but the water was deep and cold and the shore was rocky. (In northern New England the lakes don’t really warm up all that much in summer.) Another beach was also free but it was where all the boats launched, so we had to watch out for speeding outboards all the time, and it smelled of marine fuel.

Beach number three was by far our favorite, but there was a catch – in order to gain access to it you had to pay to get into the drive-in movie that was playing. We did see many a movie there, but we always tried to get there early so we could swim first. Sometimes we missed part of the show because we did not want to leave the water, which was like a warm bath on very hot nights. The footing was soft and sandy, and the water was shallow so it was never cold like the rest of the lake My memories of that beach are bound up with the drive-in experience as well – the excitement of the previews, the chill of the night air after the last movie ended (those were the days of double features!), the thunderstorms flickering in the distance, the foil-wrapped hot dogs, and drinking Tahitian Treat soda, which was like carbonated Hawaiian punch. The water smelled different too – it was sweet and a little swampy, filled with little spidery waterweeds, but never dank, just a bit on the tropical side. It was this aroma that caught me by surprise when I smelled Datura Noir. It was the smell of a hot summer night and the relief of water on sunburned skin, of a body-temperature lake and feeling like you’re getting away with something. (It could have been called “Nightswimming” after the R.E.M. song.) It is a scent of memory and of transgression, of barely understood longings and sexual awakenings, of feeling like something is about to happen but you’re just not sure what, you just want it to happen, and soon.

The stated notes, which are very likely not complete due to the aura of mystery surrounding the Lutens line, are as follows: Datura flower, mandarin peel, apricot, lemon flower, tuberose, osmanthus, bitter almond, coconut, heliotrope, myrrh, vanilla, tonka bean, and musk. It sounds like it could be a bit sticky-sweet by reading that, but no – its sweetness is damp and muted, hushed by the powder and the bitter almond, and there is absolutely nothing gourmand about it despite the presence of apricot and coconut. On me that does not come out too much, but the Datura and heliotrope (hence the powder) do. I adore all of these notes in other perfumes and by themselves as well, but the Datura is what makes it a standout. This night-blooming and poisonous beauty lends coolness to the composition that both keeps a lid on the sweetness and adds a hint of danger. I can imagine that I am some overwrought Tennessee Williams femme fatale when I put this on. It’s a white-flower fragrance that no one will mistake for ladylike, and its fans like that just fine.

(If you want a Datura fragrance that is just a little more proper, try Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier’s Secrete Datura. She is Blanche Du Bois to Datura Noir’s Maggie the Cat.)

Image sources: neimanmarcus.com, “Swamp Thing” poster by Eric Powell, cover art to Swamp Thing comic book #23.

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