Papier Carbone
Ormaie (2018)

Those of a certain age will remember mimeograph paper, straight from the press and warm to the touch, with that unmistakable aroma from the duplicating fluid. It was sort of like the smell of rubbing alcohol without the harshness combined with an aromatic sweetness, a sensation like heliotrope without benzaldehyde-cherry-almond. The color of the ink: a violet blue, almost glowing on the paper. I looked at some images of old mimeo pages (or "ditto," as it was also often called) and was immediately transported to sitting at one of those desks made of heavy-duty plastic in pastel color, with the chrome legs.

Papier Carbone reminds me of mimeograph paper, and of sharing Good n' Plenty candy with friends or plucking all the Brach's black gum drops out of the bag. I loved pens as a precocious child, and while I was still not yet allowed to use them in grade (primary) school, I was given Bic ballpoint pens at home—ahhh, that new pen smell, blue ink please. I'd scribble and draw and write to my heart's content into a fresh Mead paper pad, making schedules for an imaginary TV channel that I ran, or I would create road maps for imaginary towns. There was also my previous Mortimer Ichabod marker that I would use religiously whenever Picture Pages would air on Nickelodeon—I was the only kid in my neighborhood to actually own one, and yes, it did make fun electronic sounds!

This fragrance takes me back to all of this and more. In the muted milkiness of its heart, its clary sage comfort and ambrette seed warmth, there is this poignant reminder of the purest form of human curiosity and receptiveness, something we lose sight of in our hard-worn adulthood. Herein lies the power of scent: it can be so very personal, opening the vaults of our memory in such a profound way. Perhaps many of us who seek out fragrance so voraciously, with such abandon, are seeking keys to these vaults, knowing that we are often made to feel whole once we reconnect to our past—we can return to the very core, the essence of who we are.

Another disappointment for me from this brand. On my skin I detected neither coffee nor anise, no spices at all in fact, just some faint, vaguely honey-like and floral syrupy sweetness that I was almost glad to feel gone within two hours. On the blotter it was initially more interesting, with a whiff of that resinous, inky, dried-fruit scent of what the title and marketing promised, the 'carbon paper' I remember from my childhood and which was what got me all excited about trying this in the first place. But no... let's just say, if Proust had got a whiff of this in his mouchoir instead of the famous madeleine dip in tea, the best associative outcome would be a few lines long, and end in a short shopping list for the grocer.