Shake or Shape?

The more I learn about perfumery, the more intriguing the shape/vibration argument becomes. Recently I read (in the wrong order) Luca Turin's book about his research process, The Secret of Scent, then Avery Gilbert's What the Nose Knows, then Chandler Burr's The Emperor of Scent, about Luca Turin's quest to identify the mechanism that our bodies use to identify scent.

After following the arguments for and against molecular shape and molecular vibration, I had to come down on the side of vibration. But then I needed to know why the perfume industry, Avery Gilbert and many biologists are so dead set against it, so over the Christmas holidays I downloaded and read Luca Turin's original academic paper: A Spectroscopic Mechanism for Primary Olfactory Reception. It's not exactly poolside reading, but it's not impossible to understand. It's objective, and as well as describing his methods in uncovering a valid mechanism for the human nervous system to detect smells by their vibration, he also gives a new scientific explanation for the anomalies which scuppered the previous vibration theories by Dyson and Wright: how two molecules that have the same vibration (the right hand and left hand versions of the same compound) smell different.

His theory explains why molecules with completely different shapes can smell the same. Turin goes further and shows that two molecules with the same shape can smell different (because they have a two different ions captured inside them). That ought to be good enough to get it a fair hearing, so how come the people on the opposing bench claim that they refuse to read Turin's paper because it's a waste of time? (Read The Emperor of Scent for the whole story and see Avery Gilbert's blog for the way he writes about anyone who explores Turin's theory further.)

The difference between a true scientific theory - not just a good idea, the way we use the word theory in everyday life - is that it should be able to predict the outcome of an experiment.
Turin's vibrational theory basically says this:
If two molecules have a similar vibration, they will have a smiliar smell.

The shape explanation says that each scent molecule corresponds exactly to a receptor which it fits into perfectly. It's known as the lock and key method.

The shape explanation can't predict what something will smell like. Molecules with similar shapes can smell completely different, or not smell at all. It seems pretty obvious to someone coming to this from a scientific background, but from outside the circle of the modern perfumery industry, that the shape theory is rubbish. It doens't work, and it doesn't help to make new scents, but it's the one that the scent chemists have invested in.

I read a lot of books about perfume. Jean-Claude Ellena's little gem, Perfume, the Alchemy of Scent, dances round the round the issue by using phrases artistic rather than scientific. For Ellena, the scent molecule expresses itself to the nervous system. Roja Dove never strays from the industry line: it's the shape that does it. For him, a scent molecule searches for the right receptor them fits into it, the lock and key method.

The lock and key method does exist in nature, in our immune system, but it's not instant. Smell is. Our eyes and ears both use vibrations to explain what we hear and see. You'd have thought it was worth an investigation.

So what's the big problem? As Chandler Burr explains in The Emperor of Scent, and Luca Turin also spells out point by point in The Secret of Scent, the entire multi-million pound perfume industry relies on five (six at the time they were writing) massive companies which pretty much own the world of smell.

They make their multi-millions by creating thousands of new molecules (mostly from oxygen, carbon and hydrogen) aiming to invent and patent one that smells 1) great  and 2) strong and is safe and stable enough to be used in a brand new fragrance. They aim to impress the top perfumers (the noses, creative directors and the marketing teams) and sell this molecule to one of the huge perfume houses that dominate the world's markets. It could be used for luxury perfumery, or for washing powder, room fragrances or soap - anything that smells good.
Of the thousands that they make each year, most don't make the grade. Only about 1% of their research chemists' results will be useful. That's 99% of their work down the plughole. That's the way research goes.
But if they chose to apply Luca Turin's theory, and aimed to create molecules with similar vibrations to sandalwood, jasmine, rose and all the really expensive natural stuff, which was what he recommended, he suggested that they could maybe save 90% of their costs. So why don't they? Why is the vibration theory stamped on so hard whenever it's mentioned? Chandler Burr's explanation is that the people who really do understand Turin's method, CHYPRE (CHaracter PREdiction (he has a sense of humour)), realise that 90% of them would lose their jobs if it were adopted so they denounce it as ridiculous.

Luca Turin appears to be entirely unmotivated by money; he is besotted with scent and he adores pure science. He's also defiantly anti-political, in the sense that he doesn't really care about his career or status in the academic world as long as he has a lab and access to research facilities. He has also crossed scientific discliplines to get to his result, something that hasn't been popular in the last 100 years since science split up into specialisms. He's technically a biophysicist, but he had to delve into chemistry, physics and biology to get the answers he needed. While the chemists say that his chemistry is valid, and likewise with the physicists and biologists, if a scientist sticks his or head up and says "Isn't this worth a further look?" they risk being shot at from all directions.

This isn't a new situation. Even Einstein had one theory that no-one believed until after his death. Centuries ago, scientists who dared to suggest something that disagreed with the powers that be risked burning at the stake. It was obvious that the sun orbited the earth, wasn't it? You could see it happening. Fortunately for Turin, you don't get shoved in the slammer for your theories these days, but the verbal abuse he's had is a wonder to behold.

Now, he's working on scent research for the US military, the organisation that funded the internet. Isn't that a bit of a hint that he might actually be right?

Gorillas

I did say I'd get back to them, so I have. Gorilla Perfumes. First, may we just say that Gorilla Perfumes is a dreadful name? It's not even funny. Yes, yes I know the story. It was supposed to be Guerilla perfumes but they couldn't spell it and anyway and Simon thought Mark Constantine looked like a gorilla or vice versa. It's still silly. Shame, because as usual with Lush, the scents are gorgeous.
The Gorilla Perfumes range is made up from Lush's own scents, some from B Never Too Busy to be Beautiful, Lush's indulgently unprofitable sideline in colours and fragrances, and some brand new ones. They're often started by Mark and finished by Simon Constantine, because Simon says that even when his dad thinks his perfumes are finished, they aren't. Their assistant perfumer and assiduous blogger is Pia Long, AKA Nukapai.
There aren't many perfumeurs who can make free with the world's precious materials without having number-crunchers stepping in and telling them to use the synthetic version to save money. At Lush they have that freedom and they do use it with lavish abandon, or rather with lavish control. They do it because they love to think they are funding fields of roses, jasmine gardens, orange groves and sandalwood plantations, where wildlife can live and birds can sing. It's not about money; it's about beauty. Of the perfumers wo do have that freedom, Lush is the only one whose scents are even halfway affordable.
In the cosmetic world, manufacturers generally spend 80% of their product costs on packaging and 20% of materials. With Lush it's the other way around. To get a perfume this spectacularly luxurious from anyone else, you'd pay four times as much for the same amount. (Maths: If materials cost £20, Lush's total would be £25 and the industry standard would be £100. We've not even factored in the advertising spend, and Lush don't have one.)
So forget the daft name for the moment; they did it on purpose to irritate people like me so they won. Go for their take on violets, Tuca Tuca, Vanillary (try it then wait 20 minutes as it takes it times to turn into something beautiful) and their pure lovely Orange Blossom; for once, a scent with a straightforward name. Then explore the more unusual ventures like Breath of God, with its five stars for originality, The Smell of Weather Turning and LadyBoy, as unusual a fruity floral as you'll ever find.
While they're sorting out their hacked website, visit their temporary home; you'll find the link hiding right at the bottom of the home page at Lush. They might shoot themselves in both feet sometimes by behaving like troublesome two-year-olds, but Lush's scents are too lovely to miss; go get some.