I occasionally get comments here on my blog, and because they’re relatively rare and very sporadic, I haven’t always been the best at responding. In this review, I’m going to say a few things that might elicit some comments, or even spark a discussion, so I will try to respond more consistently. I would like to point out to everyone that the comment box is at the bottom of each page, if you scroll all the way down, just in case you’ve never noticed it before! I will also be introducing this topic on instagram, so we’ll see if any discussion ensues there.
Harem Rose is an Eau de Parfum from Australian brand Fort & Manlé, released in 2017. The perfumer is Rasei Fort.
This is another rose perfume that I bought long ago and wore maybe once or twice. It’s been languishing at the back of a shelf since, so I’ll give it a quick review and then find it a more loving home.
First of all, let me just get out of the way the brand’s completely cringeworthy description, still on their website as of today (04/20/2021):
A wispy soft sensual cloud of musk envelops the secluded chambers of the Sultans’ Harem.
The exotic beauty of the concubines is enhanced by the sweet animalic notes of Amber and Benzoin, as they meticulously prepare themselves for the Sultans’ call in the hope to arouse and entice the discerning one.
The combining scents of warm rich Vanilla and the intoxicating Damascene Rose heightens the mood of sensuality in the quarters.
The velvety Cashmere aroma invites intrigue. It is carnality at its finest. The warmth of a fireplace is provided by Woods and the green crisp earthiness of Vetiver which brings a grounding substance to the sweet floral blanket.
Ughhh….. Had I started by looking at the website, I would have never purchased this perfume.
Anyway.
Fort and Manlé was one of those brands that very briefly excited me a few years ago.
Somehow, I got ahold of Fatih Sultan Mehmed, and it was like — “what if Traversée du Bosphore and a Solis Rex candle had a baby, yo?” And, I was into that at the time.
So, I did the most unreasonable thing, and also blind-bought a bottle of Harem Rose. And a bottle of Charlatan. And a discovery set.
Long story short, when I started going through the ten scents in the discovery set, nearly all of them smelled like they were constructed from the same base, or at least very similar materials. They all dry down to something quite reminiscent of one another. Viewed as a whole line, they smell like a set of flankers to each other. And, this makes every one of them drastically and irretrievably less appealing to me. After figuring this out, I lost all interest in wearing any of the perfumes.
So, Harem Rose smells like extra-deep cerise-hued Damask rose petals, with saffron, beeswax, and vetiver. It’s dry and dusty, like waxy rose votive candles sitting in an old bowl of rose potpourri. Initially it’s spicy and a bit melodramatic in tone (which I like), although it sits rather close to the skin, and begins to unravel almost immediately. The rose fades rather quickly, which is a pity, and after two hours the perfume mostly just smells like the ambery-musky base. For some reason, the base (across the whole line) reminds me of purple velour (it smells very faux-purple to me) and it lasts FOR-EVER. This purplish musky-amber-vanillic-benzoin thing, that persists into the next day, just serves to remind me that the part of the perfume that makes it interesting and unique from the others is short-lived.
You could do much worse for a perpetual musk, but the idea of selling an entire line of perfumes that turn into a close version of this, at $4 (USD) per mL, kind of infuriates me. If I had just bought one, and remained blissfully ignorant of the others (and the fetishy product description of the exotic concubines), I might have enjoyed it more.
Beyond just this particular brand, this is a topic that I think is open to debate — what is a “signature accord” versus a line of scents that suffer from lazy conceptualization and construction, or are otherwise poorly differentiated from one another? (Sometimes, especially in a brand’s infancy, this may be a matter of budget; to which I would argue, produce less total but more unique scents). What is the line between recognizing “Guerlainade” across the classics, and these perfume lines that seem like the same pizza with different toppings? When perfumers “LOVE” a certain material, or use the same musk or aromachemical over and over to the point where it becomes recognizable/predictable, is this endearing, or does it detract from your enjoyment of the brand?