Scentzilla!

As a scent experiment, I find S-ex quirky and interesting. As a perfume? Not so much.

The overriding notes on me are Sharpie markers and tightly stretched leather. I perceive tiny little hints of stringy kelp and softened water, however they don’t get much play. The Sharpie marker note is particularly off-putting for wear. S-ex is nicely weird for a perfume, but I seriously don’t know anyone who wants to smell like that. At all. I think Christophe Laudamiel deserves high marks for creating something new and unusual from an old note like leather, for sure. But no one will likely catch me wearing his creation.

The company S-Perfume is the brainchild of artist Nobi S-, who utilizes the skills of various perfumers to create the company’s scents. There is an openness at S-Perfumes about which perfumer made which scent, and if you click on each scent, it will list the name of that perfumer as a hyperlink, which you can further click to read a resume of other perfumes that person is credited with. I love that. I wish other companies would take heed.

I’d like to take a moment to comment on the packaging for the wee atomizers for Jet-Scent. The bottles are imprinted with an “s” shaped sperm, and the words “for surfers.” Well. Gross. Maybe I just have a filthy mind, but I’m sure I don’t have to be explicit in describing what I instantly imagine is the kind of surfing that seems to imply. Is it a joke? Is it not? I honestly am unsure.

Both Jet-Scent and the version of it called S-Perfume list a “spirit of life” note. Seriously? “Spirit of life?!” Oh, barf. I sure hope that’s a joke, too.

Some scents scream at you, some use an indoor voice, some manage to stage-whisper. These perfumes? Are disembodied voices from another room.

Now then, I’ll move on to the Alberto Morillas created ‘fume itself, which wears much like an eau de toilette. Jet-Scent opens with a saline blast. And as that evaporates, the fragrance next takes me back to a workshop I used to work in making picture frames. After spending just an hour at the miter saw I’d be enveloped in wood-hazed air, smelling the particulates of the fresh dust and the layers of newly exposed wood. It’s really the particular sort of smell you’d find in any woodworking shop. Next I smell this accord that is almost like a salad of wild baby greens and chopped herbs. But it’s somehow different, and more raw than that. It’s one of those smells I think I “know” but can’t quite place. Jet-Scent throws off sillage with these notes, but it’s mixed with traces of something that smells like a hair salon, and a note that reminds me of the putty we used to fill the joins of our frames. Despite the description from S-Perfumes, I really get no musk from this scent at all, and the vanilla is particularly indirect to the point of being mostly imperceptible. I’d describe this scent as salty, woody, dusty, and green.

Of all the S-Perfumes, Jet-Scent would be my favorite, but sadly it’s too faint and distant on my skin to warrant a purchase. Well, not that I could anyhow. Jet-Scent isn’t available for purchase online, and I only received it because it came with my samples.

First photo of Jet-Scent bottle. Second photo taken this afternoon of a trail of jet exhaust against the sun. Music clip is from “Disembodied Voices” by the Finn Bros. off their Everyone is Here album.

S-Perfume (the scent, not the whole company) is an amped up version of Jet-Scent. The remix of Alberto Morillas’ original is credited to Christophe Laudamiel. While it is indeed more strongly concentrated, it wears mostly like an eau de parfum than a parfum on me. The greens that were salad-ish in Jet-Scent predominate the remix, and feel somewhat darker to me here. The woody sawdust that floats in the air with Jet-Scent take a backseat to the herbally greens. I still get sillage of hair salon and framing putty (when I chance to catch whiffs of my own, that is.) But I miss the wood a lot, and if anything I prefer to layer this with Jet-Scent to create a slightly monochromatic depth, and to bump up from the poorer staying power of Jet-Scent used alone. Of course, I don’t think everyone will possess the same sentimentatlity for a haze of wood dust that I do. Consequently, I might suggest ordering a sample of S-Perfume, which also comes with a small spritzer of Jet-Scent so you can try them both at the same time.

Photo taken of part of lunch today.

Here’s a random sampling of but a few things I don’t understand:

• “Natural Cheetos.” Once you remove all the unnatural parts, what does that leave? A bag of air?
• The retail phrase “pre-order.” I am paying now, in an arrangement to receive the item at some later date. Sounds suspiciously like a plain old “order” to me.
• Why Samourai bears this appellation.

I imagine some noble or even brave fragrance when I hear “Samourai.” Or something uniquely Japanese. This scent is… none of those.

It’s a watery cousin to Givenchy’s Xeryus Rouge. Xeryus Pink?

Now that’s not to say it isn’t nice. It is. It’s cuddly and sweet. There’s a pepper here that starts red, and then goes all baby pink, with layers of jasmine, bland ghostly bergamot, musk, cedar, and a drydown that is slightly vanillic with lots of sandalwood.

I’m not keen on most celebrity fragrances (the exception being Alan Cumming’s Cumming.) Still. I was hoping for something less middling from Alain Delon’s company since they have been at the perfume business for some time now.

I recommend this fragrance for fuzzy teddy bears who are just too durned cute to commit an act of hara-kiri to atone for the shame they bring upon the name Samourai.

Xeryus Rouge is a favorite of mine. I crave it.

Its featured red pepper is impeccably done. It’s crisp, vibrant, and lasts more or less through the whole life of the fragrance. It’s a palpable note: I can almost hear the snap of it as I spray.

The eau de toilette opens brightly on this red pepper, as well as a deep cedar. With my body heat, smokey green herbs and vetiver rise up alongside a juicy note that makes the others seem “wet.” I suppose this wet juiciness is the so-called kumquat, but I couldn’t really say. Reminds me more of starfruit, if anything. I’m reading about a whole host of other off-the-wall notes attributed to this fragrance, but really what I perceive IS vetiver. It’s quite like the one implemented in Givenchy Pour Homme. The vetiver I smell casts shadows, and hints at unlit corners. Propping up all this is a virile base of dark clean musk, and what I think is a dab of vanilla. I don’t notice the vanilla until the very end, and I’ve guessed in the past that it may be here to serve as a fixative.

Xeryus Rouge is a very good fragrance. It’s justthisclose to being a great fragrance, but I’m not sure what exactly might be missing to help this make the hurdle to great. However, it’s dead sexy, distinctive, and most importantly, memorable.

Image is from gallery at klubphoto.pl.

Ungaro’s Desnuda eau de parfum is one of those fragrances that wear a bit differently on me depending on how I apply it. It is overall a VERY sweet floral-fruity oriental.

When I dab or splash it on, I get this fantastic spicy cinnamon opening. The red pepper heart lingers mouthwateringly on me right through to the finish. I also get a lovely peach from it, and sandalwood and vanilla complete the drydown.

When I spray Desnuda, there is only but slight spice that fades quickly. I get a ton of saccarine-sweet powder through the whole scent when I spray. Yet when I dab it on, the powder seems subdued. The red pepper is still there, but it becomes hidden behind a more prominent sharp rose note, and of course, behind the powder. The sprayed drydown is similar, with vanillic sandalwood.

I don’t care for the eau de toilette version, as the powder and rose seem to overtake the red pepper and vanilla no matter how it’s applied. Desnuda has been discontinued, but it can be easily located at online stores.

Helmut Lang’s Cuiron paints a portrait in monochrome. It is comprised of successive layers of leather. But not any old leather. Or rather, it IS old leather - the smell of an antique book pulled off the shelf, an old black jacket hanging off the back of a chair, a soft suede purse that’s only pulled out on special occasions, a well-worn chair that’s seen better days but is still the comfiest one in the house. Thus, Cuiron manages to be rather non-acidic for a leather scent. It hugs very closely to my skin, as well. A skin leather scent, perhaps?

The fragrance does open up with a twinge of bitter fruit and white pepper. (Unlike white musk, I can knowledgeably state that white pepper is a definable item. I use it white sauces and cream soups to prevent my food from being speckled by black pepper.)

And this top layer shifts down into a note that smells like a gasoline stained rag. Weirdly, I like that.

Slowly, subtly, the different dimensions of the leather reveal themselves. Underpinning the leather is a genteel musk note.

I wonder if perhaps the monochrome character of Cuiron might not prove to be dull to some people. One person’s “subtle” can be another’s “boring.” And yet I also wonder if the gas rag and pepper might not prove too sharp and alienating to others.

For a while I was layering this cologne with a soliflor jasmine eau de toilette or Stella McCartney’s Stella to femme it up. But now? Just gimme the straight stuff, thanks: I don’t want anything to inturrupt it.

Cuiron is, from all reports, discontinued, and one rumor has it that it is because of disputes between Lang and Unilever (they distribute his fragrance line.) I think the only real problem this fragrance has is that a lot of consumers have never heard of it. I certainly hadn’t, until I saw it on clearance from Sephora for five bucks. It was a “aw, what the hell” sort of a purchase, and it turned out to be a lucky one. Cuiron can still be found through online discount retailers thankfully. Insofar as I know, Cuiron is only produced in cologne strength.

Picture above is Leather Pool in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming.

You can smell the crunch of autumn leaves in L’eau de Figue right from the get-go. Smokey dry leaves are scattered all across this fragrance. Fused into the core are wine-stewed figs and a decidedly strong green rind note. All these parts are sewn together into a whole that is seamless and well-made. That surprised me, because the only other Mathias scent I tried, the Tuberose, was forgettable. (I say forgettable because I’ve tried it four different times, and still couldn’t tell you a thing about it.) L’eau de Figue is a worthwhile fragrance to seek out if you are a fig lover. Maybe even if you’re not a fig lover, for that matter - it’s quite interesting. I bet this would make a great room fragrance. It lasts on my skin for about four hours before I feel like I need to refresh it some.

Dessert. This is fig as a dessert. I’m inclined to compare Bendel’s Wild Fig to a Fig Newton. It’s caramelized fructose and fig pulp wrapped up by a vanilla cookie. Yummy, right? It strikes me as a warm comfort-food scent. Alas, it’s just not a perfect fit for me. It starts out with a noticably sour twang, and I notice that again towards the end of wear, too. I don’t think, however, that will be the experience for everyone. For example, I’ve read some people on the perfume boards complaining of powder, and I happen to get zero powder from Wild Fig. Staying power for all the perfumes I’ve tried from the Bendel line is poor, and this is no exception. I get an hour, maybe two tops. Still, it’s worth a look-sniff if sweet frags tend to act with tenacity on you. And if you like dessert.

Escential Lotions & Oils is a fun shop to visit, and I admittedly possess some local bias with regards to them. The great appeal of Escential’s perfume oils for me, besides being made by my hometown perfumers, is their affordability and excellent staying power.

With their take on “fig,” they’ve captured the smell of fig preserves (like the kind you’d spread on toast.) If you’ve never eaten fig preserves, the smell is approximate to a cross between homemade white grape juice concentrate and a late harvest Riesling. The green fig is appropriately sweet and tangy, but I perceive a real creaminess here, too.

Just as you might imagine, this is not a terribly complex perfume, but I enjoy layering it with other perfume oils, including Escential’s Nag Champa. A mix to which I sometimes add a smidge of Helmut Lang’s parfum or Escential’s Vanilla Amber Musk. It is a little too easy to go nuts with layering though, since these oils tend to be quite potent. Something I learned the hard way when one day I nearly suffocated everyone that came near me and my inadvisable perfume overdose. Ooops. I unfortunately turn into a crazy cat lady sometimes with my perfume layering - one more can’t hurt, can it? And then before you know it, the whole thing becomes a crowded stinky mess. This is why I need to leave the art and science of perfumery to the professionals.

So, uh, Escential’s Fig: For me, it’s probably the easiest to wear out of the three figs from today, due to it’s clean simplicity. It’s not remarkable like the Mathias, or cozy like the Bendel, but still… nice.

To visit Escential’s online site, click here, or to be carried directly to their Fig, click here.