Breath of God by Gorilla Perfume – Review

Foreword

I have to lay out some important thoughts here. When I started Personal Odour, it was a way for me to practice my writing, my thinking and recording of everyday and personal odours around me. For a long time before that my passion was, and still is perfume. It’s so hard to describe to someone who doesn’t feel so moved by all things olfactory—to appreciate the varying degrees of one type of smell, through to the utter complexity of a perfume.

I hesitated for a while before starting to include perfume writing of any form in Personal Odour. It is a topic I feel so connected to, so into, yet, sometimes so far removed from. I don’t always understand all the French—or even able to pronounce it. I’m not up with all the industry developments, the who’s who and what not. Sometimes I don’t even care for all the goings on and announcements and releases and flankers and wave upon wave of advertising.

If I’m truthfully honest, I don’t always get impressions, notes and ingredients so many other perfume lovers do when they smell their cherished juices and write about them.

You can see where my hesitation in perfume reviewing comes from.

Breath of God

Where do I start with Breath of God? I first smelled it in 29 High Street, Poole in the autumn of 2008. I was in the then B Never Too Busy To Be Beautiful shop and was sniffing away at just about everything. Low and behold that I should smell Breath of God then and there because I was absolutely, without a doubt, mesmerized. Never had I smelled something so unusual, so captivating, so reminiscent of a place in time I can actually call from.

I bought the 10ml atomizer on the spot and I’ve never been without a bottle or few of it in my wardrobe.

Over the years I have worn Breath of God, a perfume I feel suits me so perfectly, time and time again. It never tires on me, it never grows old. I really dislike the over-use of the word “classic,” but it so is. It makes me feel assured, confident, heck even mysterious and aloof. It’s seen me through nights out, and nights in, job interviews and casual days at work. In the summer months it has an incredible vibrancy and silage. And in the winter, it is cool, collected and ethereal.

You don’t need me to tell you either if you are a perfumista of sorts, that it is a five-star fragrance from Luca Turin of Perfumes: The Guide. Not that one man’s seal of approval is the defining benchmark, but if I were Simon Constantine, the perfumer, I’d be pretty damn proud. On the flip-side the opposite is true, a seal of approval from Luca Turin is sure to be a defining benchmark!

With notes of Rose, Grapefruit, Black Pepper, Sandalwood, Cade, Vetiver and Neroli, Breath of God is a mixture of sorts—fruity, spicy, smoky and softly floral. It really does mix things up and I’ve known a few people to say when they wear it that it is a total chameleon of a fragrance. Personally, on me, I find it plays up the smoky Cade, Vetiver and Black Pepper card. Even in my first impressions on it, those altered, other-worldly top notes of Grapefruit and Lemon are obvious too but in a more abstract manner. They’re presented as I said, altered and that’s what I really like about Breath of God. It is a presented, altered impression of pheromones, of temples and distant grasslands.

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What do you think?

Have you had the heavenly experience of smelling Breath of God? Has it left you contemplating? Have you been impressed by the thoughts of smoky temples or fresh grasslands? Or, have you felt a bit of an atheist towards it?

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Olfactory Slump

It seems I’m on a bigger fragrance and olfactory slump than I’d like to be. Lately, I feel like I’ve smelled all the smells I possibly can. I pass my usual spots, that first fresh whiff of morning air, the hedges, the people on the luas, their breath, their perfume, their clothes. In town I pass the coffee shops, the pastries, the sweet breads. Then, I take a left pass the church and sometimes smell incense. I take a right then smell onion-like odours from a prep-kitchen. The TCP at the bottom of an alley. Thrown in the mix are cigarettes, car fumes, buses, concrete and street cleaners. I can’t afford to buy any more essential oils to practice and tinker with, let alone splash out on any new perfume. Sometimes I go to the department stores, sniff around, feel bored and walk out.

So what’s a guy to do?

No seriously, what am I to do? I’m not updating my scent diary, I’m feeling a little apathetic towards anything perfume related. Like I’ve been held back and not been able to let go and jump into a world I’m craving. A world I’d be damn good at.

Yes, read between the lines—this is all reading a little heartfelt.

If a Bear Shits In The Wood

Since the start of the week I’ve been making a concious decision to abstain from smelling odours. Call it a retreat, running away, stuffing corks up my nostrils—I needed to switch off for a while and disengage, if just for a few days. It all happened when I got tired of the smells by over doing it for two months solid. Over-aware, over-seeking, not necessarily overly-applying either, I was wearing perfume every day.

Scented Philosophy

I’m actually doing a lot better than I thought given that I’ve been so switched on by odours for a while now. It’s tricky, trying to actively not take notice. Yes it sounds obvious as I’m sure everyone turns off tuning-in to their senses: we don’t make an effort to listen, sometimes we look around the world and not pay that much attention, we only taste when we eat or drink and I wouldn’t say we feel on an active level either—all of these are pretty broad statements to make. I’m talking about this as if you were walking to work, or sitting in the park with a friend. When it comes to smell, it too can just go by us. Smell in the air can be full of things, restaurants’ bread, garlic, meat and vegetables can fill the street. A stroll in a forest can be rife with pine, heavy undergrowth, maybe a turd or two! And smell, like the other senses can instantly be the thing that makes us shake our heads, and look around, “Just what was that?” “Was something burning?” “I stood in the shit didn’t I?”

I started thinking today about forests and odours, and then I remembered that riddle:

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

The exact same principle can be applied to odours. Does a bear shit in the woods? Yes, and if no one is around to smell it, does it make a stink? The question entered my head as soon as I was able to answer it and it made me laugh that smell can be applied in this same philosophical sense.

Infinite Odours

Then of course, my mind started to wander to other thoughts. I wonder how many smells there are RIGHT NOW that aren’t being smelled. Think about it, the number of odours being given off by flowers, trees, animals, humans, the sea, the land, the cars, the volcanoes, the mountains and snow, the jungles and rivers, the fish, the jaguar and the mouse, the air we breath in the ocean before it reaches us, the abandoned buildings and mouldy hallways, undiscovered temples and canopic jars, the books and chests in Parisian lofts and basements in New York smelling damp. What about perfume, all the odours sealed away in their coffins never to be found, at the bottom of the ocean, or the odours of bottles never opened, sealed in their packaging by an avid collector, never to be loved, never to be appreciated. There must be a shit-load of odours that we don’t even know of. And along comes a perfumer and nearly invents a new one…

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What do you think?

Have you ever wondered about the infinitely vast amount of smells that HAVE to exist? Looking up at the stars, the same rules must be applied to odours, what smell is bound to exist, somewhere?

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Tired of the Smells

So it was bound to happen sooner or later, olfactory fatigue! I think I’ve just been over-doing it if that was ever possible. Every day for the last two months solid I’ve been jotting down smells, recording odours and logging memories. Where possible I’d also be sniffing out perfume wherever and whenever I can. Like any blogger too I’ve been busy keeping Personal Odour ticking over, adding new features and engaging in some fantastic discussion.

Armani, it’s all your fault

I noticed it just this weekend past that staying focused for a great length of time would ware me out. Sniffing out Armani’s Privé collection did it. The juice? Oud Royal. A new fragrance to me as I’d never smelled a perfume like it before. So exotic, so distant and so new, until it reminded me of the dentist—his gloves, and the smell of the gas mask I can vividly remember in my mind. It was astringent, not surgical. Antiseptic a little and reminiscent of mass too thanks to something that is either frankincense, or similar to it.

I may not be able to list all the odours I can identify in Oud Royal, but it was a beautiful fragrance either way. I also know that any bottle on the shelf without a price tag is not worth asking for as I fell into that trap once before in Harrods. Then again, what was I expecting!

Something, something, something

So where do I go from here? Just because I’m a little more tired than usual I stop here? Was smelling Oud Roayal, whilst beautiful, not enough? True, I really did love the fragrance, but I simply smiled and walked out of the store. Wanting it, but not leaving my heart racing like a hundred other fragrances before it, I was a little confused.

I know this might read really, really sappy right now, but it’s the truth. I also feel that by writing and sharing this, I’m somehow putting my head on the block. My impression of the online perfume community is a thriving, non-stop smelling extravaganza where there is always something new, something incredible, something rare, something natural, something synthetic, some new release, some new event, some new post, someone’s review, some offer, some new feed, some impression, some sharing, some samples, something… Something exhausting. By posting this I’m of course adding to a noisy cacophony. Nature of the beast and all that ;)

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What do you think?

Have you had times when you’ve been unimpressed with smelling things? Has perfume ever made you just roll your eyes and walk on? What do you do about it? Be honest.

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Odd Odour-Memory Connections, Part 1

It’s obvious isn’t it? A smell linking to a memory. We’re all built this way, in the brain’s limbic system. It’s what’s called a “conditional response.” When an instance of one thing sets off a response of another. I’m sounding very knowledgeable on the topic but understanding and reading up about this process is really intriguing.

I can understand memory through association, obvious ones such as warm, spicy cinnamon reminding most in the western world of Christmas. Or even the smell of freshly mown grass—memories of endless childhoods in the summer. Maybe sulphur takes people back to Hallowe’en? The sparklers, the fireworks, maybe a bonfire too!

So why is it that when I smell something seemingly so normal, it sets off the most random memory?

Oddity A

Last weekend I was walking through the town and some very familiar smells went by me, freshly frying chips, salt, pungent vinegar and oddly, a floral perfume in the mix. BAM! There it was, playing Sonic the Hedgehog aged 9 with my friend in his house. Where, just, where did that one come out of? I wasn’t even thinking of my friend at the time, or my childhood, or even Sonic!

I get it that the reason these memories are fired off is because our brain was logging this memory against the odour—for some future event I’d need to recall it, but you know, it’s just so random and arbitrary. The day I was playing Sonic wasn’t an overly significant day. Not like my brain was setting me up for knowing that something burning means danger, or something sour means, “Don’t eat.”

This is the essence of what fascinates me, that my brain would associate some mixture of chips, salt & vinegar and perfume into Sonic the Hedgehog and my friend.

Oddity B

In the middle of last month I was on my way home from work and a girl sat down on the seat in front of me. She was carrying her own odour. It wasn’t even apparent what it was. I don’t think she was even wearing perfume, and on the off-chance that she was, it was incredibly faint. But whatever odour she was giving off, it reminded me of the times I used to go camping a few years ago or travelling with a friend.

I had a hundred-and-one memories fighting for my attention, the camping trips to the north coast of Northern Ireland and the fresh sea air (not salty air either), of the alcohol gel—waterless soap, of plastic canvas from the tent, of the hostels I stayed in abroad, of the backpacks I carried and how the smell of clothes within would mix with the fabric. None of these memories made any sense to me, this girl wasn’t carrying a tent, a bag, a hostel and the sea with her, but whatever that smell was, I’ll never know.

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What do you think?

Are there any particular odours that have made you think of the most random of things? Has the smell of a park done something odd to you? Or, has the smell of food brought back the weirdest memory?

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Warring Scents

As I often wonder about smell and what it means to me, I sometimes realise what’s considered acceptable for you, might not necessarily be the same for me. This of course works both ways and on different levels of smell appreciation.

It also goes without saying, these self-discoveries can seem so obvious and apparent on the surface. And when I do discover them, I’ll suffer a massive AH-HA moment like I’d just invented the light-bulb. When in actual fact, discovering these things can be a very enlightening experience. It can lead to things you never thought about yourself.

Lavender vs Rose

Most people know that lavender is a relaxing and calming odour, often seen in bubble bath and room sprays. Sometimes I’ve seen its form in microwavable pillows and other times, bought freshly cut, to display in your home. In any case I wouldn’t argue with research done into the aromatherapeutic qualities of this material, or the many centuries of use it has as a cleansing ingredient too.

What I notice not about lavender, I notice in rose. One night as I was tinkering and experimenting with my essential oils, I opened up a freshly bought vial of Rose Absolute. That first whiff (whilst a diluted oil) was that it was incredibly soothing. I had a wave of calmness take over me and I sniffed and re-sniffed the bottle a number of times over. Each time the lusciousness and richness registered with me, I felt very peaceful and relaxed.

I wonder why lavender is considered the major player in sedative ingredients? If I find rose relaxing just as much as someone finds lavender relaxing, why is there a standard defining the opposite?

Maybe it’s an unconscious effort. My brain might find lavender relaxing but my self doesn’t.

Paella vs Roast

The other day I was talking to a friend about his home in Spain. And naturally food came up in the conversation. He said to me that paella reminds him of home. And now living in Ireland, if he were to smell paella it would not only remind him of home, but even remind him of any given Sunday.

When I heard it I never thought that the smell of food could remind some one of a day of the week. How cool that no matter what day of the week it is, the smell of the seafood, or rabbit or chicken paella would remind him of Sundays or home. A nice way to time travel so-to-speak!

For me, I said that it has to be a Sunday roast. All the smells that would fill up the kitchen or the rest of the house are just engrained in me. It can be the smell of the beef being put into the slow cooker at around 9-10am. And by eleven it’s this half raw, half cooked odour. When you lift the lid off and the strong damp steam fills your nose it’s just one of those hmmm moments. There’s even the smell of the vegetables steaming over the potatoes, or the roasties in the oven, crisping as they oil and fat heats up.

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What do you think?

Are there any particular odours you find would be at war with each other? Does the smell of fresh, ripe vegetables compete with that of a greasy, cheesy pizza? Or, would the smell of one perfume far outweigh that of another?

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