Grasse did not grow up around perfume, though. The perfume business grew out of the region's
reeking tanning industry, which relied on the area's numerous springs and flocks of sheep to produce leather and leather goods.
Grasse's glovers and perfumers used wild myrtle--which grew locally and in abundance--to powder their products and cut the
strong smell of the leather. They also used ambergris, musk, and an assortment of aromatic plants native to the region to
perfume gloves as the fashion changed.
In
1614, King Louis XIII officially recognized the city's Guild of Perfumed Glove Makers, and in 1689 Louis XIV granted the guild
the exclusive right to manufacture powder for the wigs that were then fashionable. But before the Industrial Revolution, in
the mid-nineteenth century, perfume was only a cottage industry in Grasse. Farmer-perfumers
hauled their stills into the fields, where they distilled their products on the spot.
Today, more than two dozen companies in Grasse produce perfume
and related products, including scented soap and food flavorings such as the extract used to make Greek ouzo. According to
the International Perfume Museum, which is located in the heart of Grasse, the city provided
95 percent of the raw materials for the perfume industry until the 1950s.
The Smells of Fat City
One
might wonder how the perfume capital of the world came to be named Grasse, which means "fat" or "fatty." No one knows for sure. Of the possibilities that I've heard suggested,
my favorite is that it is named after the key feature of enfleurage, the oldest method of capturing and transferring a scent
from source to product.
Cold enfleurage is a technique that is particularly
suited to delicate flowers such as violets, mimosa, and jasmine. It requires tons of flower petals and seemingly innumerable
buckets of animal fat, which, as the ancient Egyptians discovered, absorbs odors. Cold enfleurage was popular until the 1950s,
when increasing labor costs and the availability of synthetic scents made it impractical and unnecessary.
In
their heyday, Grasse's perfume factories had 70,000 to 80,000 square enfleurage frames. Workers would slather fat on a pane of glass, then
cover the fat with a layer of blossoms. A stack, usually of about 35 frames, would be set aside until the fat had absorbed
their scent. Then the petals would be removed and a fresh layer laid on. This process would continue until the pomade was
supersaturated with the floral scent. The pomade (originally made with apples, as the name implies) would be scraped off,
rinsed in alcohol, and filtered to produce an infusion. At the Perfume Museum, wooden scrapers that have not been used for nearly a hundred years still retain a strong floral
scent.
Distillation is nearly as old as enfleurage. The process is used to
produce essential oils from such plants as lavender, geranium, or patchouli. The plant matter is boiled in an alembic, and
the aromatic vapor is piped through a "swan neck" and curving pipes leading to a Florentine flask. Here the essential oil
is collected in one chamber as it condenses and separates from the scented water. The water is poured off and the essential
oils retained. The process makes use of the sixteenth-century Italian monk Mauritius Frangipani's discovery that odors are
soluble in rectified or purified spirits such as alcohol. The oils are further refined in an egg-shaped rectifier. About 400
pounds of raw patchouli leaves yields a quart of essential oils.
During
a family visit to Grasse, we decided to visit Galimard, one of the largest and oldest perfumeries in the
city. Galimard is second in size only to Fragonard and is bigger than another rival, Molinard. Competition between the companies
is polite, fierce, and evident. Where there is a Fragonard billboard, Galimard and Molinard billboards cannot be far away.
Signs touting tours of Galimard's perfumery are usually surrounded by others from its competitors.
Jean-Pierre Roux, Galimard's general director, comments that flowers are not
as plentiful in the region as they once were. Visitors to Grasse in search of great fields of blooms
will be disappointed. For the most part, he explains, the flowers are grown in small family plots. Admittedly the kinds in
bloom change according to the time of year, but we were indeed hard-pressed to find flowering fields beyond the violets of
Tourette-sur-Loup and the lavender on Isle St. Honorat.
The Nose Knows
While
one might think of perfume as an expensive commodity, a closer look at the process helps to make its cost more understandable.
One example is the extraction method, introduced in the mid-nineteenth century, which uses heated solvents that evaporate
during the process.
A pound of
jasmine contains almost four thousand flowers. A worker typically picks five to seven pounds before sunrise (after which the
jasmine blossom loses its scent). In the extraction process, more than twelve hundred pounds of jasmine petals are steeped
in a volatile solvent in an extractor tank for about three and a half hours. This results in the production of slightly over
two pounds of concrete, a solid, waxy mass that will be mixed with alcohol and churned in a batteuse (thrashing machine),
filtered, and chilled to produce the absolute essence. The man-hours alone go far to explain the expense. Synthetic products,
virtually indistinguishable from the natural ones, have helped to provide less-expensive scents.
Not all of the natural materials used for perfumes are vegetable. Sometimes
a floral scent can be considered too delicate or ephemeral. When that happens, the perfumier turns to earthier substances,
including animal secretions or by-products. For example, the International Perfume Museum reports that Arpge, by Lanvin, contains ambergris, the waxy secretion discharged naturally (and found floating in
the ocean) from the intestines of a sperm whale. So do the popular Bal Versailles and a number of
scents from other companies.
Historically,
animals such as the musk deer were killed to obtain extracts, a process known as "killing the hen to get an egg." With time,
however, economics and pragmatism led to extraction from live animals. In Ethiopia,
for example, civet is harvested from caged civet cats every 5--7 days in a crude and painful procedure. Today, because of
growing public concern for animal rights, Grasse perfumes have replaced at least 75 percent of the animal by-products with synthetic
chemicals.
Whatever their source,
odors form a palette of fragrances that olfactory artists use to create a unique scent. Fragrances are arranged on a "perfume
organ," with the scents ordered according to whether they are base, middle, or top notes. The perfume organ is an array of
two thousand or so odors--not all of them pleasant--used to compose a harmonious scent. The professional who has the final
word in the creation of any scent is known as le nez (the nose). This person must work according to an awareness of changing
tastes, now more at the direction of the owners than of his own imagination.
The nose must memorize thousands of individual scents and accurately recall
and distinguish their nuances and subtleties. He must be able to mentally formulate how various scents interact with each
other, in order to conceive of balanced aromas with a range of subtle components. The nose must also be able to deconstruct
a scent at one sniff. As Jacques Maurel, the Galimard nez, dryly observed when I asked whether every perfumery had a nose:
"Without a nose, there can be no perfumery."
Defense Against Dark Odors
Throughout history, perfume has been used to please the gods, defend against disease and olfactory insults, and enhance
beauty. While we might scoff at the pagan practices of the ancients, the use of incense continues in contemporary religious
services, aromatherapy enjoys widespread popularity, and men and women still use perfumes, ointments, and colognes in their
arsenal of amorous pursuit.
Perfumes are more than
the excretions of a civet or the simple essence of lavender. They are complex creations built on scientific principles. Whether
they suggest the delicate scent of Shalimar or possess the olfactory punch of patchouli, aromas are powerful. A disagreeable
odor can ruin an otherwise pleasurable moment, just as a floral scent enhances mood. Those who can afford to embellish the
aroma of their surroundings have always done so.
The Greeks believed that sweet smells were a good omen, and Alexander the Great burned incense in
the anterooms to his chambers. Ancient Romans dedicated certain scents to specific gods. Venus, for example, enjoyed ambergris,
while Juno inexplicably preferred the heavy smell of musk. Seventeenth-century courtesans doused themselves with musk and
myrrh, and dandies fended off offensive odors with perfumed handkerchiefs and nosegays. Women in India carried perfume
inhalers into the twentieth century.
In fact, the use of some kind of scent to disguise or obscure more natural aromas is a human constant, from
the Roman emperors who dispensed perfume through silver ducts in their homes to the Sun King's installation of perfume fountains
at Versailles. Even the modern bachelor is likely to deploy the forces of Glade when guests are expected.
The profession is celebrated in Grasse's annual Concours des Nez (Nose Convention), which is sponsored by the Rotary Club.
My friend Rogelle Furet's physician-brother, Tancrede Bonnici, is one of the organizers. For those who cannot make it to the
South of France, a more accessible insight into the making of a nose (as well as an imaginative basis for committing a murder
undetected) is Patrick Suskind's novel Das Perfum, which has been translated into English as Perfume: The Story of a Murder.
At one point Suskind's hero, J.B. Grenouille, declares: "Who masters fragrances masters the heart of man."
Le
Nez for a Day
Although
I have known Jean-Pierre Roux casually for a number of years, it was through our friends, Guy and Rogelle Furet, that he and
his wife, Chantal, agreed to meet us at Galimard's Studio des Fragrances on the Route de Pégomas in Vieille Grasse, the old
section of the city known as the Perfume Capital of the World. There Galimard's nez, Monsieur Maurel, would walk us through
the process of designing a personal scent.
The
perfumery was founded by Jean de Galimard in 1747 and has been in Roux's family for generations. John-Pierre's father was
a chemical engineer who developed scents for the company. His grandfather had raised plants, especially orange and jasmine,
for perfume. Roux's whole family remains intimately involved with the operation of the perfumery. His sisters Martine and
Genevive often work in the shop, and when a third sister, Elizabeth, is not at her home in the United States, she helps out too. More recently, Jean-Pierre's daughter Delphine has joined the sales force.
Based primarily in Grasse, Galimard also has outlets in Eze,
a charming medieval town overlooking Cap Ferrat and Villefranche on the Mediterranean, and Gourdon, a village high in the
Alps. Each site has something unique to offer visitors. At Eze, one can watch Galimard employees making soap and then visit
the exotic gardens of thousands of cacti and its magnificent view of the Mediterranean. Across the street from the quaint
Galimard shop sprawls a Fragonard outlet.
At
Gourdon one can enjoy le source, where perfumed water seems to flow from hidden springs. We overheard a man telling his children
the local legend that the perfume fountain had been discovered here hundreds of years ago. There is also a towering view of
the French Riviera from the Eagle's Nest (Nid d'Egle) restaurant. Probably the most fun that a visit to the Galimard facilities
offers though, is in Grasse.
At
the Grasse studio, for the cost of a moderately priced perfume, you can spend about two hours learning, experimenting,
and developing a personal scent. Not only do you get a diploma certifying completion of the perfume seminar, but you take
home three and a third ounces of the fragrance you have developed. Galimard will even file the formula in case you want to
reorder your creation. Of course, like fine wine, the perfume will not be ready immediately. It takes about two weeks for
the essences to blend.
At the
start of our visit, Chantal Roux asked me a series of pointed questions about my daughter-in-law's age, coloration, and skin
type. This was intended to help me select a suitable perfume as a gift. I was impressed by the depth and precision of her
questions. Who would have guessed, I mused, that, in addition to their harassment quotient, department store mass spritzers
were being unscientific when they randomly sprayed unsuspecting customers?
Maurel then walked us through the scent-making process. First he evaluated our
varying olfactory sensitivities. He explained the five families of scents and the nature and function of the three notes,
or component parts. The floral scent family probably does not require elaboration. The cypress (chypre) family includes blends
of oakmoss, castor, labdanum, and patchouli. The fern family includes woody notes, the notes of the amber family are warm
and woody, and the leather family notes are spicy, dry, and long-lasting.
Typically,
a good perfume contains from nine to more than a hundred fragrances, with three notes. The top, key, or peak notes are the
floral scents. These are most readily evident when one first smells a perfume, but they are also the first to dissipate. It
is because of the ephemeral quality of the top notes that experts suggest you wear a scent for about twenty minutes before
evaluating whether you like it.
The
middle, core, or heart notes modify the top notes. They are more enduring than peak notes and give the perfume its character.
The base or bottom notes are those that persist the longest and hold the composition together.
After about an hour of trying to identify such a variety of aromas, we had to
give our noses a rest. However much we were enjoying whiffing the mouillette, a strip of unscented paper dipped in our concoction,
we had to air out our nasal passages in preparation for the final stage of olfactory assault involved in the second hour of
formulation. Soon we would be ready to continue with the creation of Notre Parfum.
Of course, for most customers it is easier to allow someone else to develop
the scent. At one time, this was the exclusive purview of the nez. He would conceive of a formula for perfume and use his
mental repertoire of odors to combine exactly the right proportions of moss, whale intestinal discharges, flowers, and citrus
fruits to create l'essence juste. Today, a nez is just as likely to receive inspiration and suggestions from management, who
sniff at the shifting winds of fads to decide what is marketable. (For a virtual tour of the Galimard factory, visit www.galimard.com/1grasse0.html.)
The International Perfume Museum
For
an overview of the history and techniques of perfume making, there is no better place than the International
Perfume Museum at 8 Place de Cours in Grasse. Rogelle's father, Roger Bonnici,
recently retired from a long tenure in the perfume industry, was kind enough to arrange for a private tour.
Appropriately enough, the Perfume Museum is housed in a nineteenth-century building that once housed the Hugues-Ané perfumery. It also includes space in a
fourteenth-century building that was once a Dominican convent. Outside the entrance, visitors encounter the statue of a seventeenth-century
perfume peddler in full regalia, including a display of his wares.
Thérese
Roudnitska, representing the friends of the museum, greeted us before we toured the complex. Her ties to the industry were
not readily apparent. Madame Roudnitska is the widow of Edmond Roudnitska, a self-taught nez who created many well-known perfumes.
In 1939, he created his first popular scent, It's You, for Elizabeth Arden, followed by a host of scents for Marcel Rochas
including Moustache, considered the first scent for men. Later came Eau d'Herms and Grand Eau d'Herms and a half-dozen scents
for Christian Dior, including Dior-Dior and his chef d'oeuvre, Eau Sauvage.
Madame Roudnitska handed us off to her associate, Arane Lasson, who guided us
through the museum, explaining the exhibits that represented four thousand years of perfume and cosmetic history. The Perfume Museum presents more than the history of scent; it also displays the evolution of the containers for the scents, from the
ordinary blue-glazed Egyptian ceramic makeup pot from three or four thousand years ago to the elegant Baccarat cut glass of
the twentieth century.
The exhibit
begins with an array of the containers, tin-lined copper drums that brought geranium and rose oils from Turkey, buffalo horns that imported civet secretions from Ethiopia, camel
bladders that carried sandalwood, and stoneware that brought cloves from India. While
containers today are less exotic, vigorous international trade continues with bergamot and irises from Italy, mint from Brazil and the United States, oakmoss from
Yugoslavia, and citronella from China.
More intriguing was the wonderful assortment of bottles and phials designed
to contain scents over the past four millennia. They were arranged in periods that clearly demonstrate changes in attitudes
toward the function of the containers, from the primitive pieces of Northern Africa through Marie Antoinette's cosmetic
case, Art Deco containers, and novelty bottles. We are reminded that, in the early twentieth century, perfume maker Francois
Coty offered his simple formula for success: "Give a woman the best product that you can make [and] present it in a perfect
bottle."
Following his own advice,
Coty formed a partnership with master glassmaker René Lalique, who went on to design bottles for other perfumers, as well.
Baccarat Crystal joined in, creating elegant bottles for perfumes such as Guerlain's classic Shalimar.
The Perfume Museum also maintains its own rooftop greenhouse. There visitors may see and smell the natural plants that are cultivated
for perfume. Because the museum's education programs include one for the visually impaired, signs in the greenhouse include
a braille panel. Tubes at each sign contain samples of the plant's scents. (For a virtual tour of the International
Perfume Museum, visit museesdegrasse.com.)
Students
and visitors come to the Perfume Museum to touch, smell, and taste the various infusions made with ingredients harvested
in the greenhouse. It doesn't take them long to realize that, in Grasse, there is more to the perfume business
than they ever expected. It is all there, right under their noses.