I took a hiatus of a few months to sit back, give my burnt-out nose a rest and regain objectivity. Going back to the perfumes after this break has given me new insights into what I have been up to.

Happily, six out of seven of my perfumes were just right: Musk, distinctly animalic, very strong; Sandalwood, fresh, with strong hints of vetiver; Oud, as oudy as ever with its undertones of rutting animals; and Amber, even more intense than I had remembered it. Green Iris is hard to resist—it makes you want to take a swig--but I made a few tweaks to increase longevity. Ambergris opens like an oyster, but after a minute, a deep marine aspect rises up from seaweed and oarweed absolutes. I’m still delighted with it.

Magnolia, while inviting, richly floral, and complex with a slight note of decay so typical of magnolia, had a problem. Fifteen minutes after putting it on, it became sickly sweet and started to cloy. It needs something bitter, austere and possibly marine. A stiff dose of cedramber and maybe some calone will hopefully do the trick. For the time being I’m no longer offering it.

As much as I continue to revel in BPC’s eaux fraîches, they cost too much to make. I have a small stock of each, but when that’s gone, that will be that. I used pure drinking alcohol when I could have used a cheaper version of ethanol. Vetiver Eau Fraîche contains nothing but ethyl alcohol and Ruh Khus, an Indian green vetiver that is now so expensive I can no longer afford to use it in any fragrance. Neroli Eau Fraîche is made with real neroli (at $450/ounce), distilled from orange blossoms, not what everyone else uses, petitgrain, made from branches.

I would be less than candid if I didn’t admit to being somewhat discouraged. The art is changing and many lovely substances that drew me into perfumery are now forbidden. The International Fragrance Association (IFRA) and the EU dictate what’s allowed and in what amounts. The restrictions have become so onerous that classic fundamental ingredients such as many essential oils and oakmoss are now no longer permitted. How does one make a chypre without oakmoss? Now, there is discussion of banning all essential oils, meaning that virtually all perfumes will be synthetic. Many synthetics are also now prohibited, including one of my favorites, nonadienol, which I used as a green note. Then there are those substances that, being precursors to various illegal drugs, are no longer sold. No more heliotropin (except at perfumeexplorations.com) or benzyl phenylacetate.

While I have no objection to synthetics per se, and, in fact, rely on them for many different functions, my emphasis is on naturals. I don’t want to be restricted to the few synthetics that are neither taboo nor “captive.” “Captives” are aromatic molecules patented by perfume houses and available only to them. It is not difficult to see how IFRA’s (draconian?) rules and the availability of captives to large industrial perfume manufacturers and not to the rest of us, tilts the equation away from small niche perfume companies who are more likely to rely on the forbidden products.

The most profound question I’ve asked myself is: What is perfume? A perfume is not simply a mixture of good-smelling substances, even if the combination smells absolutely lovely. Might not BPC’s “Perfumes” be perfumes? They certainly have many of the characteristics of perfume. They can excite a lover or bring a room to life; they contain musks (artificial ones), ambergris, rare floral absolutes, sandalwood and even oud; they have an identity all their own. And yet.

Perfumery has followed a distinct path and, like all the arts, has its own dialectic such that we see identifiable trends, traditions, and styles. It has context, evolved over more than a century. Whether BPC’s fragrances are perfumes, depends upon where you draw the line, but, in any case, they are outsider art. They don’t conform to the rules of a distinct tradition. People sometimes describe them as “outside the box.” I have a friend in Paris who wore Amber one evening and most everyone at the gathering asked what she was wearing that smelled so good. I asked her why she doesn’t wear it more often, but she was either being overly polite or unsure herself.

Virtually anyone who makes perfumes claims that their perfumes draw the opposite (or same) sex. Modesty aside, three of my perfumes really are pheromonic and aphrodisiacal in a way I only perceive in vintage perfumes made with natural musk and/or civet. Musk, Oud, and Amber are distinctly sexual. One influential critic said there were two aphrodisiacs in his life: the smell of his wife and BPC’s Oud. Once, when wearing Musk, I was asked if I were wearing some kind of “attractant.” There were other commentaries about Amber, one woman commenting “if someone smelled like that, I’d wrap my thighs around him so fast…”

What I have realized, and have stated elsewhere, that having had rather extravagant expectations, I have too much stuff. So, I’m having a house cleaning of sorts to offer various rarities including tinctures, aroma chemicals, essential oils, absolutes, ouds and books. The tinctures will allow people to work with real ambergris, civet and castoreum. The ouds are extraordinary and comprise many of the great classics from Ensar Oud. Many of the books are rare and difficult to find. And, of course, I’m offering my own perfumes from Brooklyn Perfume Company.

The site, perfumeexplorations.com, has also offered me the opportunity to share this blog, originally written for Brooklyn Perfume Company.