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12/28/2023
Intersport
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Blandness º Fadeur / tea º Smoke
'Name is smoke and mirrors': this is nothing new when it comes to perfumes, which is a good thing, as there are many releases that contradict their title in terms of composition, or (want to) mislead with the name, depending on your point of view. Arquiste, the brand founded by former Architectural Preservation student Carlos Huber, is fully committed to a partly 'verifiable' history, which serves as the starting point for the respective fragrances. Huber was able to realize the majority of the portfolio with the Givaudan perfumers Rodrigo Flores-Roux and Yann Vasnier. This boys' club has now been expanded by Calice Becker, perhaps not least because of Becker's 'olfactory preservation' with the reissues (1990) of two Balmain classics. Perhaps.
Indigo Smoke, i.e. indigo smoke, or indigo-colored smoke, could suggest a more or less smoky fragrance, even with the mention of a lapsang souchong note and, as always with Arquiste, the historical motif for the genesis of tea incense. But it's been a long time since I've been so fooled by a title like this one, Indigo Smoke.
Indigo Smoke is not a smoky tea fragrance, as Lapsang might suggest. Nor is Indigo Smoke a bluish, or rather indigo-colored fragrance (the epithet indigo is often used, the database here alone easily counts over 100 entries, a trend color...), whatever that may be - how indigo plants smell or whether they actually color the smoke indigo-bluish when burned remains questionable. Luckily for me, smoky per se is far from my favorite notes, even if new records seem to be set again and again when it comes to smoky aromas; in tea fragrances, only Comme des Garçons' Tea (2001) with its tar-like pavement note, or Artisan's eccentric confusion in Cœur de Vétiver Sacré (2010) have been able to inspire me in the long term. Still, I was curious here, Arquiste has always come up with something above average.
The secret star, or the central supporting role in Indigo Smoke is an apricot accord, which never takes center stage. It is modulated too much by the other ingredients and modulates the rest: the apricot accord - even in this choice of words a certain ambiguity resonates, is not unambiguously a fresh or ripe or unripe or dried, etc. apricot. Apricot, which makes it all the more interesting. I know the apricot as a central supporting role in a similar function from Serge Lutens' / Christopher Sheldrake's El Attarine (2008): Apricot, cumin, mandarin, spices; or more recently Marc-Antoine Corticchiato's Immortelle Corse (2019): Apricot + Immortelle. The apricot accord from Indigo Smoke is cooler and more bitter, which is initially supported by a bitter orange/tangerine note, and later by a subtle black tea note: dry, non-smoked, indeed light, more like young Darjeeling than stronger representatives, and more smell than taste). This (tea)leafy dryness provides a counterbalance to the stone fruit note, both fruit and tea can quickly become kitschy. A second facet comes into play here, a hay-like note, which is presumably due to the coumarin used or is noted by Arquiste - albeit geographically rather unsuitable - as a mate tea note, which in turn can appear hay-like. The dosage and also the shading is well chosen, Indigo Smoke is never as bright green as in Villoresi's prudent brew Yerbamate (2001), the coumarin/hay/mate factor is strongly dried out here and closer in color to the gray-brown-black tones of various tea leaves. This could also possibly be part of the New European Bucolic fragrances in this form - but here everything is dustier. In general, the texture of Indigo Smoke seems quite fine-grained and granular - I can only make out many of the notes in trace element-sized potencies, facets flash up again and again for a short time, unsweet vanilla in the smallest quantities, cinnamon peel, a drop of cool vetiver, a little guaiac - only explicitly smoky Lapsang tea remains a ghost until the end. Indigo Smoke is a textural fragrance par excellence, whose concrete cornerstones, profiles and voices appear blurred again and again.
in 2004, the French philosopher and sinologist François Jullien published 'Eloge de la fadeur'. In the foreword to the English version 'In Praise of Blandness', the translator talks about the difficulty of finding an appropriate English equivalent to 'fadeur'. 'Blandness' was chosen, although the German term 'Fadheit' does not quite fit. Fadeur and blandness describe a state of absence of specific, defining, form-giving or outstanding qualities - which, as Jullien shows, does not necessarily have to be bland. The book sheds light on the origins of these 'non-qualities' in Daoist and Confucian traditions in China, among others, and how they affected poetry, painting, aesthetics, and so on. Even if Jullien does not go directly into the gustatory, I can think of specific foods/dishes, part of Chinese food sequences, which are appreciated precisely for their texture and the sensation they create on the palate, more than for any particular flavor.
It is a shame that a note on this subject did not make it into Arquiste's bibliography, but it is understandable in the perfume industry, where special features and unique selling points are always celebrated. Of course, Indigo Smoke is not perfume-turned-blandness, the brand is too American and Calice Becker too French for that, but it is a quiet, delicate fragrance with an amorphous texture that is more of an aura than a space-consuming statement. This style is almost reminiscent of Artisan Parfumeur fragrances of the early 2000s, or the first editions of the Comme des Garçons parfums perfume series. Lovers of stronger perfumes, as they have become more and more fashionable, might be over/underwhelmed with Indigo Smoke. Sometimes I also find myself wishing for a few clearer strokes of color before everything disintegrates back into an atmospheric but difficult to grasp nebulousness.
Interestingly, Olfactive Studio released Smoky Soul (2023) this year on the same theme. Here, too, Lapsang Souchong Tea was still mentioned during the first public presentations. A photo of the iconographic tea fields from Fujian serves as a visual reference. Smoky Soul is not as demonstratively smoky as dried Lapsang leaves. In the meantime, perhaps to emphasize the differences once again, they have switched to Ceylon tea, i.e. tea grown on the island of Sri Lanka. I don't even want to know what happens to you in France when a wine from Bordeaux is suddenly thrown together with a reference from Burgundy - for Céline Verleure, such geographical flexibility is apparently less of a problem. Smoky Soul, designed by Marc-Antoine Corticchiato, is somewhat more immediate, darker overall, somewhat smokier and more osmanthus-heavy (see also Osmanthus Interdite (2007)) than Indigo Smoke; perhaps it is more of a fragrance that pays direct homage to osmanthus-infused teas? Next to it, Indigo Smoke seems like a haze against the stronger contours of Smoky Soul. It also fits better with Olfactive Studio, in a few moments I have to think here of the excellent, eccentric Chypre Shot, (2018), which also flirted with tea/fruit combinations, a release in which apparently, the 3-part constellations practiced by Olfactive Studio let colleagues Duchaufour run to top form.
As different as Smoky Soul and Indigo Smoke may seem at first glance, they do converge in phases as they progress; there is too much overlap between apricot and osmanthus, and also in the tea profiles - neither seems to me to be completely smoked. The finer and altogether more open texture nevertheless remains a special feature of Indigo Smoke; a great addition to Arquiste's portfolio. So blandness as a memorable characteristic after all? I can well imagine Fadeur as a name for it. Many thanks to Parma for the support!
Indigo Smoke, i.e. indigo smoke, or indigo-colored smoke, could suggest a more or less smoky fragrance, even with the mention of a lapsang souchong note and, as always with Arquiste, the historical motif for the genesis of tea incense. But it's been a long time since I've been so fooled by a title like this one, Indigo Smoke.
Indigo Smoke is not a smoky tea fragrance, as Lapsang might suggest. Nor is Indigo Smoke a bluish, or rather indigo-colored fragrance (the epithet indigo is often used, the database here alone easily counts over 100 entries, a trend color...), whatever that may be - how indigo plants smell or whether they actually color the smoke indigo-bluish when burned remains questionable. Luckily for me, smoky per se is far from my favorite notes, even if new records seem to be set again and again when it comes to smoky aromas; in tea fragrances, only Comme des Garçons' Tea (2001) with its tar-like pavement note, or Artisan's eccentric confusion in Cœur de Vétiver Sacré (2010) have been able to inspire me in the long term. Still, I was curious here, Arquiste has always come up with something above average.
The secret star, or the central supporting role in Indigo Smoke is an apricot accord, which never takes center stage. It is modulated too much by the other ingredients and modulates the rest: the apricot accord - even in this choice of words a certain ambiguity resonates, is not unambiguously a fresh or ripe or unripe or dried, etc. apricot. Apricot, which makes it all the more interesting. I know the apricot as a central supporting role in a similar function from Serge Lutens' / Christopher Sheldrake's El Attarine (2008): Apricot, cumin, mandarin, spices; or more recently Marc-Antoine Corticchiato's Immortelle Corse (2019): Apricot + Immortelle. The apricot accord from Indigo Smoke is cooler and more bitter, which is initially supported by a bitter orange/tangerine note, and later by a subtle black tea note: dry, non-smoked, indeed light, more like young Darjeeling than stronger representatives, and more smell than taste). This (tea)leafy dryness provides a counterbalance to the stone fruit note, both fruit and tea can quickly become kitschy. A second facet comes into play here, a hay-like note, which is presumably due to the coumarin used or is noted by Arquiste - albeit geographically rather unsuitable - as a mate tea note, which in turn can appear hay-like. The dosage and also the shading is well chosen, Indigo Smoke is never as bright green as in Villoresi's prudent brew Yerbamate (2001), the coumarin/hay/mate factor is strongly dried out here and closer in color to the gray-brown-black tones of various tea leaves. This could also possibly be part of the New European Bucolic fragrances in this form - but here everything is dustier. In general, the texture of Indigo Smoke seems quite fine-grained and granular - I can only make out many of the notes in trace element-sized potencies, facets flash up again and again for a short time, unsweet vanilla in the smallest quantities, cinnamon peel, a drop of cool vetiver, a little guaiac - only explicitly smoky Lapsang tea remains a ghost until the end. Indigo Smoke is a textural fragrance par excellence, whose concrete cornerstones, profiles and voices appear blurred again and again.
in 2004, the French philosopher and sinologist François Jullien published 'Eloge de la fadeur'. In the foreword to the English version 'In Praise of Blandness', the translator talks about the difficulty of finding an appropriate English equivalent to 'fadeur'. 'Blandness' was chosen, although the German term 'Fadheit' does not quite fit. Fadeur and blandness describe a state of absence of specific, defining, form-giving or outstanding qualities - which, as Jullien shows, does not necessarily have to be bland. The book sheds light on the origins of these 'non-qualities' in Daoist and Confucian traditions in China, among others, and how they affected poetry, painting, aesthetics, and so on. Even if Jullien does not go directly into the gustatory, I can think of specific foods/dishes, part of Chinese food sequences, which are appreciated precisely for their texture and the sensation they create on the palate, more than for any particular flavor.
It is a shame that a note on this subject did not make it into Arquiste's bibliography, but it is understandable in the perfume industry, where special features and unique selling points are always celebrated. Of course, Indigo Smoke is not perfume-turned-blandness, the brand is too American and Calice Becker too French for that, but it is a quiet, delicate fragrance with an amorphous texture that is more of an aura than a space-consuming statement. This style is almost reminiscent of Artisan Parfumeur fragrances of the early 2000s, or the first editions of the Comme des Garçons parfums perfume series. Lovers of stronger perfumes, as they have become more and more fashionable, might be over/underwhelmed with Indigo Smoke. Sometimes I also find myself wishing for a few clearer strokes of color before everything disintegrates back into an atmospheric but difficult to grasp nebulousness.
Interestingly, Olfactive Studio released Smoky Soul (2023) this year on the same theme. Here, too, Lapsang Souchong Tea was still mentioned during the first public presentations. A photo of the iconographic tea fields from Fujian serves as a visual reference. Smoky Soul is not as demonstratively smoky as dried Lapsang leaves. In the meantime, perhaps to emphasize the differences once again, they have switched to Ceylon tea, i.e. tea grown on the island of Sri Lanka. I don't even want to know what happens to you in France when a wine from Bordeaux is suddenly thrown together with a reference from Burgundy - for Céline Verleure, such geographical flexibility is apparently less of a problem. Smoky Soul, designed by Marc-Antoine Corticchiato, is somewhat more immediate, darker overall, somewhat smokier and more osmanthus-heavy (see also Osmanthus Interdite (2007)) than Indigo Smoke; perhaps it is more of a fragrance that pays direct homage to osmanthus-infused teas? Next to it, Indigo Smoke seems like a haze against the stronger contours of Smoky Soul. It also fits better with Olfactive Studio, in a few moments I have to think here of the excellent, eccentric Chypre Shot, (2018), which also flirted with tea/fruit combinations, a release in which apparently, the 3-part constellations practiced by Olfactive Studio let colleagues Duchaufour run to top form.
As different as Smoky Soul and Indigo Smoke may seem at first glance, they do converge in phases as they progress; there is too much overlap between apricot and osmanthus, and also in the tea profiles - neither seems to me to be completely smoked. The finer and altogether more open texture nevertheless remains a special feature of Indigo Smoke; a great addition to Arquiste's portfolio. So blandness as a memorable characteristic after all? I can well imagine Fadeur as a name for it. Many thanks to Parma for the support!
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