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The sweet smell of Grasse

Beyond Blonde
May 15, 2016
2 min read

I had read in the tourist literature that upon walking the streets of Grasse one can smell the perfumed air of roses, orange blossom and jasmine. I had thought it usual tourist hyperbole however I was wrong. It does smell sweet. I had navigated the twisting road up from Nice to Grasse to the Fragonard perfumery. With an hour to spare before the English speaking tour, I walked through the building as directed to exit into the narrow ancient streets of Grasse in search of lunch.

Options beckoned however I chose a simple crepe with tomato and cheese, perched upon a high stool all the better to people watch with. Two German friends, French locals, two mature women from the Gold Coast LOL who wanted to chat.

Fragonard is the only perfume manufacturer in France that does not produce for other clients so their range is unique and boutique. It is the prettiest factory I have ever seen. The outside of rosy hues beckons inside where the scale of production seems small. Amazing statistics - enough rose petals that equal the weight of a full grown elephant to produce 1 litre of rose essential oil, 8000 jasmine flowers hand picked to create a small amount of oil, perfume = 20% essential oil and 80% alcohol. 2016 is the year of the Iris, for each year has its own celebration of a particular flower. The iris itself has no scent but its roots, ground and matured make for a sweet fragrance.

As sweet as the ancient town of Grasse is I did not stay. Driving the narrow and windy roads up to Cabris, I am resting in a small hillside village. The remains of the ancient Chateau is next to my lodging at The Auberge du Vieux Chateau - rightly named. It is situated between one crumbling wall of the chateau which was established in 1000AD and the surviving church. I can hear the church bell strike as it must have for centuries and one can so easily imagine the slow pace of life from centuries before continue to today. The view from the courtyard extends as far as one can see to the Riveria coast. Cannes and its film festival are in the distance glittering away.

Cabris is for rest. The hotel is quiet and frequented only by two or three other guests. The restaurant closed on a Monday but there are local cafes for me to try. The local town square has already supplied me with a wonderful local rose. For day two of this journey, I am amazed at the sweetness of it all.