Perfumed Offerings (An Excerpt from The Book of Perfume by Elisabeth Barillé and Catherine Laroze)

The ecstasy of love is not very far removed from religious ardor and fragrant wreaths of smoke in sacred rituals often help us to bridge the gap between the two. Since the Dark Ages, places of worship have been infused with various fragrances from odorous woods, balms and various essences intended to call upon the favor of the gods with their subtle fragrances. Cypress and cedarwood were burned in the temples of Mesopotamia, while the smell of incense and rancid butter hangs in Tibetan monasteries. In India, the air in sacred places is thick with the scent of the sandalwood from which the holy statues are carved, and the lotus flower unfolds its fragrant petals at Buddha's feet. Rose and musk essences are enshrined in the heart of mosques, while aromatic, peppery basil haunts Orthodox places of worship. Incense, whose purpose, according to Michel de Montaigne, was "to delight, arouse and purify the senses in order to make us more fit for contemplation," clouds the naves of cathedrals.

The lily and the rose, both sacred flowers, adorn alters dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The pure bodies of saints, having renounced earthly pleasures, join the mystic, floral procession, exhaling the pure and spiritual odors of sanctity. The odor of sanctity is not simply a figure of rhetoric: to combat the noxious emanations of the devil, the bodes of saints are transformed into divine censers. Saint Catherine of Ricci smells of violets, Saint Rose of Viterbus of roses and Saint Lydwine of Schiedam and Saint Thomas Aquinas of Incense. Odors reflect the most intimate changes in our being and it is said that when a woman entered the confessional the pious priest of Ars knew whether she maintained an "odor of chastity."

"The twenty-first century will be religious or will not be," declared André Malraux. What will perfumes be like? Will they transform us into odorous cloisters or celestial bouquets? It is possible that perfumes help to uplift our souls. As for the perfumers, they amuse themselves by treading the borderline between the sacred and the profane. Jean-Paul Guerlain paved the way for the third millennium when he made Samsara into a heavenly garden planted with sandalwood and jasmine, or, as the publicity says, "A few drops of Samsara, a few drops of eternity." Sacred perfumes conjure up mysterious somber rituals, burnished gold and powerful divinities. The Caron perfumers, who were interested in scented rituals, introduced essence of hood, a sacred Indian tree venerated by Muslims, into their perfume Yatagan, For Parfum Sacré, they created a bouquet of rose macerated in musks and spices, like a vibrant offering in the cool shade of a crypt. 

"Sacred the fragrance that enrobes her flesh," wrote Charles Baudelaire. Transparency, purity and eternity are themes which haunt many perfumes today. Eau du Ciel by Annick Goutal is a delicate balm made from essence of hay and beeswax. Eternity by Calvin Klein has a virginal transparency with the merest suggestion of a rose fragrance. Shisedo's Féminité du Bois, radiating dry, sparkling cedarwood, invokes an atmosphere of calm and serneity. Wandering along the frontiers of paradise lost, one dreams that its doors will be opened by Chacherel's Eden, whose fragrance conjures up a garden where the sacred lotus flower blooms.

On the path towards these odorous Elysian Fields, we may not gain in sanctity, but at least our appeased souls will imagine that they are finally acceding to the center of the mystic rose celebrated by Dante. 

An Excerpt from The Book of Perfume by Elisabeth Barillé and Catherine Laroze