Parfumerie Generale's Private Collection: Psychotrope

I love perfume because it allows me to explore. Each little vial is a mystery. While the internet makes it slightly easier to discover the nose behind a particular scent, much of the creation process (or following reformulations) remains unknown. Marketing materials describe perfume notes in colorful language, but are those really the notes in the bottle? Moreover, if it is "rose", what kind of rose- a liquid diluted from a flower, a chemist's precise reconstruction of the smell or a more abstract impression, or some combination? Then there is the name, the bottle, and a number of other artistic elements that affect your overall perception and understanding of the perfume.

Psychotrope, from Parfumerie Generale's Private Collection, is a mysterious perfume. Googletranslate gave me "psychotropic" for "psychotrope," which did not make sense, so I looked it up in French:

psychotrope  

      adj inv  

1      (pharmacologie)   désigne une substance ayant une action sur le psychisme  

      n inv  

2      (pharmacologie)   cette substance  

psychotrope  

      adj inv  

1    antidépresseur  

      n inv  

2    hallucinogène  

From that I've gathered, "a substance having an effect on the psyche," "antidepressant," and "hallucinogenic." Good enough. The fun comes not from fully answering the questions, but enjoying the curiosity and reveling in the unknown.

Psychotrope fits this mysterious, rainy spring mood I've been feeling for the past week or so.  The top is all green, jasmine, and a kind of freshness that smells like the rain outside my window. The florals then come forward, jasmine, cyclamen, and violet, followed by an effortless drydown to a leather base, almost reading as vinyl, with a subtle hint of musk.  These unusual notes complement each other harmoniously, and despite the dark, strange, leather base, the whole composition reads as elegant and sophisticated.  The overall effect is beautiful and unnerving.

Guerlain's Après L'Ondée

Certain scents are difficult to explain but easily inspire the adjectives "breathtaking" and "heartbreaking." Après L'Ondée is one of these scents. Gaia, the Non-Blonde describes smelling Après L'Ondée in parfum "like entering a dream. It can be familiar, like a memory you can't quite place but you know you've been there, maybe in your subconsciousness."

Like any other art form, at its finest perfume can convey a distinct idea or emotion. The more complex the idea, the more moving the artwork. Après L'Ondée means "after the rain shower," and between the floral, herbal, earthy, and watery notes, it literally translates as a garden after the rain. Yet there is something more to this scent, that inspires consistently more romantic reviews.

At its debut, La Liberté said it had "something of the melancholy of a poet's thoughts." (Monsieur Guerlain). Turin's review is also full of dark metaphors, describing the base accord as a "funeral", but for the fact that "Guerlain suffuses the whole thing with optimistic sunlight by using, as in so many of their classic fragrances, a touch of what a chef would call bouquet de Provence: thyme, rosemary, sage. This discreet hint of earthly pleasures is what makes Après L'Ondée smile through its tears."

Après L'Ondée does smile through its tears, for the scent of the earth following the rain parallels a feeling of calm after the passing of grief. The sadness behind Après L'Ondée makes the beautiful notes all the more real, precious, and poignent. This scent brings you deep within your own reflections. It is undoubtably one of the greatest perfumes ever made.