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Al-Ahram Weekly On-line 28 Sep. - 4 Oct. 2000 Issue No. 501 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly On-line 28 Sep. - 4 Oct. 2000 Issue No. 501
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Elections Region International Economy Opinion Culture Special Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters
Genie in a bottle
By Tanya Goudsouzian
"Nyaoo, nyaoo, nyaoo, nyaoo..." went the lyrics of an eerie melody echoing through the jagged rocks of the Red Sea shoreline. Three nymph-like girls wearing iridescent algae-green dresses flitted across the torch-lit amphitheatre, strewing scented petals on the sand, marking a path to the desired location. A silver-haired gentleman appeared behind them. Enchanted, he followed the trail leading not to the foamy sea, but to a podium set up complete with audio equipment.
"We are the best at what we do, and we do only what we do best," said Jean-Paul Guerlain, who comes from a long line of parfumiers and whose products, he says, are a world apart from the slew of fancy bottles lining department store cosmetics counters. His remark was aimed at those couturiers who venture into his domain with the help of third party "chemists."
A large number of media representatives from the Middle East's most important publications were invited to sojourn at the idyllic Ritz Carlton in Sharm Al-Sheikh from 16 to 19 September, where they were to be the first to sample the most beguiling of Guerlain fragrances, or so they were told. This latest fragrance has been christened Mahora, a loose reference to Moyotte, an Indian Ocean island off the southeastern coast of Africa and the only one of the Comoros archipelago that opted to remain a French territory.
The legend behind the new fragrance reflects the modern age -- man's search for fantasy, as science and technology are leaving less and less to the imagination. So imagine a Frenchman, a traveller, whose avid curiosity and thirst for knowledge take him East and further East, in search of a new world, "not realising that it was already living deep within him, shaping and guiding his vision." There, he discovers lush vegetation and "the fertility of life... around him." There, "he pondered the significance of Creation."
And there is also a woman, as there has always been behind every perfume concocted by the man responsible for such high-end scents as Nahema (1979) and Samsara (1989). French actress Catherine Deneuve was not merely an inspiration, but a muse in the making of Nahema. Guerlain had fallen in love with her en cachette after seeing one of her films and wanted to give her his greatest gift, prompting the actress to say, "When I go out, I wear Saint-Laurent, when I return, I wear Guerlain." It is a gracious homage to a man whose love for her was never consummated, and remained, quite literally, a message in a bottle. The woman behind Mahora, explained Guerlain, is the same woman behind Samsara, "who grew tired of smelling it in airports, in shopping centres, on streets, on everyone..." She asked Guerlain to make her something new. And Guerlain delivered.
Sylvaine Delacourte gives press folk a crash course on the art of perfume-making.
Contained in a bottle that suggests druid's potion rather than haute-gamme perfume, Mahora is by all accounts a spellbinding scent -- not recommended for office wear. Perhaps it is best worn on a nature excursion in Moyotte or on the crowded streets of Cairo, where one will find herself in competition with overwhelming local smells. Mahora is a massive bouquet of tuberose, frangipani, neroli, vetiver, vanilla, sandalwood, ylang-ylang and jasmine. The latter, pointed out Guerlain, is a flower he purchases in great quantities from Egypt, where he feels it is of optimum quality.
"Price is never an issue when Guerlain goes shopping around the world for his natural substances," said one of his PR executives. "He looks only at quality." Guerlain's nose for such quality scents has been honed since the tender age of 17, when his grandfather Jacques Guerlain took him under his wing at the factory. Four years later, young Jean-Paul came up with Vetiver.
The press corps consisted mostly of francophone Arabs, from Beirut, Cairo, Dubai, Jordan, Oman, Paris and Saudi Arabia. The few who did not speak the "language of love" were provided with an Arabic interpreter. The even smaller constituency who spoke neither of the two languages were a little inconvenienced. But the fringe benefits -- "ritzy" suite, yacht day trip and snorkeling facilities -- proved to be adequate consolation.
"I have met many of you by now," said Guerlain, addressing the tanned and evidently well-rested journalists seated on the amphitheatre's rocky seats. "And while most of you asked very intelligent questions, I have come to realise that Guerlain -- and what it stands for -- is not as well known as it should be in this region." The Frenchman's lamentation does have just cause. The new generation, slathered in CK, Versace, Boss or Hilfiger, may not fully appreciate the merits of a perfume composed of roughly 80 per cent natural substances and one that can trace its origins back some 150 years, when the first Monsieur Guerlain catered to the likes of Empress Eugénie. It is a firm that has not nabbed the loyalty of generation X-ers so much as it did their grandmothers', whose wardrobes invariably smelled of Shalimar. The mission with which these press folk were entrusted was to spread the word.
First, however, it was deemed necessary to ensure the press folk themselves understood the word. The Guerlain group organised a workshop conducted by perfume expert Sylvaine Delacourte. In her capacity as "la narine droite de Guerlain" (Guerlain's right nostril), Delacourte gave the assembled few a crash course in the art of perfume-making -- a whiff of tuberose essence, a sniff of ylang-ylang and a breeze through a wide variety of dried roots and resins and how each one combines with another to produce a unique effect. She indicated that men, in general, make good parfumiers because of their steady sense of smell. "While women can also excel, their sense of smell is less steady due to hormonal fluctuations," she added. Delacourte engaged the participants in an experiment, whereby they would create their own perfumes, but strongly advised them to dismiss any grand dreams of entering the perfume business on the basis of this brush with perfumery. The exercise was simply to demonstrate the complexity of the art and the precision it demands. Following the workshop, nausea took hold of most participants, a testament to the idea that olfactory nerves cannot tolerate a haphazard combination of different scents.
On the sidelines of the launch of Mahora, Guerlain presented a new line of cosmetics called Divinora. Each product in the range permits skin to shimmer like gold. Previous Guerlain cosmetic lines included Météorites, "a shower of heavenly light," and Terracotta, "an ode to the sun." Divinora is a break from conventions past, when women packed their faces with talc or other powders to absorb oil and prevent shine. Divinora prescribes a semi-matt finish foundation allowing the natural glow of the skin to shine through. It recommends a second product called Liquid Radiance, which can be "applied to the forehead, cheekbones and décolleté to add a golden gleam to your foundation," said Olivier Echaudemaison, creative colour adviser for Guerlain.
By the end of the three-day seminar, the female members of the pack had in their possessions the much-anticipated échantillons. Of course, within moments, each one had tried them on to see whether the products would look as terrific in real life as they did on that detestable model featured on the advertisements. The results, for the most part, were satisfactory. But much like the Frenchman, these ladies, too, harbour a fantasy. Smelling of Moyotte and gleaming like pagan statues, they await the final over-the-counter product from Guerlain that would perfect the results: The Divinora Airbrush.
