Trayee

Neela Vermiere Trayee Before you read on, I must tell you that I am adding this paragraph last (chronologically speaking) having experienced her perfumes on the whole, and it is my opinion that Neela Vermiere’s creations, bought to life by the immensely talented Bertrand Duchaufour, are the closest representation of India in olfactory terms through the lens of French perfumery, nothing I tell you comes close to capturing the scent story of India. The intellectual conception, the perfumes themselves, and the beautiful presentation are to me, the most authentic representation of my dear motherland. The first spray of this is an utter explosion of gorgeously volatile top notes, there’s juicy blackcurrant and spiced cinnamon enveloped in an aromatic greenness from the cannabis (i.e. the ganja accord) and the basil, this greenness is important in that it doesn’t open too sweet, the zing in all this is the piercing (and mind you prominent) ginger which rounds the massive opening. I already know this I’m going to love, the elemi in the background is why this feels easier, I do not generally like elemi because to me it’s a rather ‘airy resin’, but here it's lemony and mildly smoky, and these facets are much appreciated. The density of this composition isn’t quite obvious right away, the composition of the heart of the fragrance is the sacred matrimony of my favourite spices, namely cardamom, clove and saffron, all of which find use extensively in the Indian culinary arts, both savoury and sweet alike. Here however the intention is to encase them in a well-knit orb of Jasmine sambac absolute (and Egyptian jasmine) and sandalwood. This sandalwood persists through the heart and forms a larger part of the base too. Neela’s brief to Bertrand was to spare no expense and create a tribute to the grandeur of India’s glorious Vedic past, and I believe with that in mind, the maestro has overdosed the whole composition with a dusty, spicy albeit lactonic Mysore sandalwood, a pleasure to the senses and a must for the connoisseur that looks for the best example of it in niche/artisanal perfumery, and it’s here in abundance to satiate your craving. The base is voluptuous, an amalgam of incense, patchouli, myrrh, vanilla, amber, oudh, oakmoss and the aforementioned Mysore sandalwood, also in this melange is two types of vetiver (Javanese and Haitian), which expresses itself as a kind of earthy freshness (?) that cuts through the unrestrained thickness of the other base notes. I will also reference the oudh oil used minutely here as a spectacular example wherein the mild woody depth of the oudh is only a small supporting character to the other notes, neither does it dominate the composition, nor is it obtrusive. It exists in the background as it should and for those that do not harmonise well with oudh, you have not one thing to worry about, it is used expertly here and will not be obvious to you if you don’t know what to look for. (My fervent side prayer, can we please start using oudh in moderation as one would another resin or something like oakmoss, just the way it has been used here, there is no need to flood just about every new release, that too with the same ‘medicinal oudh accord’, the novelty is now lost upon us, especially when there isn’t even a smidge of the real oil.) With each development I find myself mystified because this is art that transcends understanding and rationale, how do I tell you that this creation is the essence of my people, the people of the larger Indian subcontinent, our past, our ancient philosophy, our ‘bhakti’ (faith) and our hopes and aspirations. This elixir is entrenched with the scent of the soil, the very soil which has always been sacred to us, the soil of my motherland. How do I tell you of the ancestral roots which draw me back to a world when the winds were new, the trees so young, the soil wet from the caressing rains, the sutras of the Vedas chanted in resounding voices, passed onto from the old to young through oral tradition, and the ‘homas’ and ‘yagnas’ (Vedic rituals and ceremonies honouring the element and deities of fire) performed in temples created from carved stone, the worship of the divinity that resides within, and within you and I... This elixir is perhaps the olfactory distillation of all that is familiar to me and has always been, through every life that I have lived in this cosmic space through the cycle of rebirth, it is a call to my origins, my roots that are entwined in this ancestry which beckons to me with its weight and the knowledge of the ancients, this is the material essence of my being, now and forever. Your very own, The Perfume Vigilante Note: If you are familiar with perfumes such as Tom Ford’s Noir Pour Femme or Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant, I’d say those were like stealing a glimpse into a traveller’s diary of Indian customs, Trayee however is Indian savoir-faire from a bygone era. Mind you there’s no similarity in scent profile whatsoever, but just a facsimile of the vibe. Trayee remains incomparable if I’m being honest. Synesthesia: Weeping Tree by Solace.

I have a suspicion that at some point far along in the composition of Trayee, Bertrand Duchaufour swore aloud and put his head in his hands as he realized he was making a gourmand perfume and not staying on course to the creative brief. Rather than clearing everything away and starting from scratch, he hit backspace a few times to insert a hard left turn so that Trayee couldn’t be so easily classified as a gourmand. Smelling Trayee I find myself saying, “I bet Serge Lutens loves this. He’s always loved a foodie sandalwood perfume.” Duchaufour is doing his best Sheldrake impression... that is, if Sheldrake steered towards India instead of Arabia. By no means are my words besmirching the efforts or the creative brief that has gone into Trayee. As with all art forms, true originality is exceptionally rare; if your criterion for loving a perfume is that it’s a true first and unlike anything else before, you will find yourself liking only a handful of perfumes amongst millions. When there is honesty, beauty, and heart behind something derivative, it is compelling art all the same. There is a lot of heart, a lot of devotion, and a lot of beauty in Trayee. I love the opening of Trayee, but, then again, I love the openings of every Vermeire I have smelled. Duchaufour knows exactly how to introduce Vermeire’s perfumes to our noses. The ginger and resinous incense opening is electric green. Neon bright, hard, piquant and zesty, from one angle it is citrus-skin bitter but from another angle it is earthy sour. Then comes the heart, where Trayee goes nearly full-on gourmand in a truly tantalizing and mouthwatering way - but Duchaufour’s hard left turn is also immediately noticed. Amongst the melange of herbs and spices - cardamom, coriander, cinnamon, basil, and saffron - is a lactone heavy sandalwood. The herb and spice blend is stunning. They are freshly ground and just picked, oils still oozing from them, an effect significantly helped along by the ultra creamy sandalwood that gives the blend a silky and buttery sheen, and a dusting of powdered sugar. Fruity florals of jasmine and possibly neroli or orange blossom play very quietly in the background, adding a breadth and depth of color and texture that is truly addictive. In essence, Trayee is a gourmand vis-a-vis a floral sandalwood; you can see where Duchaufour hit the backspace key in order to insert florals and earthy elements into the small, empty spaces of the perfume so that it isn’t blatantly gourmand. The creamy sandalwood carries into the base where plenty of vanillic amber notes await - again, gourmand - but a big slug of mosses brings a damp and earthy woodiness to the proceedings. The moss seems a bit “detached”; backspace, backspace, insert moss. But, it works as a very pleasant left-field juxtaposition to the creamy and vanillic sandalwood amber notes. The summation is certainly a rich, decadent, and luxurious wearing experience. Anyone else hungry? I’m starving.

Trayee is a sublime creation with a glorious, energetic, tonic opening composed mainly of black currant, ginger, and cinnamon. It is fruity but also dry at the same time, a special effect that creates a natural spackle, as if you cut open a sacred fruit. It's bold and hides nothing; it has a certain level of resinous attributes. The sweet basil and the resins come slowly right after the grand opening and set the tone to the darker, calmer aspects, creating an inevitable aura of zen. The initial sweet burst is tamed masterfully and leads to the consequential dark aspect of this creation. The first 2.0 dry down reveals the cinnamon as if it were a juxtaposition with the saffron and basil, to later reinvent itself into both a sweeter saffron and jasmine as a multidimensional flower 2.1. Both are sweet but also creamy. This middle is even more wow-inducing, as it takes all the above elements and makes them one, floating into the space between beautiful natural sweetness and spice fog, a spectacular skin cream effect. The jasmine in the 2.2 phase reaches a beautiful sweetness; it might even reach those rare handmade soaps that you can't buy because they are way too expensive, as they are made with dozens of natural, long-lasting elements. Finally, this is where it settles down. The loud boldness is finally tamed and controlled 2.3, but it isn't shy; it is meditative and joyful. The jasmine comes back again and becomes darker 2.4. It reaches points where it smells like the best dessert in the world and a very fresh tropical juice, some sort of a fruity Turkish delight (without any rose), but way more elevated. Note: To my huge disappointment, this perfume lasts maybe 2 hour (effective) After literally 30 minutes, becomes tame, after 1h, you try to understand where is going (Might need more time to macerate, but after few weeks this is the result) (People saying that last 12h? Is absolutely a lie - Or they changed the formula for some reason?) After multiple use the scent stays on you for hours, but is a deep skin scent, still, i wish performed better.

A very unusual creation that smells most definitely niche and exotic, yet familiar at the same time. Opens with a spicy, camphorous blast of cardamom, green ginger, piney elemi resin and cloves. On paper it has a piquant intensity that rings clear as a bell and sits high in the nose, a bit sharp. On my skin, however, this phase is quite short-lived and is soon followed by a dry, smokey oud accord tinged with the leathery nuance of saffron. A whisper of fruity sweetness weaves shyly through the strong columns of cracked wood and incense. Before long it settles into drier, dustier phase of muted spice, vague blackcurrant and milky sandalwood. There are many layers here and the blending is well executed. Still, I don't find myself falling head over heels. It reminds me a lot of "Jubilation XXV" -which I wasn't crazy about- only with much more weight to the woods and smoke. I do find that at some points, the sharpness of the opening makes me think of hairspray :/. This is probably due to the combination of elemi and saffron, which sort of mimics the bitter solvent smell in the air after you pump a can of Elle Net. I've observed a similar effect in Amouage's "Beloved Man". It's a little headache-inducing. That said, overall I do think "Trayee" is a better perfume than Jubilation XXV. It's brighter, punchier and the ingredients are more defined. Longevity doesn't seem to be terrific on me, but that could be fatigue. It is after all, highly concentrated. Definitely interesting, but sample before you buy.

What's not to love about Neela Vermeire's creations? Extremely good quality ingredients and classy. Unfortunately my cultural background is working against me. Living in Southeast Asia and having visited India, this fragrance immediately conjures up RAS MALAI and MASALA CHAI! Ras Malai is an Indian dessert of cheese soaked in a milky base of cardamom flavoured cream. Masala Chai is a sweet Indian beverage of black tea and spices. And I absolutely love both. Hence, despite Neela Vermeire's stated dislike of gourmands, Trayee is an unmitigated gourmand for anyone who is familiar with Indian cuisine. I grew up eating it and I stilI eat it on a regular basis. This is an Indian equivalent of Serge Lutens's Five O'Clock Au Gingembre! I almost wish I didn't have these associations so that I may enjoy this fragrance simply as an extremely well-crafted spicy Oriental. But we can't escape our baggage can we? Currently working my way (rather quickly) through a sample. I'll see if I can live without it. There may be a FB in sight but I'm torn between this and Ashoka :)