We’re so back.

I’ve met some new perfume friends, and the vibe has shifted. Perfume talk is fun again.

This is a group of awesome individuals with diverse and eclectic tastes. I’m usually hesitant to try other people’s faves because what if I don’t like them? But several people kept asking me if I’d tried Arquiste, and I hadn’t. After reminding everyone that I’m a tough audience, I ordered samples and smelled them without looking at notes or marketing. People were so excited to hear my impressions, which was a bit daunting.

Once upon a time, I was a person who was just beginning to explore perfume, and many scents excited me. As we acquire more points of comparison, we naturally become more discriminating; it will happen to anyone who sticks around long enough. Nobody wants to be Madame Party Pooper, but we can’t love everything. At this old age, if you ask me what I think, I’m going to tell you.

Each person in the group was extraordinarily graceful upon hearing my opinions, which is really refreshing. It’s not personal if I don’t like the perfume that you like. We can be sure that I have perfumes you don’t like. (Hell, I even have perfumes that I don’t like.) It’s okay to say that you dislike a perfume, in fact, it’s admirable. The industry needs our feedback. Everybody “loving” everything got us into this mess where there are hundreds of forgettable perfumes released every year.

L’Or de Louis (Rodrigo Flores-Roux)

Very “modern bridal,” as in “orange blossom for a VSCO girl.” She’s trying so hard to look like she doesn’t try hard. It’s a shy orange blossom undermined by something tart, permeated by the unsettling aroma of burned grease on the barbecue grill grates. People described this as “skanky” — to me that has pleasant connotations that this does not resemble. The base is a hand-soap musk, which is overwhelming at times. When the orange blossom faded there was a period where it legitimately smelled just like trying to scrub off umpteen layers of baked-on grease with Ivory Dishwashing Liquid. Sweet jasmine arrived to save it from being a compulsory scrubber but it isn’t something that I would ever wear.

Later someone linked a rather long explanation from the brand of the concept and backstory (with references!); thus my four-word review of L’Or de Louis: all sizzle, no steak.

Indigo Smoke (Calice Becker)

This is the crowd favorite, and the one that started the whole Arquiste discussion. It was described to me as a Lapsang Souchong perfume. I happen to love Lapsang Souchong, and I was expecting this perfume to be smoky. This is more like a Necco Wafer of Lapsang Souchong, so I had to recalibrate my expectations.

The perfume is puzzling. Something in it is cinnamic and I don’t really like that as a matter of personal taste. It smells like prophy paste, that stuff they use to polish your teeth at the dentist. This aspect of it waxes and wanes but sadly is always present.

At times I think the Indigo Smoke smells clay-like and flinty. Occasionally I get a whiff of something acrid, like burning MDF. I don’t get a lot of smokiness from it and while it’s not exactly “not tea,” it doesn’t speak tea in my language. Both of these underneath feel very Francesca Bianchi in that they are carried by orris aromachemicals, the rooty-papery kind that remind you of warm skin.

There were moments where Indigo Smoke’s minerality was compelling; it smelled like some sort of fancy art supplies that I would definitely want to use. There was also a point where it went in a phenolic direction which smelled like I had sprayed glass cleaner on my arm. I didn’t ever hate it outright, and at times I even appreciated it, but in a detached way. This is something that, ten years ago, I might have been drawn to because of its quirkiness. Since then I’ve learned that novelty has an extremely short shelf-life.

Aleksandr (Yann Vasnier)

Hairspray? Bathroom cleaner? Calone? After the aldehydes and neroli dissipate it’s birch tar and sweaty palms. But then, from a different angle, it’s cantaloupe. Sweaty hands clutching a cantaloupe, with a waft of Bulgari Black. The cantaloupe fades rather quickly, and it was the most interesting part. If “blech” were a scent, this could be it. (I had been excited about this one because someone mentioned urine and a bear.)

Sydney Rock Pool (Rodrigo Flores-Roux)

I hate that I have to draw comparisons to the same other brand twice in one post, but this is Sex and the Sea Coconut. Same nostril-biting, throat-burning, tear-inducing smell. Sunburn in a bottle. I keep going back to smell it, because I could swear that at one point this was some kind of objet d’hype? Either I’m completely out of touch with modern tastes, or that was a paid influencer promotion. Hard pass.

Misfit (Rodrigo Flores-Roux)

I don’t even know where to start with this one. It’s like a soup made from rotting fruit and cotton candy in a rusty can. Remember Dolor? This could be its little sister. There’s patchouli dipped in melted plastic. Green peppercorns. Smoked cinnamon. Miasma. I wanted to scrub this so badly but felt duty-bound to try to wear it. After 90 minutes it bears an uncomfortable resemblance to Sydney Rock Pool. In fact, it could have been a flanker called “A Terrible Thing Happened on the Way to Sydney Rock Pool.”

Peau (Rodrigo Flores-Roux)

Diffusive scent of clary sage and pepper floating on an amberchem cloud. Three things that typically burn the nostrils but it was mercifully light. It belongs in the class with the ‘molecules’ and the anti-perfumes, which aren’t really my thing. I didn’t find it enjoyable to wear but I often feel the urge to scrub things in this genre; it never reached a level of true annoyance. YMMV.

Anima Dulcis (Rodrigo Flores-Roux and Yann Vasnier)

The name alone made me leery. I don’t like many sweet perfumes, and sweet perfumes are the norm in 2024. Any perfume with a “sweet” word in its name is immediately suspect, and I fully expected to be smacked across the face with a glob of cotton candy. I am pleased to report that the opening of this is quite intriguing – a savory, umami, spicy-sweetness like Hoisin sauce. There’s something pungent and earthy-green underneath. By the time the cocoa starts to really bloom I can’t even be mad at it. The spiciness reminds me of pounding dried smoked chiles in my mortar and pestle. There is some vanilla and cinnamon in the drydown, two things that can tank a perfume quickly for me, but they’re nicely restrained, and the floral-chypre base carries it well. It’s quite lovely, and I don’t say that about many gourmands.

The Architect’s Club (Yann Vasnier)

Juniper-vanilla lemon Pledge over woodamber that I found repulsive. Angelica, but it’s coated in acid and blistering your mucous membranes. It smells like using a noxious chemical to wash soot from the walls after a house fire. The urge to scrub was strong with this one. After two hours it reminds me of my memory of Guerlain Angélique Noire, but admittedly it has been a long time.

Nanban (Rodrigo Flores-Roux)

I’m not sure what this is supposed to be or where it’s trying to go. Styrax-coffee-safranal. Sweaty feet in moist shoes that were just sprayed with deodorizer. Grocery checkout aisle incense cones. This burns my eyes. It’s truly, physically unpleasant to wear. It fades to too much saffron-ish leather and labdanum. I honestly dislike everything about it.

Conclusions

Arquiste perfumes were interesting to smell and talk about. Other people in our group were trying them concurrently; some opinions were shared and others diverged. We laughed and commiserated and bonded, the shared experience was far more rewarding than it would have been solo. This could be a a good year to talk about perfume.

A special shout-out to Arquiste for having a Prevention Policy for COVID-19 posted on their website. It discusses not only the safe handling of customer packages, but also the use of personal protective equipment for their team’s health and safety. It’s possible that this is old information, but hopefully precautions to protect in-person workers have been continued. It has been disheartening to see how non-serious the perfume industry has been about a disease that can permanently take away people’s ability to smell, as well as have other lasting and devastating consequences. In stark contrast to over three years of seeing perfume industry professionals and influencers unmasked at large events, this is one of the few times that I’ve seen an entity in the industry address COVID safety measures publicly.