Symrise Travels to Tasmania

On Wednesday, January 25th, Symrise NYC kindly opened its doors, by invitation, to those of us who write—seekers all—allowing us to share in their Olfactive Odyssey to The Edge of the World: the expedition to Tasmania, a unique ecosystem and truly distant.
 

Nothing was to be removed from Tasmania—at any cost. No pleading, no bargaining; even the boots which these adventurers wore (which they attempted to send ahead to their Melbourne office, due to their sheer weight) were examined, had every trace of soil scraped from them  and that soil returned to its land of origin.
 

PIMILIA: Kari is holding them up to her nose in the first photograph. So very small and SO highly fragrant—eugenol-rich, like night-scented stock flowers. Heady, heady nectar from such a weensy bloom!
 

THE CLEANEST AIR ON THE EARTH - The Cliff Face was a very restricted area. Smelling the wind from as many directions as she could, it actually didn’t smell, if that can be said. For me, this accord was a masterful olfactory sleight of hand—at times brackish, musky ozonic, salty, floral. I can see how, when added to anything else, it would "create space" within a perfume and add an expansivity and lightness.
 

RED LICHEN: under Aboriginal caves, amongst seashells and seaweed, Kari found this lichen on rocks. She scratched, she sniffed: to her nose, it smelled like a clean man—an ozonic, watery, musky smell. It was very popular with many sniffers, and while I appreciated the work it must have taken to re-create it , I thought I smelled lurking Ambroxan. Love lichen; Ambroxan, not so much ;-0
 

HUON PINE: apparently, segmented tracts of land are dedicated to this species; unable to access any to sample, one friend left a box of the sawdust. Dear Lord. This is as voluptuous as one could wish—round, full, soft, with a hint of coconuttiness I felt faintly palpable, fine as a quality sandalwood.
 

LEMON-SCENTED BORONIA: unlike the other boronias I’ve smelled, which were faintly leathery, apricot-y, and rich-rich-rich, this was a sweetly lemony and surprisingly delicate floral. Kari says there is a variant known as "stinky boronia." And it IS, apparently.
 

EDGE OF THE WORLD FLOWER: Karen Solani got to name this, because it didn’t seem to possess a name already. This tiny flower needed to be smelled VERY CAREFULLY—it was very prickly. With such strong tradewinds and their diminutive size, they had to smell POTENT in order to attract pollinators. I smelled a very luxurious, liliaceous creamy floral of surprising intensity.
 

ACACIA: there are several varieties of this flower in the world, but the Tasmanian one we sampled was known as "The Wattle," or silver wattle acacia. Unlike an acacia rife with indoles, this was a creamy-sweet honeyed floral with a distinctly pear-like nuance.
 

TASMANIAN PEPPERWOOD: I loved this bitingly green and aggressively spicy accord, which feels to the nose like a green pepper combined with black pepper and a kiss of pink pepper. Kari mentioned that it could be used in lieu of galbanum (I’m not certain that everyone liked this as much as I did).  Due to the cost of Eastern spices, the Tasmanians used this (and other herbs and shrubs) to flavor their local cheeses.
 

CORREA REFLEXA: what a beautifully pungent, cassis leaf-like scent, evoking dill stalks.
 

MINT TREE EUCALYPTUS: only ethereally eucalyptus to my nose, definitely spearmint-redolent, with the fruity kiss of cassis in there, somewhere.
 

PINK LEATHERWOOD: this was Kari’s "most fantasy" scent, in that the name led her to expect that it was going to be spectacular. Instead, she had to really smell everything around it to create a veil of suede-reminiscent pastiche. Bees like it for their honey.
 

BLACKWOOD: the tree with a heart-shaped cross-section, it often has lichen or moss on its trunk, as it lives where the heavy dew never really dissipates. I found it to be a very coconut-laden soft cashmere-y wood, a comfort scent with a hint of sap.
 

CELERY PINE: oh so sappy! Only faintly piney or evergreen-like to me, and the celery felt like leaf or stalk, not the seed—if that makes any sense at all.
 

Author: Ida Meister (chayaruchama) has been an avid collector and sniffeuse for over 40 years. She adores consulting and collaborating with niche, budding,and independent perfumers . Her hypervigilant nose has  been of great help  in her profession as a neuroscience/oncology nurse, where she often smells fear, suffering, stress, and can identify most micro-organisms, medications, stages of disease, and has written about the amygdala.

As a Senior and Natural Perfumery Editor, Ida has participated in many blog events with natural and mixed media perfumers and other writers. She has also been a teacher, translator, opera singer, dancer, and a caterer.