Tag Archives: oakmoss

The Gem Emerald… Norell by Norell The Perfumed Dandy’s Scented Letter 

She had turned him down the first three times he’d asked for her hand in marriage.

Indeed she often wondered why she changed her mind the fourth time he popped the question.


Perhaps it was the bright sunshine that day, the sharp smell of freshly turned soil or the sparkling scent and sight of the hyacinths newly released from their nursery beds into the park proper.

Whatever it was that made her make it, it was a decision she refused to regret.

She’d known the proposal was coming around again: he’d asked before the previous Summer, then again at harvest festival and most recently on New Year’s Day.

There’d been a surprise when St Valentine’s had been and gone without any mention of them marrying and then she realised that he restricted himself to one request per season.

So, when he arrived that morning for a walk across to Kensington Gardens to ‘make the most of the first proper day of Spring’, she knew.

He was dressed even more smartly than was normal for him. He had a bright red carnation in his buttonhole, his skin shone from polishing and he smelt splendidly of his best lavender and mandarin cologne.

He was from glossy well combed hair to shining shoes every bit the contemporary approximation of the 1920s gentleman that he secretly wanted to be.

The Park felt much bigger that day than it had been all winter.

In the newly revived light of late April it seemed to be twice the size it was in February when they had scuttled to the Serpentine to watch the foolhardy folks skating as they sat huddled in the comfort of the tea pavilion.

The horizon now was further away and the manicured ‘wild meadows’ stretched out like a lifetime in front of them.


They paused beneath a great conifer that had deceived as deciduous tree from a distance. The striking almost acid aroma of the needles pricked at their noses and he looked a little puzzled, as if the chalky green smell of the sap had unsettled him.

Then she knew that was the moment.

“Would you…”

Before he could complete the question she heard herself responding

Yes… but I won’t be giving up work. It is 1968, even though your family may carry on as though it’s still before the war. The Summer of love has been and gone and besides I am not a school teacher as they all think I am, though there would be nothing wrong with that, I am a professional sports coach and one day women’s tennis will be quite as important and lucrative as men’s.”

“You accept?”


He kissed her still uncertain as to whether he might have been more careful what he’d wished for.

In the embrace she located a spicier undertone, there was coriander and cardamom in his saliva and his nervous sweat was salty with something of the sea and at the same time anointing oil about it.

She disentangled herself and held him at arms length, examining his face intently.

“You do know what you letting yourself in for, don’t you?”

He burst out laughing, then she did the same, then suddenly stopped.

“And I want an emerald engagement ring, I don’t care that everyone else has diamonds. Mine must be brightest green.”


Having taken the precaution of not buying a ring for this very eventuality he was able to laugh with a genuine nonchalance.

They walked back to town in silence save for when he stole a bunch of daffodils from the banks of them which lined way and presented them to her with a flourish.

She called him a thief, and knew he had in fact stolen at least a part of her heart.

She had his completely.

Vintage Norell by Norell Corporation is a brilliant bright green emerald of a scent standing proud from the shoddy crystals, cut price cut glass and paste of so much of modern perfumery.

Like a true precious stone its sparkle deceives with apparent simplicity only to be revealed as a complex construction of a genuine master, or indeed mistress’s, art.

Its myriad facets all gleam with a lustre born of careful consideration, expert blending and pitch perfect polish.

From the moment of its entry with an unmatched high accord of citrus, lavender and galbanum as clear as a soprano’s top ‘c’, one is left in no doubt that this will be an unforgettable performance.

What follows is an immense floral choral heart, led by a blue hyacinth that is joined in time in a duet by a wonderfully green carnation.

A clutch of South Asian spice: cardamom, coriander and cinnamon add texture while vetiver, oakmoss and narcissus give the whole piece and earthy and robust structure.

This is no blow away scent, feeling never less than sturdy in all its built to last elegant magnificence.

Standing like a Crystal Palace worthy of Oz, this is a vast and awesomely beautiful fragrance that can and should be appreciated for miles around.

Norell is a heart stopper.

As soon as a certain gentleman is able to acquire a sizeable quantity of this he is sure it will become something of a somedays signature.

Why all women don’t do the same is quite beyond him.

Please note dear friends that The Dandy tried Norell as manufactured by the Norell Corporation.

There have been several versions since, each less good and then more bad than the last.

Do take care when selecting jewels.

Yours ever

The Perfumed Dandy.

The Perfumed Dandy


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Sunday in the Park with… The Perfumed Dandy’s Scented Snaps


Dearest Friends

So many of you wrote in to The Perfumed Dandy last week with a liking for my humble images of a weekend away, that I thought I would share my pictures of today’s perambulations around Fair London Town.

This morning the sun shone brightly and so so The Dandy did what dandies do and made for a promenade in the Park…

But which Park might this be?

And which fragrances would go best with which photographs?

All will be revealed over the course of the week ahead… but in the meantime The Dandy would love to hear your splendid suggestions!

1. Green Leaves


2. Daffodils


3. Fountains


4. Statue


5. Tulips and Hyacinths

6. Swan


7. Green Grass


8. Folly


9. Conifer


10. Tea House


11. Trunk and Tree


12. Blossom and Children


13. Orangery


14. Palm


15. Rosebuds


16. White Narcissus


17. Electric Green


18. Topiary


19. Round Pond


20. More Leaves


21. Memorial


22. Magnolias


23. Moss Bridge and Water


24. Exotic Flowers


25. Hollow and Water


My Goodness, didn’t The Dandy get awfully snap happy?

So now he has to come up with 25 scents, five each day ‘twixt now and Friday, to go with those scenes…

Lordy! Any help by way of suggestions would be most appreciated dear brethren.

Until we meet again do enjoy whatever remains of the weekend.

Yours ever

The Perfumed Dandy.

The Perfumed Dandy


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The Quiet Scientist… Silences by Jacomo The Perfumed Dandy’s Scented Letter 

She made for quite a sight hurtling down the hillside on her sledge long after the snows had gone.

She didn’t care.

Her sleigh, as she had taken to calling it, was the fastest way from home to forest whether it was the ice of winter or the wet grass of spring under her.

Its hand polished soft wood frame, lustrous with the cool green lemon resin that she lavished upon it, cut a seamstresses swathe through the fields. She took the shortest route in the least time so as to waste none of the fabric of the day.

April showers and unseasonal warmth had brought forth a scattering of lily of the valley: with an outstretched arm she snaffled a few and tossed them into her basket without stopping or even deviating from the line of descent.

Arriving at the woodland’s edge she dismounted, wiped the cold compressed grass from her trusty steed’s blades, inhaled its bitter and brand new odour then wrapped the handful of green into tissue paper before placing it beside the muguet.

Once beneath the canopy, in dappled light and shade, her search began in earnest.

It was time for the first bluebells of the year, and she had determined to find them.

Hyacinthoides non-sctipta (how she preferred the old name of Endymion), always smell best when caught early, as though the first flush having pushed themselves so forcefully to the front are breathless and exhale their scent with a more serious ardour than later blooms.

She chanced upon them almost immediately, their hue picked out in bright watery sunlight, glowing in an otherwise out of focus glade.

She held them to her nose and was not disappointed, an innocent and uncloying sweetness, that charmed instantly. Carefully she consigned them to her carry all and prepared to climb home with her precious haul.

Then something tugged at her sense: a shaper darker smell, of trees and roots, growth and decay.

Extracting the scalpel from her lab coat pocket, she scraped a little moss from the base of a great oak, careful not to take too much, careful not to disturb the fragile colony too much lest she destroy it.

No need this time take the crop close to her face, its pungent scent reached her from the basket where it now sat.

There was another aroma too, besides the unseasonal tea rose and the wild yellow iris, but it was not until the rain came, brisk and businesslike, that it revealed itself. As she trampled a path through the undergrowth, she flattened, with the purpose of disarming them, a small cluster of nettles.

They responded not with a stinging rash, but an early smell of the next season. The scent was savoury, sodden yet sun bleached, swarthy and still clean: it was the presentiment of an English summer.

She longed to take armfuls back, but contented herself with a gloved handful or two.

And so she began her return: clambering through the already tall meadows, deep in thought as wild grasses brushed against her.

All the time considering how to turn these things collected from nature into chemicals and then how to compose them into black bottled magic.

Silences by Jacomo is a perfume that particularly deserves to be talked about, a hush that demands to be broken.

It is a glorious green, replete with floral abundance, a masterful but restrained use of moss and an uncontained herbaceous feature that is more centrepiece than border.

It is an exercise in apparently effortless formality and clear-sightedly brilliant composition.

The opening itself is quite special, a surprising cool breeze of aldehydic muguet, shot through with sharp lemon. Be alert though, for in this changeable spring day of a scent it is gone tantalisingly too soon.

Before any hint of disappointment can possibly set in at the loss of this commencement a tiered heart begins to emerge.

First the green chalk sour of galbanum arrives, only to be splendidly offset by the slight sweetness of hyacinths and more distantly rose and little iris.

Shortly after a late developing but rather beautiful and restrained oakmoss makes its entrance, providing a benign bitterness that allows the other notes to float more freely above.

Then, a product perhaps of this combination, or of the appearance of vetiver, cedar and ambrette in the base, a wonderfully natural accord of summer undergrowth, of stinging nettles in particular, comes to the fore.

This is a truly evocative aroma that carries with it the alternate heat and downpours, pleasures and pains of a temperamental temperate summer.

Silences, then, is a scent that contains two seasons, in one day and a single flacon.

And there we have a statement that should give you an impression of the tremendous scale of this achievement.

Sledges, forests, amateur botany and professional chemistry are pass times as fit for boys as girls.

With special thanks to the dear correspondent who provided The Dandy with a sample of this perfume in the vintage formulation.

Yours ever

The Perfumed Dandy.

The Perfumed Dandy


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