Curating The Curators

The Bookworm

 

“And when the queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon…she came to prove him with hard questions…And she gave the king an hundred and twenty talents of gold, and of spices very great store, and precious stones: there came no more such abundance of spices as these which the queen of Sheba gave to king Solomon ..” ¤

So we see that both Balkis, Queen of Sheba and Solomon the Great were early curators and collectors of perfumes: maybe the first of their type actually recorded. The Book of Kings goes on to mention Solomon’s unique hoard of precious almug  – probably red sandalwood – from which were carved divinely scented pillars for the great Temple at Jerusalem. “There came no such almug trees, nor were seen unto this day.” ¤¤

Nowadays we are all curators. Curating is what they call a sexy – if lazy –  concept: it has come to mean whatever you want it mean. The word “curate” (both the noun and the verb) derive from the Latin root ‘cura’ – ‘care’. When I was a little boy the word made me somewhat wary. I didn’t like the look of it, written down. It had a hardness to it; and of course it also had a medical association. The cure of patients and the cure of souls. Hence those flocks of curates in church circles – those strange unfledged semi-vicars, as they seemed to a child. Then, curates still had an air that was partially sinister and partially foolish¤¤¤. And of course I found it hard to differentiate the word ‘curate’ from that infallibly deadly poison – ‘curare’ – which supposedly tipped the arrows of Amazonian savages. Then there were those vague and alarming – though usually unseen – curators in museums. “The Curator will have you!” was almost as powerful a threat as that of the Policeman coming to get you or – in public gardens – the “Parky”.

I would say that we at Les Senteurs curate our perfumes in the true sense. We select, display, preserve and care for them. We may choose to edit judiciously certain brands from time to time, just as the Man at the Museum relegates the stuffed polar bear to the basement for a spell and replaces him with a Meissen monkey orchestra. We protect, clean, promote and exhibit our scents to their best advantage. Like guardians of antique fabrics or paintings we try to protect fragrances from excessive illumination, but unlike an art gallery we are keen on the hands-on approach. All our hundreds of scents have a tester bottle and that tester is there to be sprayed. So come on in and have a go. Benefit from our curation to build your own collection.

For collecting is quite a different thing.
Speaking only for myself, collecting is haphazardly amassing. In my old Dutch Booke of Magicke¤¤¤¤ I read a most accurate and disconcerting insight into my astrological traits. Folk born on my day are “…generally open to less conventional art forms, diversions and entertainments…they are often art or antique collectors with an eye for those apparently ordinary items from bottle caps to brass door knobs..” My father, also an Aries, left behind boxes of crab & scallop shells, pipe cleaners and feathers.

My own collection of perfumes, by virtue of my being in the business for so long, is extensive but rambling. The current bottles are decently stored, in that I keep them in the dark, well padded and at a pretty constant temperature. Empty flacons are moved on to a somewhat primitive Cabinet of Curiosities where they sit alongside grit from the Valley of the Kings and a dried rose from Samarkand.  But I am not one for ordering, labelling and precise regimentation. I love the idea of all that – I admire it –  but in practice I like to be fooling around with my treasures; having them about me like toys and talismans. I like them portable and accessible. I like them “live”. Also, I am messy.

People are kind enough to show me wonderful exuberant photos of their own perfume collections. Here one sees literally hundreds – often thousands – of filled bottles, heaped up before mirrors or on glass tables like the treasures of King Solomon’s mines or the contents of the late Queen Mary’s Faberge vitrine. “Stuff it all in!” as my dear friend Felicia used to say.  I feel these collectors have the right spirit. Perfume may be a form of poetry but it’s got to be poetry in motion. A working collection is the right collection. Perfumes cannot be pinned to boards like poor dried bees or butterflies.

It’s rather like that other modern craze: that of tracing your ancestors. Some do this as an academic mathematical exercise. Others are primarily interested in the characters, individuals and human oddiities they unearth: the magic and mystery of the ever-developing gene pool.

And so with fragrance. A great part of its fascination lies in how each perfume relates to another: how the perfume families first defined over a century ago grow increasingly diffuse and more elaborately defined. Amazing hybrids and mutations appear as off-shoots but the great pure-blooded ancestors still stand in the background, albeit face-lifted, dieted and genetically modified. The good curator and the devoted collector know that the essence of perfume is just that: using it and smelling it. As for instruction, let the fragrance speak for itself.

¤ 1 Kings, 10. Passim.

¤¤ I also remember ‘La reine de Saba’ tea rooms in the shadows of Chartres Cathedral, decades ago: scented with madeleines, saffron buns, ginger bread,  fine teas – and, of course, the eponymous cakes.

¤¤¤ from Charlotte Bronte – and Mr Punch’s notorious egg – to Enid Blyton.

¤¤¤¤ THE SECRET LANGUAGE OF BIRTHDAYS by Goldschneider and Elffers, Viking Penguin 1994.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s