Bois Farine (2003)
by L'Artisan Parfumeur

The opening of Bois Fariné definitely reminds me of some bread or cakes that I smelt before. I don't think it smells like peanut butter or nutella on me. I just can't put my finger on it! (What on earth is it? It's driving me crazy! Grrrrrr....... =A=)

After about 3 or 4 hours, the benzoin loses its power on the fragrance. The sandalwoods and other woodsy notes become more prominent. The scent also turns slightly sour on me. The powdery aspect is noticeable but not aggressive.

The sillage is soft but the scent stays solid along the wearing. The longevity is around 6 hours on me. Actually, Bois Fariné doesn't evoke much emotion to me. I'm attracted by the scent itself as it smells just so interesting and addictive. It definitely worths at least a try!

If I were a baker my kitchen would have many trays holding the many rising dough balls that would later become my world famous peanut bread. Tubs of freshly slivered almonds and my signature amaretto glaze complete the scene. Bois Farine. The baker owns a bottle but rarely wears it. And when the baker is informed that the master JCE is responsible for both this one and Santal Massoia, he just grunts an unenthusiastic 'that figures' and goes back to baking his world famous peanut bread.

Although it's woody, Bois Farine really needs to be worn in warm weather or on warm skin. It brings out the creamy nuttiness and the delicate flowers; in the cold it can smell a bit pencil-sharpenings. A great one for a long drive or for reading in a sunny bay window.

This has a nutty vibe which is pretty nice. A little incense is added with some light woods in the background. The projection and longevity isn't all that great but for this type of fragrance, I wouldn't want it to be too loud anyway. Perfect for a nice cool day. Cool, not cold. 7/10

I thought I had the measure of this the minute I put it on. Aha, I said to myself, ok, Bois Farine, I understand you completely. You are less a perfume than the collected smells of a health food store: crushed peanut shells, sawdust, wood shavings, bags of whole-wheat flour, quinoa, big jars of tahini, and chunks of halva lined up in the cooler section. Dust, oil, flour. It’s all there.An olfactory joke, sure, but a wry, knowing one.

Clever.

But wait. The journey isn’t over yet. We may have started in the health food store, but the scenery is whizzing past us now, to primary school and the delicious smells of the art supply closet. I can smell the cheap almond glue smell of heliotropin, and it reminds me both of salty playdough, warm vanilla, and the standard-issue, non-toxic glue they let kids use.

There is finally a dry, warm vanilla – dusty, like the smell of realms of paper in the closet. I smell the blue-white milk, tepid and fatty, already put out in cups lined up behind the teacher’s desk, ready for our snack time, collecting dust as the school room clock’s long hand inches inexorably slowly towards 11am and freedom.

I see now why so many people find this a comforting scent. It starts out as an olfactory joke and ends up as a f^&*%g time machine.

It’s like watching Cinema Paradiso and holding out until the last scene where they play all the cut reels and then ending up howling on the floor. Bois Farine, you are such an asshole.