Datura flowers grow up and down my street, they are the main ingredient of my current favorite perfume. These flowers are also known as "Angel's Trumpets" and "Hell's Bells." They are pollinated nocturnally by hawk moths.
From the Enyclopedia of Hallucinogens:
"The belladonna alkaloids, of which the Datura flower are a part, are so terrifying and incapacitating - the physical effects often so unpleasant, and the loss of contact with ordinary reality so complete - that they are used only with great caution and rarely for pleasure."
The Datura flower as a drug has been mainly used throughout the Middle Ages by sorcerers, shamen, poisoners, and oddly, pimps:
"Datura flowers were commonly sold for their aphrodisiac qualities all over central and southern Europe. They had the reputation of breaking down any resistance to sexual approaches. Pimps in particular knew how to use the herb to their own best advantage. An indignant German writer aptly documents this common use of Datura, which he describes as: 'a tool of brothel-keepers, wicked seducers of girls, depraved courtesans and shameless lechers."
One blog I frequent is devoted to recounting experiences with unusual drugs. A recent entry described the odd and terrifying experience of smoking the Datura flower. During the high, which can last for over a week, the writer talked to plants and had extremely realistic three-dimensional hallucinations.
I keep Datura Noir, nocturnal perfume it is, decanted in a bisque owl bottle my boyfriend bought me in Germany. It sits alone in its decanter on my fireplace mantel, separated from all the "nice" perfumes by several rooms.
I have just discovered your perfume reviews - wow! You have a way of capturing the moment and the feel of a fragrance. Such a fearless way of expressing the impressions you get from each one!
Just three weeks ago I finally found Serge Lutens perfumes after much anticipation, and my first purchase was Datura Noir. It is the only perfume I have ever known that really smells like the night, most especially a night filled with the decadent fragrance of my evening garden, filled with nicotiana, white trumpet lilies and sometimes even Datura when I am lucky enough to get it to bloom. Underneath the sweetness of the perfume lurks the swampy danger which I recognized immediately.
I wore it with some trepidation, concerned that others would find it to be too much. No worries; one friend was so smitten with it that I decanted an atomizer of it for her. Now I feel a little daring when I wear it, like I have secret no one else knows.
Posted by: Flora | Monday, January 23, 2006 at 01:22 AM