‘Dirty ashtray wrapped in floral notes': The unusual perfumes worth trying
A friend of mine, who is a serious fragrance addict, once – rather foolishly – revealed her signature scent to me: Portrait of a Lady, from Editions de Parfums By Frédéric Malle ($436 for the 50ml EDP). I then shared her secret with the world in my book, Secrets of a Beauty Queen.
I am now a devotee of this intoxicating oriental rose with a blend of benzoin, cinnamon, patchouli, musk and frankincense; I have nicknamed it my 'fragrance heroin'.
Having betrayed my friend's trust, she proudly (and rather smugly) revealed that she had a new signature scent, and that she was never going to give it up. I poked and prodded her for details, and she talked tantalisingly of it smelling like a newborn baby's head combined with breast milk. Not to be deterred, I Googled the heck out of it. My instinct tells me it's Demeter New Baby ($35), all lemony and cream.
Tom Ford is always a fountain of inspiration when it comes to out-there fragrances. There is his F---ing Fabulous ($1600 for 250ml), which he himself describes as being 'undeniably the most straightforward name for such a beautiful scent. Why make it complicated?' It is explicit, sexy, earthy and bold with notes of oriental leather, bitter almond oil, tonka bean, orris root and clary sage oil. Another Tom Ford winner is Vanilla Sex ($395 for 30ml).
The crazy kids at Libre d'Orange are always coming up with surprising scents including the renowned Sécrétions Magnifiques ($150 for 50ml), which smells like several bodily fluids including blood, sweat and saliva. Its creators refer to it as 'subversive' and 'disturbing' saying, 'It's love or hate at first sight. Like blood, sweat, sperm, saliva, [it] is as real as an olfactory coitus.' This rather daring and experimental scent is softened with coconut and sandalwood notes.
Also from this scent stable, we love Jasmin et Cigarette ($260 for 100ml). The name says it all: dirty ashtray wrapped in floral notes.
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Another on our list of unique fragrances is Moth and Rabbit Perfumes' La Haine ($165 for 50ml). It is an intoxicating unisex scent with notes of birch tar, cedar, leather and musk.
And, finally, an oldie but serious goodie is Fracas de Robert Piguet ($299 for 100ml), which should be worn with extreme caution, as it can attract serious attention. It is an incredibly lush white floral with tuberose, jasmine and gardenia as its seductive top notes, with a base of sandalwood and musk. I once had to do a death-roll from a car to escape an unwanted advance while wearing it.
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The Age
2 days ago
- The Age
‘I can't do this forever': Comedy festival boss to hand over baton
Next year the Melbourne International Comedy Festival turns 40, and for 30 of those years, Susan Provan has been at the helm. 'I can't keep doing it forever,' she says, in what amounts to an exclusive near-reveal, given how vice-like her grip on the top job has been. So, does that mean she has a succession plan in place? 'We are talking,' she says. 'I'm talking with board members about what happens.' Is there a timeline – will you be leaving after the 40th, or could you still be there for the 50th? 'We're not looking at a particular thing at the moment, but I'm certainly not doing another 10 years,' Provan says. 'I am actively thinking about what next. I am actively thinking, 'I can't do this forever.'' Maybe not. But she kind of has been there forever. Although she wasn't officially part of the festival team for its first decade, Provan was there at the outset. 'I was a waiter at The Last Laugh during the first comedy festival,' she recalls, referencing the Collingwood venue whose owners, impresario John Pinder (founder of Circus Oz) and his business partner Roger Evans, were among those who conceived the idea for an event to rival the likes of Edinburgh and Montreal as a showcase for the world's funniest performers. In 1986, the Victorian government was persuaded to stump up funding for a research trip overseas to investigate the feasibility of the idea. The following year, with $170,000 of government funding and a program of 40 acts, the festival was launched, at a packed press conference, by Australian cultural envoy Sir Les Patterson (aka Barry Humphries) and English comedian Peter Cook. Sir Les got his penis out for the attendant press, and duly pressed it into a batch of wet cement (that's one way to make an impression), while Cook – one half of the foul-mouthed and hilarious Pete and Dud (with Dudley Moore) – obligingly dropped an F-bomb. And they were off. The festival has been on a more or less unbroken trajectory of growth ever since, interrupted only by the COVID-hit years of 2020 (when it was cancelled entirely, less than a fortnight from opening night) and 2021, when attendances were down about 45 per cent and box office by a third on the pre-COVID results. Attendances still haven't reached the 2019 peak of 776,737 (including free events and tickets), but in all other respects 2025 was a record year. The festival staged 696 shows in 182 performance spaces, for a total of 7804 performances. There were 646,864 paying customers (and 707,388 total attendances, including at free events) for a box office of $22.9 million, up marginally on the previous year's then-record $22.6 million. And after a couple of years of running deficits, the festival this year turned a small surplus. 'We've bounced back,' says Provan. 'We were a bit worried about this year because everybody's talking about cost of living … but it wound up being the biggest festival ever. We are the biggest comedy festival in the world right now, despite what Montreal might say about itself.' Bigger, even, than Edinburgh? 'No, but the Fringe is different – it's part of a bigger festival. Melbourne is the biggest standalone festival of comedy.' Still, Provan walks a fine line when talking up her festival's success. She wants it to be seen as the enormous cultural event it is – bigger than the AFL finals series, bigger than the F1 grand prix, much bigger than the Rising arts festival, and only the Australian Open tennis draws more attendees – but she also wants more help from a cash-strapped state government to ensure it maintains momentum. The festival runs as a non-profit, and is open to all comers from Australia and New Zealand – 'anyone who wants to can just come and do it'. And mounting it costs serious money. While most acts in the festival are self-staged or put on by commercial promoters, the festival itself (the part Provan oversees) is responsible for the international acts, typically about 25 in all. Loading Provan's team is also responsible for building and staffing the festival's key infrastructure. 'We build about 35 rooms, and it's incredibly expensive to build a whole lot of venues just for four weeks,' says Provan. 'The cost of lighting, sound gear, drapes, staging, all of that stuff, has become so much more expensive over the past five years.' The festival employs about 400 people over the month it runs, and Provan prides herself on the fact they are all paid. 'I think it's wrong where you see volunteers at other festivals,' she says. 'The front-of-house staff, techies, box-office staff, they're all skilled tradespeople. They know what they're doing. They are crucial to make such a big festival run smoothly.' Provan's team also run key festival events, including the Gala, RAW Comedy (the open-mic competition), Deadly Funny (for First Nations comedians), Class Clowns (for teens) and the Festival Club. And when the whole shebang is over, they send a small selection of acts around the country on the Festival Roadshow. That all costs a lot of money – $11.1 million in 2024, the last year for which a fully audited financial report is available. Most of that comes from ticket sales, while the state government contributes about $2.12 million (baseline funding of about $1.7 million, the same it has been since 2011, plus some top-up grants). According to Provan, that equates to just $2.79 per audience member. 'The big challenge is securing that core funding that enables us to deliver the festival base with confidence,' she says. She understands that times are tough and all festivals and arts organisations face an uncertain future, but she insists – in the most government-friendly way she can manage – that it's not really enough. 'It would feel much more comfortable for us if we had $3.5 million,' she says. If that sounds like a lot, bear in mind that the Victorian government contributed more than $130 million towards the costs of staging the Australian Grand Prix (at Albert Park) and Australian Motorcycle Grand Prix (at Phillip Island) events last year. That funding boost wouldn't just sustain the festival at its current level; it would help it manage the expansion that Provan feels is inevitable. 'It is growing, and I don't think anything can stop it growing,' she says. 'It's like a snowball rolling down a hill.' 'If we had good secure funding, we could do more international marketing. There's a great deal of untapped potential in international audiences coming in to have holidays and go to the festival. You look at the Edinburgh Fringe, which is a relatively small city – they sell over 2 million tickets because they have audiences coming from all over.' With all thoughts of handing on the baton shelved for the moment, Provan adds: 'I'd like to, in the near future, hit a million ticket sales. And then, onwards and upwards.'
Sydney Morning Herald
3 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘I can't do this forever': Comedy festival boss considers handing over baton
Next year the Melbourne International Comedy Festival turns 40, and for 30 of those years, Susan Provan has been at the helm. 'I can't keep doing it forever,' she says, in what amounts to an exclusive near-reveal, given how vice-like her grip on the top job has been. So, does that mean she has a succession plan in place? 'We are talking,' she says. 'I'm talking with board members about what happens.' Is there a timeline – will you be leaving after the 40th, or could you still be there for the 50th? 'We're not looking at a particular thing at the moment, but I'm certainly not doing another 10 years,' Provan says. 'I am actively thinking about what next. I am actively thinking, 'I can't do this forever.'' Maybe not. But she kind of has been there forever. Although she wasn't officially part of the festival team for its first decade, Provan was there at the outset. 'I was a waiter at The Last Laugh during the first comedy festival,' she recalls, referencing the Collingwood venue in which impresario John Pinder (founder of Circus Oz) and his business partner Roger Evans conceived the idea for an event to rival the likes of Edinburgh and Montreal as a showcase for the world's funniest performers. In 1986, the pair convinced the Victorian government to stump up funding for a research trip overseas to investigate the feasibility of the idea. The following year, with $170,000 of government funding and a program of 40 acts, the festival was launched, at a packed press conference, by Australian cultural envoy Sir Les Patterson (aka Barry Humphries) and English comedian Peter Cook. Sir Les got his penis out for the attendant press, and duly pressed it into a batch of wet cement (that's one way to make an impression), while Cook – one half of the foul-mouthed and hilarious Pete and Dud (with Dudley Moore) – obligingly dropped an F-bomb. And they were off. The festival has been on a more or less unbroken trajectory of growth ever since, interrupted only by the COVID-hit years of 2020 (when it was cancelled entirely, less than a fortnight from opening night) and 2021, when attendances were down about 45 per cent and box office by a third on the pre-COVID results. Attendances still haven't reached the 2019 peak of 776,737 (including free events and tickets), but in all other respects 2025 was a record year. The festival staged 696 shows in 182 performance spaces, for a total of 7804 performances. There were 646,864 paying customers (and 707,388 total attendances, including at free events) for a box office of $22.9 million, up marginally on the previous year's then-record $22.6 million. And after a couple of years of running deficits, the festival this year turned a small surplus. 'We've bounced back,' says Provan. 'We were a bit worried about this year because everybody's talking about cost of living … but it wound up being the biggest festival ever. We are the biggest comedy festival in the world right now, despite what Montreal might say about itself.' Bigger, even, than Edinburgh? 'No, but the Fringe is different – it's part of a bigger festival. Melbourne is the biggest standalone festival of comedy.' Still, Provan walks a fine line when talking up her festival's success. She wants it to be seen as the enormous cultural event it is – bigger than the AFL finals series, bigger than the F1 grand prix, much bigger than the Rising arts festival, and only the Australian Open tennis draws more attendees – but she also wants more help from a cash-strapped state government to ensure it maintains momentum. The festival runs as a non-profit, and is open to all comers from Australia and New Zealand – 'anyone who wants to can just come and do it'. And mounting it costs serious money. While most acts in the festival are self-staged or put on by commercial promoters, the festival itself (the part Provan oversees) is responsible for the international acts, typically about 25 in all. Loading Provan's team is also responsible for building and staffing the festival's key infrastructure. 'We build about 35 rooms, and it's incredibly expensive to build a whole lot of venues just for four weeks,' says Provan. 'The cost of lighting, sound gear, drapes, staging, all of that stuff, has become so much more expensive over the past five years.' The festival employs about 400 people over the month it runs, and Provan prides herself on the fact they are all paid. 'I think it's wrong where you see volunteers at other festivals,' she says. 'The front-of-house staff, techies, box-office staff, they're all skilled tradespeople. They know what they're doing. They are crucial to make such a big festival run smoothly.' Provan's team also run key festival events, including the Gala, RAW Comedy (the open-mic competition), Deadly Funny (for First Nations comedians), Class Clowns (for teens) and the Festival Club. And when the whole shebang is over, they send a small selection of acts around the country on the Festival Roadshow. That all costs a lot of money – $11.1 million in 2024, the last year for which a fully audited financial report is available. Most of that comes from ticket sales, while the state government contributes about $2.12 million (baseline funding of about $1.7 million, the same it has been since 2011, plus some top-up grants). According to Provan, that equates to just $2.79 per audience member. 'The big challenge is securing that core funding that enables us to deliver the festival base with confidence,' she says. She understands that times are tough and all festivals and arts organisations face an uncertain future, but she insists – in the most government-friendly way she can manage – that it's not really enough. 'It would feel much more comfortable for us if we had $3.5 million,' she says. If that sounds like a lot, bear in mind that the Victorian government contributed more than $130 million towards the costs of staging the Australian Grand Prix (at Albert Park) and Australian Motorcycle Grand Prix (at Phillip Island) events last year. That funding boost wouldn't just sustain the festival at its current level; it would help it manage the expansion that Provan feels is inevitable. 'It is growing, and I don't think anything can stop it growing,' she says. 'It's like a snowball rolling down a hill.' 'If we had good secure funding, we could do more international marketing. There's a great deal of untapped potential in international audiences coming in to have holidays and go to the festival. You look at the Edinburgh Fringe, which is a relatively small city – they sell over 2 million tickets because they have audiences coming from all over.' With all thoughts of handing on the baton shelved for the moment, Provan adds: 'I'd like to, in the near future, hit a million ticket sales. And then, onwards and upwards.'
The Age
3 days ago
- The Age
‘I can't do this forever': Comedy festival boss considers handing over baton
Next year the Melbourne International Comedy Festival turns 40, and for 30 of those years, Susan Provan has been at the helm. 'I can't keep doing it forever,' she says, in what amounts to an exclusive near-reveal, given how vice-like her grip on the top job has been. So, does that mean she has a succession plan in place? 'We are talking,' she says. 'I'm talking with board members about what happens.' Is there a timeline – will you be leaving after the 40th, or could you still be there for the 50th? 'We're not looking at a particular thing at the moment, but I'm certainly not doing another 10 years,' Provan says. 'I am actively thinking about what next. I am actively thinking, 'I can't do this forever.'' Maybe not. But she kind of has been there forever. Although she wasn't officially part of the festival team for its first decade, Provan was there at the outset. 'I was a waiter at The Last Laugh during the first comedy festival,' she recalls, referencing the Collingwood venue in which impresario John Pinder (founder of Circus Oz) and his business partner Roger Evans conceived the idea for an event to rival the likes of Edinburgh and Montreal as a showcase for the world's funniest performers. In 1986, the pair convinced the Victorian government to stump up funding for a research trip overseas to investigate the feasibility of the idea. The following year, with $170,000 of government funding and a program of 40 acts, the festival was launched, at a packed press conference, by Australian cultural envoy Sir Les Patterson (aka Barry Humphries) and English comedian Peter Cook. Sir Les got his penis out for the attendant press, and duly pressed it into a batch of wet cement (that's one way to make an impression), while Cook – one half of the foul-mouthed and hilarious Pete and Dud (with Dudley Moore) – obligingly dropped an F-bomb. And they were off. The festival has been on a more or less unbroken trajectory of growth ever since, interrupted only by the COVID-hit years of 2020 (when it was cancelled entirely, less than a fortnight from opening night) and 2021, when attendances were down about 45 per cent and box office by a third on the pre-COVID results. Attendances still haven't reached the 2019 peak of 776,737 (including free events and tickets), but in all other respects 2025 was a record year. The festival staged 696 shows in 182 performance spaces, for a total of 7804 performances. There were 646,864 paying customers (and 707,388 total attendances, including at free events) for a box office of $22.9 million, up marginally on the previous year's then-record $22.6 million. And after a couple of years of running deficits, the festival this year turned a small surplus. 'We've bounced back,' says Provan. 'We were a bit worried about this year because everybody's talking about cost of living … but it wound up being the biggest festival ever. We are the biggest comedy festival in the world right now, despite what Montreal might say about itself.' Bigger, even, than Edinburgh? 'No, but the Fringe is different – it's part of a bigger festival. Melbourne is the biggest standalone festival of comedy.' Still, Provan walks a fine line when talking up her festival's success. She wants it to be seen as the enormous cultural event it is – bigger than the AFL finals series, bigger than the F1 grand prix, much bigger than the Rising arts festival, and only the Australian Open tennis draws more attendees – but she also wants more help from a cash-strapped state government to ensure it maintains momentum. The festival runs as a non-profit, and is open to all comers from Australia and New Zealand – 'anyone who wants to can just come and do it'. And mounting it costs serious money. While most acts in the festival are self-staged or put on by commercial promoters, the festival itself (the part Provan oversees) is responsible for the international acts, typically about 25 in all. Loading Provan's team is also responsible for building and staffing the festival's key infrastructure. 'We build about 35 rooms, and it's incredibly expensive to build a whole lot of venues just for four weeks,' says Provan. 'The cost of lighting, sound gear, drapes, staging, all of that stuff, has become so much more expensive over the past five years.' The festival employs about 400 people over the month it runs, and Provan prides herself on the fact they are all paid. 'I think it's wrong where you see volunteers at other festivals,' she says. 'The front-of-house staff, techies, box-office staff, they're all skilled tradespeople. They know what they're doing. They are crucial to make such a big festival run smoothly.' Provan's team also run key festival events, including the Gala, RAW Comedy (the open-mic competition), Deadly Funny (for First Nations comedians), Class Clowns (for teens) and the Festival Club. And when the whole shebang is over, they send a small selection of acts around the country on the Festival Roadshow. That all costs a lot of money – $11.1 million in 2024, the last year for which a fully audited financial report is available. Most of that comes from ticket sales, while the state government contributes about $2.12 million (baseline funding of about $1.7 million, the same it has been since 2011, plus some top-up grants). According to Provan, that equates to just $2.79 per audience member. 'The big challenge is securing that core funding that enables us to deliver the festival base with confidence,' she says. She understands that times are tough and all festivals and arts organisations face an uncertain future, but she insists – in the most government-friendly way she can manage – that it's not really enough. 'It would feel much more comfortable for us if we had $3.5 million,' she says. If that sounds like a lot, bear in mind that the Victorian government contributed more than $130 million towards the costs of staging the Australian Grand Prix (at Albert Park) and Australian Motorcycle Grand Prix (at Phillip Island) events last year. That funding boost wouldn't just sustain the festival at its current level; it would help it manage the expansion that Provan feels is inevitable. 'It is growing, and I don't think anything can stop it growing,' she says. 'It's like a snowball rolling down a hill.' 'If we had good secure funding, we could do more international marketing. There's a great deal of untapped potential in international audiences coming in to have holidays and go to the festival. You look at the Edinburgh Fringe, which is a relatively small city – they sell over 2 million tickets because they have audiences coming from all over.' With all thoughts of handing on the baton shelved for the moment, Provan adds: 'I'd like to, in the near future, hit a million ticket sales. And then, onwards and upwards.'
