The first niche perfume I bought — the fragrance that plunged me head-first into perfumania — was Frédéric Malle Noir Epices.1 Meeting Noir Epice’s creator, Michel Roudnitska, brought my love of fragrance full circle.
Besides the Art et Parfum lab and office, the other white stucco building at Sainte Blanche is Michel Roudnitska and his wife’s home. Just beyond the house is a T-shaped pool with a long stem where his father, Edmond, swam laps. Closer to the house meanders a shady Japanese-style garden Michel Roudnitska laid out, complete with a tiny bridge and statues of what look to my untrained eye like Thai goddesses. Up the hill a stone's throw is the monument where Edmond and Thérèse Roudnitska’s ashes are interred.2
I kept a steady watch on the house while Olivier Maure, Art et Parfum’s director, went to fetch Roudnitska. I’ve never had the chance to meet in the flesh someone about whom I’ve read so much and whose fragrances I’ve worn (besides Noir Epices, I’ve worn Roudnitska's DelRae Amoureuse and DelRae Début).
At last Roudnitska emerged from the house and put away his cell phone. You’d think this would be where I’d tell you that, like Robert Redford and Tom Cruise, he’s shorter than I’d imagined. In fact, Roudnitska is tall — a Giacometti come to life with a long, graying ponytail and the sharp cheekbones of a Sioux. He doesn’t look like the type to spend a lot of time in a pinstriped suit lounging in high-rise boardrooms. He greeted Denyse with kisses (she’s been to Sainte Blanche a handful of times) and shook my hand. I was elated to discover he’s familiar with Now Smell This.
Roudnitska’s — formerly his father's — office is up a marble staircase with art-lined walls. A tall window on the landing looks out to the Japanese garden. Next to the office is a sheltered deck lined with planters of flowers and small shrubs. From its edge I saw hills rolling down to Grasse and the Mediterranean in the far distance. (Roudnitska, perhaps suspicious of my silence, asked, "Vous parlez français?" Thankfully, my comprehension is decent, even if I speak and write French poorly.)
The high-ceilinged, spacious office has an equally stunning view. Its bank of windows had heated up the room, so Roudnitska slid one open a crack. I greedily soaked up the atmosphere. A medium-light wood paneling forms a 1950s deco pattern on the walls, and a built-in desk of the same wood occupies one corner. Matching cabinets and shelves run along an adjacent wall. Another goddess bust and bottles of Michel Roudnitska’s work stand on the top of one credenza-height shelf, but the wall above it is nude of art, presumably to act as a screen for the wall-mounted projector on the other side of the room. Whoever designed the room had a keen eye for warm, elegant, and slightly unconventional style.
We sat in a corner grouping of armchairs and couches, and Roudnitska told us about a fragrance, Invocation Miwahïmoon, he recently created for Blue Eagle Invocation, a Canadian company. (He has the charmingly boyish habit of sucking in a quick breath between strings of sentences.) The fragrance is all natural and marketed as a “feminine liquid smudge” to promote wellbeing. Roudnitska worked with First Nation shamans to identify essences associated with clarity, harmony, and other beneficial energies. Rather than simply dumping them in a bottle and using them medicinally as a shaman might, he choreographed their blending with a perfumer’s sensibility. He said because of IFRA restrictions, the fragrance will have limited availability. (Capsule review: Miwahïmoon smells soft, full-bodied, and citrus-herbal-balsamic.)
As Roudnitska talked, my gaze traveled to a black-and-white framed photo behind his head. It looked like Edmond Roudnitska and a crew-cut boy (Michel?) on Sainte Blanche’s bleak hillside before its gardens were planted. So much life — and perfume — yet to come.
Another post gone, and I still have more to report on France…
1. Sadly, it was also the first fragrance I ever swapped. I kick myself for it regularly. Dumb dumb dumb.
2. Another landscape note, but not of Cabris: I’m writing this from the terrace of a house in a village perché in Languedoc, France. I just heard — no joke — a cuckoo bird singing somewhere in the hills. A freakin’ cuckoo. And here I thought they were the invention of Bavarian clock makers.
Oh my, oh my! Thank you for sharing another part of that journey. I think it must’ve been really excited to meet a son of Edmond Roudnitska, this is so fulfilling for us, perfumistas.
If I ever had a chance to meet and talk with Daniela Andrier or Miuccia Prada in person, after the meeting I would say “I met my true idol, now I can die peacefully.”
It was a really wonderful day, and I do feel lucky. But I’m sure not ready to die yet!
I’m not ready for that either! So many perfume are still waiting for me there.
So true!
Angela – reading your posts is almost as good as being there! Please keep writing; I feel just like I am there in Languedoc as well.
I wish you WERE here! I’m glad you’re enjoying the posts.
C’est magnifique mon amie!!
I wish you were here, too! Although it has been blowing and storming all night. Kind of dramatic.
How wonderful, Angela and thank you for sharing your journey with us. Has the weather warmed up in the South of France yet? It’s not long before I visit for my annual vacance. Cuckoos? What a treat! We get those noisy cicadas in the summer! I look forward to more from your adventure next week.
The weather here has been tempestuous. The sun is often out, but the wind can whip up the valley and add a chill. But nights there are so many stars…
Thank you for another glimpse of Cabris, Angela! I was smiling at your cuckoo bird comment. They’re very common in Eastern Europe, and a slightly morbid folk custom upon hearing their call is to ask “Cuckoo bird, how many years do I have left to live?” Then the number of calls is traditionally thought to indicate the number of years. But all the same, a call of a cuckoo bird is a nostalgic and sweet reminder of languorous days of summer for me.
Those cuckoos do cuckoo for a long, long time! Someone here told me it’s a sign summer is coming. I’ve never heard them before in real life.
I once stayed in a Swiss campground when I was very tired and desperately needed sleep. I found myself in the middle of a cuckoo convention. It was charming for the first few minutes, but the calls continued — it seemed their clock never wound down, never, never.
Isn’t it amazing how long they can go on? I couldn’t believe it! In fact, I didn’t believe they were actual cuckoos until I checked with a bird book and a neighbor.
I’m loving all the talk about the cuckoos. I’m reminded of the mockingbirds here and how they sometimes sing right through a summer’s night. I love them, but it can get old, LOL.
Oh, Haunani, I love mockingbirds – the jazz musicians of the bird world!
Besides cuckoos, I’ve heard all sorts of birdsong here I don’t recognize. I wish I knew more about birds, really.
Nozknoz, what a great description of mockingbirds!
I’m right there with Nosknoz – I LOVE mockingbirds.
Cornlily, oh, I can sympathize! As sweet as cuckoos are in small doses, during the mating season they are unbearable. We had a colony of them near my old home, and in the spring, it was like staying inside a Bavarian clock factory.
What a lovely post. I spent a year in the South of France in the mid-eighties. I just love the country.
It must have been absolutely wonderful to visit Cabris, and meet Roudnitska Jr. And what a pity about the Noir Epices. It has been on my wish list for a while. I adore what he has done for Delrae, and own those except for Eau Illuminée.
Enjoy Languedoc! Had anymore interesting marriage proposals since the one last week?
I did get an “interesting” invitation from a bony writer who calls himself Tony but spells it “Toony.” Given the choice, I’d go for the 87-year old egg vendor, M. Garcia.
I would too. Toony sounds a bit shady. Have lots of fun!
Absolutely shady. I got a couple of solid warnings against him. Meanwhile the elderly gent has good stories about the maquis.
What a wonderful post, Angela.I am so enjoying hearing of your experiences in the South of France that I can only imagine what a thrill it is to actually be in the famous Roudnitska garden! You are defininitely making me crave another break in France…
It was wonderful! I wish you could be here, too.
Angie, thanks for taking me back to that wonderful day — all the more wonderful for being in your company. It’s a lovely experience to see the place I wrote about, and have gotten to know, through the eyes of another writer. I’m glad you could share it with everyone here.
I’m so grateful you arranged it and were a part of it! I’ll never see another white Audi again without peeking inside to see if it’s Jacques Cavallier….
What a lovely post! No travel for me for a while, so I’m enjoying this vicariously. Hope the rest of your trip is equally as magical as this first part!
The rest of the trip so far has been wonderful. Part of me wants to be busy and try to squeeze a lot out of it, and another part wants to luxuriate in the extended time off with lots of reading and naps. Having this time reminds me how important it is to break out of old routines.
Once again, you’ve brought us along on your journey. Your description of your meeting with Michel Roudnitska brought goosebumps to my arms — you were in the presence of greatness!
My imagination is fervid enough that I kind of psyched myself out for a second imagining Edmond Roudnitska’s ghost hovering near his desk while I was there.
So wonderful seeing this through your discerning eyes, Angela!
And thanks for the link to the Blue Eagle Invocation perfume – I’m intrigued and will see if I can add it to my nascent well-being collection (which currently consists of Via del Profumo’s Lake Blossom and some soliflores).
Enjoy the rest of your trip!
I put some on a cotton ball in my room at the retreat, and every once in a while I catch of whiff of it. My wellbeing is pretty solid right now!
Thrilled to read more about this trip, and am enjoying it vicariously! Thanks for sharing it.
I’m glad you’re enjoying it!
Thanks again for sharing your wonderful day Angela . 🙂 I really have enjoyed reading your posts.
I’m glad you’ve enjoyed them! I do worry about their being a boring travelogue. I can’t tell you, though, how marvelous it is for me to have all this time away from home to reboot. I wish everyone could do it at least once in their adult lives.
“Boring”? – absolutely NOT!
I’m glad you don’t think so!
Hey, that Invocation is exactly, but EXACTLY my Fumée Incredible entrance to the Eaux Faux contest – and it did not even make the final cut 🙁 🙁 🙁
Now I’m upset all over again.
Oh Angela, I expected to be delighted by your post as always and now I am soooooo sad …. 🙁
Clearly, the Eau Faux contest is WAY below your abilities! You need to be writing real perfume copy for real companies! I think you should take this as an encouraging sign for your talent.
Angela, I did write copy at some point but ended up bored by mere copywriting. For the Eaux Faux though, contestants do much more than a copywriter: they create – albeit mentally – the product, too …
At least I imagined a fragrance I’d like to wear and wrote the copy afterwards. The style was humorous but respectful, because no matter how much I took the mickey out of it, the notes were wearable and desirable.
So maybe your talents lie more toward actual perfume development…