Luxury is not Chic... Tiossano ç'est Chic!

I spent these past two years creating the mesmerizing scents for my upcoming line of Tiossano body care  products. I have been immersed in the world of scents and initiated to the art of perfume. I have been blessed to learn from some of  the world most renowned noses.  I also read from some of the most enlightening specialists. Amongst them is an interesting character, Luca Turin.

Luca Turin (1953 - ) is a biophysicist with a long-standing interest in the sense of smell, the art of perfume, and the fragrance industry. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luca_Turin

A quotation from him in English that perfectly describes what my brand Tiossano draws from:

The French like luxury, but what the French call luxury is actually call-girl chic.  Put it this way.  After finishing secondary school at sixteen, I went back to Paris to go to university, Paris XII, Pierre et Marie Curie.  I rented a room from Madame Clouzot, the sister of the film director Henri-Georges Clouzot, right near the Champs Elysees.  She explained that there were only two great French perfume makers, Guerlain and Caron.  Guerlain, she said, was for cocottes – kept women.  Caron was for the duchesse.  But in fact it was 1880s cocotte style that passes for chic in France.  What the French consider 'chic' is actually kept-woman vulgarity. . . . Caron, on the other hand, is absolutely proper, proper chic. . . .  Chic is, first, when you don't have to prove that you have money, either because you have a lot and it doesn't matter or because you don't have any and it doesn't matter.  Chic is not aspirational. . . Chic is the most impossible thing to define.  Luxury is a humourless thing, largely, and when humor happens in luxury it happens involuntarily.  Chic is all about humor.  Which means chic is about intelligence.  And there has to be oddness – most luxury is conformist, and chic cannot be.  Chic must be polite and not incommode others, but within that it can be as weird as it wants.

Why I love to create…

 

 

 

Even as a kid, I loved to create.  I loved mes classes de travaux pratiques  (practical classes) in school:  electronics, metal, woodworking, sewing, etc.  I loved the magic of creating something out of nothing, I loved the practicality of it (most school subjects seemed like useless crap to me), I loved using my hands, and I really loved using what I made.

The dream of the perfect "thing" in my head, to having to realize it. Going from the perfect one in my head to having my hands make it, and realize the struggle and see how the compromise would almost always enhance it for the best... I used to wonder why and how one could be happy with a wanna-be version of the perfection your mind conceived... it became clear that it had to do with the fact that what is done with love, care, hopes and your own sweat always comes out "perfect" nonetheless. Remember the last time you looked at a mother completely mesmerized at her little one, and thinking to yourself "what on earth???!!!!". And all the sudden you also start to see the child in a different light, for now the light surrounding that child is the light of love, care, hopes and hard work the mother looking at her in this moment is radiating all around her precious little one. 

And I love getting stuff ready.  Even vegetables, when I'm cooking, the process of transforming a raw product of nature into something that will be delicious and beautiful for me - and others - to eat.

 

I love growing food, and seeing the process of planting seeds, caring for plants, and then harvesting them for my own table.  Not only do the fruits and vegetables taste different, I have a completely different relationship to them.  They are meaningful to me in a way that something bought somewhere else can never have.

Could it be why my friends always seem to rediscover the true taste, flavor and aroma of fruits and vegetables when they come to my home?