Myrrh Casati Perfume by Mona di Orio

How we relate to the smell of a perfume can change over time. 

I purchased Myrrh Casati by Mona di Orio in 2014. There was something about it I couldn't relate to, which is why it was relegated to the back shelf in a fragrance storage closet. After reading mixed fragrance reviews, the only tangible sentiment I had for the luxury perfume was buyer’s remorse. Ten years later, the smell of Myrrh Casati taught me a lesson. 

The black box containing the perfume was adjacent to a box of vintage Indian sandalwood oils stored in a light-proof container. The juxtaposition of two objects, one rejected the other beloved, prompted a question. Would ten years of aging shed light on the way Myrrh Casati expresses its volatile message? It smelled like a naïve chiaroscuro ode in 2014; all effort, no shadow, no light.

Disappearing top notes, a typical occurrence in collectors' vintage perfumes, are less likely to alter the character of a well-composed fragrance kept out of heat and light. Myrrh Casati spent ten years in a box. The potential for change, even synergy, was worth seeking. I considered how the bottle of perfume reappeared when I wasn't looking for it and took it as a sign. I sprayed the perfume on my wrists and gave it time to bloom. 

The opening of the fragrance was familiar. I detected the bitter leather tang of myrrh, its medicinal edge mellowed by time and sweeter materials in the formula. I continued to focus on the perfume’s character in the way one appreciates a well-composed painting, photograph or glass of wine. It wasn't long before I was catapulted into remembering a specific smell from the past.

Myrrh Casati reminded me of the time I discovered an exquisite aroma produced by a combination of Cretan labdanum, Siam benzoin, Omani frankincense and Yemeni myrrh resins on a temperature-controlled incense heater. The perfume touched the boundaries of the incense blend in memory. This connection, from past to present and back again, changed the way I relate to the perfume today.

A temperature-controlled incense heater offers a gift that's hard to forget once you've experienced it. The underside of its ceramic lid acquires a patina of smells over time. Each incense heating session creates an effect that paves the way for the next session’s fragrant mark. Smelling the lid after it's cooled down is akin to dropping a needle on a record you need to hear again and again, so you can hold on to the feelings and meaning it inspires.

Painting of Luisa Casati by Joseph Paget-Frederics

My reference points for myrrh prior to owning an incense incense heater included: the smell of myrrh on incense charcoal (combustion), reading research papers and books, perfumery training at Givaudan and the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT), aromatic scentscapes at Catholic and Orthodox churches in New York City, and disappointing perfumes that claimed myrrh and buried it in the formula (sans the fragrant pomp of pharaonic burial). Exploration across Commiphora species generates new sensations for my nose.

There are times when a person can't relate to things they haven’t experienced or aren’t ready to receive. This may have been the case in my initial evaluation of Myrrh Casati by Mona di Orio. Studying aromatic plant resins used as incense allowed me to broaden my olfactory palette and further develop expertise beyond perfumery training. This informed a second attempt to understand Myrrh Casati ten years later. Thankfully, it was long enough for the perfume and me to come to terms with each other. Time changed both of us.

The Alchemist by David Teniers the Younger (1743-45)

Notes & Curiosities:  

If there’s anything that perfumery has taught me, it’s the reality of impermanence in the form of discontinued fragrances. Myrrh Casati is, for the time being, gone. The presence of absence makes room for something new in myrrh-themed perfumes.

Perfumer Mona di Orio trained with legendary nez Edmond Roudnitska before striking out on her own. Her work was brilliant. The first perfume released after her untimely death in 2011 was created by another perfumer in 2014. Myrrh Casati was disappointing, something that was just "there". Perhaps we needed to hear the sound of Mona's olfactory voice tickling our skin and our senses. It's not what we received, whether by objective evaluation or expectations as admirers of her work. Mona's formulas had multiple experiences living inside of them; a matryoshka of nose surprises. 

Access to quality resins is important. Be sure to seek out a knowledgeable vendors run by people that support fair trade and sustainable harvesting. In my experience, Dan Riegler of Apothecary’s Garden in Canada is one of these people. (I use his materials at home and in the classroom.) Mermade Magickal Arts sells aromatic resins, roots, wood and artisan unique incense blends you won't find anywhere else. Owner Katlyn Breene's incense offerings are often reviewed at Olfactory Rescue Service, a website dedicated to incense. (Breene introduced me to a White Lotus incense heater in 2020 that's still going strong. I'm rather fond of her Luthier incense blend.)

Exquisite incense from Mermade Magickal Arts by Katlyn Breene

Learn more about incense resins in a post titled: The Incense Project: Lessons from Peruvian Myrrh. You'll probably want an incense heater after you read it.

Ingredients in Myrrh Casati include, but may not be limited to: Peruvian pink pepper, Guatemalan cardamom, saffron, licorice, Siam benzoin, Somalian myrrh, Somalian frankincense, Indonesian patchouli, Indian cypriol (nagarmotha), and Paraguay guaiac wood. The smell of Spanish labdanum, a key ingredient in the "amber" category of perfumery that applies to Myrrh Casati, can also be smelled.

Patchouli, vetiver and sandalwood are materials that age beautifully over time. Interestingly, all three were used in the formula for Crêpe de Chine by F. Millot (1925), a vintage floral chypre perfume. Check out Bo Jensen's chemistry explanation under Vetiver here. You can look up ingredients on the Essential Oils page, find out what they smell like, and learn cool things about scent chemistry. 

A Taste of Poetry: Bread by Francis Ponge

Some poems (in this case, a prose poem about bread by Francis Ponge translated by C.K. Williams) deserve to be consumed with their subject as an immersive form of sensory indulgence.

The scent, flavor and texture of bread is one of the best antidotes for winter blues. Heck, it's the antidote for just about anything provided you have a big hunk of butter, and a cup of coffee or tea to go along with it.

Instructions: 

1. Get thee to a bakery.
2. Buy a fresh baguette and your favorite butter (the real stuff).
3. Find a place where you, the baguette and a warm beverage of your choice will be undisturbed.
4. This is your moment to have peace, quiet and respite from EVERYTHING.
5. If anyone gets in the way, put on your best Greta Garbo accent and tell them "I vant to be alone!"
6. Eat and read until you are fit for interaction with humans.
7. Share the baguette (if anything is left). 
8. Repeat weekly until March 21, 2024 (or when you see the the first snowdrop or crocus).

Bread

by Francis Ponge

The surface of bread is marvelous, first of all, because of the almost panoramic impression it gives: as though you held the Alps, the Taurus, or the Cordillera of the Andes in your hand. 

An amorphous, belching mass was slid into the stellar oven for us, where, hardening, it was shaped into valleys, ridges, undulations, crevasses.... And thenceforth all these clearly articulated planes, these thin slabs where the light meticulously spreads out its fires, – without a glance at the loathsome, underlying pulp.

This flabby, cold sub-soil, the inside of the bread, has the same tissue as a sponge: leaves or flowers are soldered together at every joint like Siamese twins. When bread goes stale, these flowers wither and shrink: they then separate and the mass becomes crumbly. 

But let's break it off here: for bread in our mouths should be less an object of respect than of consumption. 

Notes:

Selected Poems by Francis Ponge is by edited by Margaret Guiton and published by Wake Forest University Press (1994). 

Ponge is known for his prose poem style. “Bread” exemplifies this. 

Dogs of Smell & Tell: An Interview with Stella the Terrier

The many moods of Stella the terrier as she sniffs
a variety of fragrance blotters on March 4, 2020.

Stella isn't a typical Smell & Tell fan. She walks on all fours, has a superior sense of smell, and is quite curious when encountering novel scents. Stella has an interesting habit. She likes to smell fragrance blotters her owner brings home from Smell & Tell. Her reactions vary, but they’re always colorful. 

Thanks for agreeing to be interviewed by our dog interpreter. One of our readers wants to know how you manage bad smells?

It depends. What smells unpleasant to a human nose tells a slightly different story to a dog nose. Going on a smelling jag in the park is like reading a good book. You don't want to stop until you've figured out a smell, and all the smells underneath that smell, so you know the whole story. Somewhere along the way you come across something unusual or threatening, like the smell of fear. Then you have to figure out where it came from, and if you should stay, run away, or stand your ground and bark your face off.

       Stella relates to the conundrum in "Should I Stay or Should I Go" by the Clash

Have you ever followed a scent trail straight into trouble?

Following a scent trail doesn't work if you latch onto a skunk. Young dogs learn this early on, others get a case of amnesia the second time around and walk straight into skunk spray, whining and crying like an amnesiac when it's happened before. A single skunking was enough for me. Getting cleaned up afterwards isn't glamorous. The combination of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and Dawn dish detergent makes me smell like a demented lemon. Some of the skunk odor lingers, which doesn’t go over well with my friends.

Are there smells that you find overwhelming?

Things that make me feel like I can't breathe really get to me. The acrid odor of vinegar humans use to make pickles, the smell of bleach when someone in the house is in cleaning zealot mode, things like that. I loathe smoke. Smoke from a fireplace can be tough on my lungs. You won't find me close enough to get my fur in a singe, that's for sure. It's bad enough that I smell wood smoke on my fur the next day. Smelling like a piece of bacon isn’t the same as eating bacon. It's confusing.

Do you have a favorite smell?

That depends. I really enjoy smells when I have a chance to investigate them in the yard. I like playing by myself because I can chase a squirrel up a tree without interference from other dogs, and smell whatever I like. Walking on a leash can be fun as far as sniffing things, but it's subject to human whims like stopping and chatting with neighbors, or being forced to meet other people's dogs. 

To answer your question, I love the smell of being with other dogs in the dog park. You get to smell your friends, which is a combination of their unique dog smell, and smells from where they've been and who they've been with. On the whole, it's the smell of kin. Why humans don't smell each other more often is beyond me. They should take up reading books about Dr. Richard Feynman and his nose-forward ways. 

Stella the Jack Parsons terrier as a pup. She'll be 13 
on March 23, 2024. Image courtesy of Kirsten Segal.

Why do you like sniffing fragrance blotters from Smell & Tell programs at AADL?

It's like smelling a human version of a dog park crossed with a forest, a garden, the elements, a scent lab, and a chef's kitchen with a hint of je ne sais quoi. Smelling fragrance blotters from Smell & Tell is like smelling a world inside a world to infinity. I sniffed something interesting from the Brian Eno Smells program in 2020. I was captivated by a strange tuberose perfume called Nardo by Madini, and kept sniffing to figure it out. 

Then it happened. I saw my reflection in a window and didn’t recognize myself. I barked at the stranger in the glass, and was compelled to roll on the perfume blotter and pursue it. It took a few minutes before I snapped out of it. I adore and fear the smell of Nardo perfume because of this. I have a confession to make. Sometimes, when I want to understand a smell better, I lick the perfume blotter or smell through my mouth while baring my teeth. I can’t tell you why, but it works for me. I am a dog after all.

Notes & Curiosities:

Is there a logical explanation for Stella's reaction to Nardo perfume? An educated guess says that the presence of indole molecules may have something to do with it. Indole is present in mammalian feces. Its fecal-like qualities are noticeable at higher concentrations. Interestingly, indole smells like flowers at .01% (200ppm), and shapeshifts into fecal, mothball and horse-like odor qualities at .01%-1%. George S. Clark described this binary as "a Dr. Jekyll and Hyde nature" in Perfumer & Flavorist magazine. Indole signals insectivory and attracts pollinators, which is why it's vital to chemical communication in plants like jasmine and tuberose.

 "Indole presents a dual organoleptic profile, or, to state it another way, a Dr. Jekyll and Hyde nature.” Ah, mais oui. Serge Gainsbourg relates to the Jekyll-Hyde duality.

Nardo by Madini is no longer distributed in the U.S. by Talisman in Seattle, Washington. Fear not, perfume lovers. Madini perfume hasn't disappeared. Parfumerie Madini is located at 5, bd. Pasteur Tangier, Tangier-Tétouan-Al Hoceima Morocco. “The perfumery is owned by Sidi Madini and is a family business that has been passed down through his family for more than 500 years," according to a listing in Fodor's Travel. 

Remembering Nubia Through Scent at Narrating Nubia (Thru Oct 27th)

"Remembering Nubia Through Scent" supports the work of
Dr. Yasmin Moll in the Narrating Nubia exhibition at the
Duderstadt Gallery at the University of Michigan. 

Scent references in literature connect us to emotions and memories embodied in ourselves and fellow human beings. We extract smells from text without realizing it, locating internal experiences in the brain and sense making the rest as we immerse ourselves in story. Familiar aromatic signifiers create a bond between reader and story throughout the act of reading, allowing for a more immersive experience. 

Perfumers tell stories in the air with volatile molecules arranged by rate of evaporation. A typical formula is constructed with top, middle and base notes in order of ascent. Base notes-the least volatile ingredients–sustain the longevity of a fragrance. Their function supports the narrative arc of a fragrance, leaving the wearer and the receiver open to the mystery of what transpires next.

Fragrances exhibited for "Remembering Nubia Through Scent" are inspired by aromatic passages in Nights of Musk: Stories from Old Nubia by Haggag Hassan Oddoul. Each of the three scents created by Michelle Krell Kydd complement a specific excerpt of the text, and are mainly composed of base notes. 

Scent № 1: 

Long, long ago, south of the rapids, the nights exuded incense and oozed musk. They were watered by the celestial majesty of the Nile and nourished by the strip of life that lined its banks. Their sky was pure and their air invigorating. There was born generation after generation, dark, dark. We would say: “We are dark, dark, for our sun shines upon our faces.”

Key Notes: Bakhoor (vintage), Jasmine, Musk, Orris Butter, Rose, Saffron, Sudanese Frankincense (Boswellia papyrifera), Suede. 

Scent № 2: 

They had rubbed you all day with dulka oil from Halfa, with extracts of fragrant oils and herbs. Its sweet smell penetrated your pores and radiated from your body, as if dulka oil was in you, not on you. 

Key Notes: Dulka oil is made from a variety of aroma materials including smoked red acacia wood (Acacia seyal), operculum (flap that closes the mouth of the outer shell of a marine mollusk) and French perfumes mixed with oils/attars. The ingredients in dulka oil vary as it’s an artisanal creation bound to culture and tradition. This Egyptian dulka oil smells floral, woody, musky, and smokey with a hint of amber. It has a gentle uplifting quality associated with the use of citrusy aldehydes in French perfume formulas. 

Scent № 3 

All around our Nile is a translucent halo, and the tips of the waves are gentle like the steps of a tender young child. Its perfumed breeze diffuses throughout the universe, and I take in great drafts through my nose, my eyes, my pores…The long narrow strip of green breathes sweet-scented sighs and clusters of dates hang unseen in the twilight exuding a divine, intoxicating aroma. The branches are tipsy and sway softly in the roofs of the palm trees, where the primeval fragrances are blended and lovingly scattered to the four winds.  

Key Notes: Galbanum, Gamma Octalactone, Ivy, Musk, Sandalwood, Tulip Poplar Leaf. 

Photograph by Dr. Yasmin Moll

Working with an unlangued sense like smell doesn’t require proof of vision. It requires detachment from likes and dislikes, an evaluative mindset, and respect for the fact that memory and emotion precede language because humans are neurologically wired this way. Smell is memory’s sense and we cannot afford to forget this. 

The Duderstadt gallery is open from 12:00pm to 6:00pm on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday. Narrating Nubia runs thru October 27th. The Duderstadt Center is located at 2281 Bonisteel Boulevard Ann Arbor, Michigan 48109. 

Notes: 

Excerpts from Nights of Musk: Stories from Old Nubia, by Haggag Hasan Oddoul are interpreted as bespoke scents in a gallery setting. Fragrances are housed in passive scent devices arranged on a raised table in a multisensory setting. Each device can be smelled by one person at a time. Attendees are encouraged to linger as long as they wish, moving from one scent experience to the next.  

Dr. Yasmin Moll, Assistant Professor of Anthropology at the University of Michigan, obtained an exquisite Nubian Dulka oil while conducting ethnographic research in Egypt. She directed Hanina, a short film that can be viewed at the Narrating Nubia exhibit. 

Rêve d’Or by L.T. Piver is an inexpensive French fragrance used in homemade perfumes, bakhoor (incense), body oils and scrubs made by women of Nubian heritage. It’s formulated at eau de cologne strength (2-4% fragrance concentrate to alcohol) and acts as a binding agent across fragrance formulas. 

The boosting effect of Rêve d’Or can be sensed in Scent №2. It supports the unique smoked acacia wood note in the artisan dulka oil formula. Key fragrance notes in Rêve d’Or are molecules found in: orange blossom, tea rose, rose geranium, heliotrope, vetiver, clove and sandalwood. It smells great by itself and when used as a fragrance layering agent. A 14.25 oz bottle of Rêve d’Or retails for less than $30.00. 

Michelle Krell Kydd’s next project at the University of Michigan is focused on AI, machine learning, and sensory evaluation. It’s funded by a New Initiatives/New Instruction (NiNi) grant from the University of Michigan. Kydd is collaborating with Dr. Ambuj Tewari on the NiNi-funded project.