By the time the lovely Wine Scamp and I met for dinner at a local wine bar, I’d been pondering the overlap between perfume and wine for some time. When I talk to the uninitiated about my perfume world, wine nearly always comes up. It’s that other slightly mystifying luxury having to do with France and bottles whose crazy aficionados are always going on about “notes.” Wine reviews are also one of the few places one can read an analysis of smells in the mainstream press. And unlike food writers, who discuss the smells of ingredients (rosemary, star anise) or techniques (caramelized onions) wine writers refer to things that can’t possibly be in the glass: leather, hay, violets, smoke. Smells that sound more like something you’d find in a perfume (and I’d like that one, thank you).
“You should be a natural,” the Scamp had said, when I told her I wanted to learn more about wine. An attentive nose, it turns out, is essential to enjoying wine, not only because its complex bouquet is part of its beauty but because its flavor is so entwined with its scent. We smell wine when we sniff it in the glass, and then we smell it again when we swallow it and the volatile fragrant molecules rush up from the alcohol warmed on our palate into our retro-nasal passages. A wine that has a long lovely “finish” — a flavor that goes on and on in the mouth after you’ve swallowed — seems to offer a gastronomical version of a perfume’s dry down.1
Reading about this I wondered, not for the first time, why perfume and wine people don’t hang out more often. Couldn’t wine lovers benefit from a tour through my perfume collection, or at least a round with my raw materials?
I’m not the only one to have had this thought. When the Scamp arrived she was carrying what looked like an enormous atlas labeled Le Nez du Vin. “I thought it might be fun for you to look at my smell kit,” she said. Once we were seated, she slid the book out of its case. “Sorry,” she apologized, as a wave of something like sweetened galbanum swept over us, “someone broke my green pepper and it leaks.”
The “book” was a case containing 54 small bottles, each a fragrant note commonly found in wine. There was also a menu dividing the notes into categories (“leafy,” “woody,” “toasty,” and so on) and a set of watercolor illustrated flashcards. The latter explained the molecular compound that corresponded to each note, and the kinds of wines most likely to display it. The cards were lively, clear and, like the whole endeavor, very French — the card for butter shows a European style brick and the accompanying text begins, “Four French butters enjoy ‘apellation d’origine contrôlée’ status.”
Later, the Scamp showed me an additional set, “Les Défauts,” that contains the twelve notes most commonly found in wine that is “off,” including rotten apple, vinegar, glue, soap, and horse. (“Now it so happens that Bacchus’ patronage does not always suffice to protect wine from the whims of nature and human error,” begins the accompanying pamphlet written by Le Nez du Vin founder Jean Lenoir.)
In both sets the idea is the same: smell is not the obscure realm of people with special noses, it is a language that can be learned like any other, through repeated exposure and memorization. The Scamp and I sniffed through some of the 54 notes together. We agreed the peach was good, but had trouble with the apricot and lychee. Some notes smelled remarkably “true” to us, others like fake candy versions of themselves, and a few were unrecognizable — “toast” smelled like caramel popcorn. (Maybe it’s French toast?)
When I contacted Le Nez du Vin, they told me that the notes had been created by analyzing and isolating the aromachemicals found in wine. They weren’t intended to be copies of the scents in life, but of the scents in wine. I remember Robin once saying of L’Artisan’s Fleur de Carotte that she had to adjust her nose to “what a carrot translated into perfumery smells like.” These were scents translated into wine.
But of course, neither a perfume nor a glass of wine is merely a collection of separate notes. It matters how those notes come together, when you smell them, and with whom. The Scamp and I ordered four glasses of wine — two white, two red. On another night they might have been merely good, but because we sat across the table from each other outside on a spring evening sniffing and describing what we smelled, and sipping and describing what we tasted, and then eating and sipping and talking some more, they were gorgeous. Was that tobacco or new leather in the red? Was I crazy, or did the apricot in the white just turn into melon?
“This so great,” sighed the Scamp. “I hardly ever get to geek out like this.”
“I know,” I said. “People think I’m crazy when I go on and on about smells.”
As the wine warmed and changed in the mild night air, it was more clear than ever to me that both perfume and wine were simply fragrance suspended in alcohol, one reacting to the warmth of my skin, the other to the warmth of the air and my palate, both intoxicating in their own ways. We sipped very slowly with all that talking and when we were ready to leave there was still a fair amount of wine left in the glasses.
“Don’t you feel guilty?” I asked the Scamp. I always feel guilty when I don’t finish my wine. It’s part of why I don’t know more about them. I’m such a lightweight I never get past the second glass.
“Not at all,” she replied. “We drank what we wanted, and we appreciated everything that we drank.”
I took one more swallow of the apricot-melon white. It was almost too warm to drink, and the melon was fully present, honeyed and overripe, in the glass and on my tongue.
And that was enough.
1. At least I'm pretty sure that's how it works. Please do correct me in the comments if I've gotten the wrong idea here.
Note: image is wine [cropped] by Joe Shlabotnik at flickr; some rights reserved.
Great article, Alyssa!
I’m not a wine drinker myself, but I enjoy the caramel/vanilla nuances I perceive in the bourbon I drink.
Yes! Love bourbon for that very reason. I’m trying to learn more about it, too.
I enjoy bourbon for much the same reason- I adore the smell of the cork in both Knob Creek and Woodford Reserve. Delish!
Interesting! Wonder how many bourbonistas there are on here. Speak up y’all! Give me an excuse to do a bourbon post!
I’m one too! Bulleit bourbon is my favorite.
BOURBON!!!
New York is kind of a crap town for bourbon. I still look for it. I love it.
A friend of mine just attended a bourbon tasting at the Brandy Library in Tribeca. Perhaps that might work for you?
Bourbon!
My two favorites, Fragrant Witch!
On the local news the other night, they reported that there are more barrels of bourbon in Ky. than people!
Those smell kits sound so cool, I want one!
They are on the expensive side. I think the part that was the most fun for me was just seeing which notes they picked and the aromachemicals they corresponded to. A mini-chemistry lesson. (Can only take mine in small doses.)
Alyssa, since I love both perfume AND wine, I especially appreciated this article. It sounds like you had a very fun evening. That smell kit would be great to have!
It really was a lovely evening. We were both women who love describing what we smelled and tasted. What more do you need?
Wine and perfume should hang out, and they DO!
Great post! I’d love to drink wine and talk scents with you sometime.
As a sommelier, my fellow wine professionals are a little skeptical about it, but my perfume professional pals love the connection. In many ways, my love and expertise of wine brought me to perfume. it’s more than just the fun of unlocking an olfactory puzzle, but the feeling and sensations that you associate with the olfactory story in a wine or a perfume.
Even the skeptics enjoyed an event we did for Eau d’Italie at LAFCO last summer. (Read about it here: http://www.divinonyc.com/2010/12/09/wine-and-perfume-for-lafco/)
Hopefully we’ll be doing more soon, so stay tuned.
Well, hello! I’m so pleased that someone is out there making these connections and would very much like to talk to you about your events. Please contact me if you like–alyssaATnstperfumeDOTcom
Coming back to add–I love the way you’ve described what attracts you. My whole post in an efficient sentence! I do wish wine people were less suspicious of the perfume world. I think they could learn a lot from us.
Fantastic article Alyssa! I will be seeing my brother, who trained as a chef and had a degree of sommelier training, in a couple weeks and this will definitely be on the conversational agenda. Thanks!
Yay! I have read several articles now about chefs raiding Sephora in search of new inspiration, or starting to use scent in their work more deliberately. It just seems like wine is the place where those two things join together. So much intricate fun!
That was such fun to read.
Thank you!
What a beautifully written article describing a wonderful evening. Isn’t it great when passion, education, the senses and good company all converge for the perfect storm of enjoyment?
I love good red wine (actually better than I can afford – lol) but I’ll also raise my hand as one of the boubon lovers on here.
Thanks, Rapp! (*scribbles down another mark in bourbon column*)
More and more, I think that kind of slow appreciation is what everything should be about.
Oh, I agree totally. But I’ve been there for quite a long time now.
Lucky you!
What a great article! My brother used to work at a winery so it is always fun hearing about wine!
I be you’ve had some very interesting conversations! An appreciation of scent must run in the family.
I’v been interested in perfume for a couple of years (bad memory- don’t ask) and that interest has definitely made me curious about wine. Especially if I’m with someone who is knowledgeable about it. Also its possible to get wine here with the notes listed on it! Thing is though – like you I cant drink much of it, and so I dont get to taste very often. While you cant get past your second glass, I generally cant make it through a third of a glass! I usually only manage a few sips, but the last time this friend told me that I could only fully appreciate the smell by filling my glass to 3/4. So I did that, and kept inhaling the vanilla, coffee and nuts. Anyway, I enjoyed the smell so much I ended up chugging it all (well the rest of the glass, that is!)
Some wine bars will serve “flights” of wine–several smaller glasses in lieu of one large one, specifically for tasting. I love that, but I don’t find it often. I also follow a wine seller on twitter who once posted a picture of *sample vials* of wine which made me crazy. Why can’t I order those? And while were at it, I’d like to order them for bourbon, and liqueurs, and everything else, too.
Cool – I need to find one of those.
Can you imagine the storage issues that would arise from collecting wine AND perfume samples. Not to mention the issues that arise from confusing them and accidentally downing your latest gourmand scent!
Ha! Somehow I feel I could manage it…
My husband, a serious scotch aficianado, first got a glimmer of understanding of my passion for perfume as he was sharing with me an article about single malts. Subtleties of taste and smell…common to all lovers of fine wine, liquor, food – and perfume!
Yes! Love that cross-over.
Very happy to see this post! As intimated in other comments, wine seems to be something more people *get*. I often find that if I connect my love of perfume to how people talk about wine, they are more open to it. I am not a drinker, but I AM a foodie, and that is another area that there seems to be such crossover. If you can discuss the advantages of different cheeses or coffee beans and roasters, then you are using a very similar set of skills, IMO, as being a perfumista! Yay, savoring our senses!
Three cheers for that, and a toast, too!
Really interesting stuff!
Glad you enjoyed it!
My “signature” scent is “Perfumed Wine – Rose” by “A Perfume Organic” (it will hold me over until she releases the scent she made for “Study; New York”. “Perfumed Wine” is viscous, rich, resinous and has a smooth, honeyed lusciousness. It smells of applejack, apple pies, Grimm’s fairy tales and historical New England. I smell astringent wood, soft cinnamon and clove and it really does remind me of being in a still. It’s lovely and a great marriage of a wine and perfume sensibility. Many of her other blends have that same, “steeping”, liquored quality and I’m thinking I might need to buy more of the juicy-crisp “Green”, since I’ve run-out and I don’t want to enjoy a summer without it :).
Whoa. One of my favorite perfumes is Botrytis, from the wine company Ginestet. I love it for it’s honey note and the gorgeous Yquem like opening. Must try this line I have never heard of until exactly now!
Ooh. This sounds lovely! *jots note to sniff this line*
I feel that Amouage Memoir has a boozy/winey note that I like very much.
Also taking notes, and I love Botrytis too. What a great article, Alyssa, and a perfect pairing – of people! I’m going to bookmark Wine Scamp’s blog, which looks like great fun.
I love wine, Armagnac, and Cognac, and my husband drinks scotch and bourbon. Our noses spend quality time hovering over glasses, ha ha. There’s so much to learn!
“I wondered (…) why perfume and wine people don’t hang out more often”
Oh, but they do: some are even married to each other, and cross-pollinate quite often
:0D
(wait, does that sound ‘off’? It’s not meant to~)
Having worked in wine, my husband’s close to opening a wine store with 3 other friends, in which I have suggested a small corner for niche fumes. We’re still talking about that one, having contractor problems far exceeding little things like stock; but I shall keep working on it…
What an interesting idea! You could point to Ginestet, which I just mentioned above, as an example. I would think your main trouble would be creating proper ventilation/enclosure so the scents of the wine and perfume didn’t mix.
I think wine people are often so interested in the smell of the wine that they loathe any interference. Perfume is a common and obvious one, at least in restaurants. And then, since there’s so little info out there about how wonderful the perfume world really is, it just gets dismissed across the board as obnoxious. But maybe that’s just the wine people *I’ve* met. I seduced the Scamp ahead of time with samples, he he…
I wondered about that!
I’m lucky enough to spend time with a wine expert every day- my fiance. Sniffing and discussing the content of our glasses is pretty much on the menu every night; he doesn’t mind if I sit sticking my nose in my glass sniffing away – actually he encourages it. Just the other night I had sprayed on some Herba Fresca to try to cool off a bit when he sniffed me and exclaimed “Wow, you smell just like the Torrontes we just finished!” Gotta love him!
He’s a keeper for sure! Congrats!
I have that wine + perfume conversation half the times I’m at a dinner party since in France, wine-tasting is practically a competition sport within a certain social class of (mostly) men. And oddly, among non-perfume-initiates, when I meet someone who can efficiently parse perfume notes, it’s almost always a man, because of that wine-tasting thing…
What I’m wondering is how come the whole wine-tasting culture is so gigantic compared to the perfume culture.
Oh, man, D. I could write a whole essay in answer to your question (and perhaps someday I will). I would start with wine’s connection to food, add the male-dominated culture of wine-making and drinking (lots of male perfumers, as we know, but perfume itself is designated a feminine frippery in most of the West) and then add a heaping dose of marketing and sub-culture growth over the past thirty years or so, which is also the time span in which the cult around gourmet (mostly French and Italian) and “authentic” food grew up.
Um…because perfume doesn’t loosen the inhibitions the way wine does?
Oh, I don’t know. Perfume loosens my inhibitions pretty well…
Wonderful article Alyssa— the perfect way to start my day
Thank you!