she is a woody floral fragrance from House of Matriarch, created by Christi Meshell and released in 2018.

she is described as “an androgynous creation that was also made to celebrate powerful femininity.” The fragrance was released on March 8, 2018, to coincide with International Women’s Day.

she was a bit of a collaboration between House of Matriarch and beauty vlogger and artist Kristin West, also known as BeautyMeow. Kristin created the art that accompanies the fragrance, and provided input at different stages as Christi was working on the perfume. I’m sure there is more to the story, but I’ve been intentionally avoiding reading or watching other people’s reactions to the scent until I’ve finished my own writing about it.

Because I pre-ordered the fragrance, I received a little signed print of the artwork, which is really cool. It’s a funky and stylized depiction of Beyoncé, with flowy golden hair and triple-Goddess moon forehead ornament, and she’s holding a cosmic lemon. (Previously Christi has created collaborations with other people by creating the scent of their inspiration. The one that I’ve tried is Destrier, inspired by Game of Thrones, which I also own and love.)

THE BLIND-BUY PREORDER

I have to admit that I pre-ordered my 50 mL bottle of House of Matriarch’s brand new release, she, out of sheer curiosity. Perhaps even morbid curiosity. I came across the list of notes and was like, “whoa, whaaaat?”

First of all, it’s a fragrance built around lemongrass. I love lemongrass “in real life,” but never-have-I-ever smelled a lemongrass-forward fragrance that I enjoyed. Secondly, it’s not even a spicy lemongrass fragrance, it’s SWEET, and — it’s full of OUD. Thirdly, this is House of Matriarch, there will be deep, fuming incense.

I almost didn’t pull the trigger. But then, I remembered that I was shopping House of Matriarch to buy a second bottle of Forbidden, something that I’ve been wearing for five years, and I still don’t understand how it works as a fragrance, it just does. Equal parts art and magic, I suppose.

VINTAGE LEMONGRASS FROM ZANZIBAR

One of the things that drew me in to commit to a preorder was the statement about the lemongrass. It was referred to as “precious 1970’s vintage lemongrass from Zanzibar.”

My reptilian brain is triggered by the word “vintage” as though smelling vintage things is essential to my survival. If something is vintage, its quantity is limited. What if I have to live the rest of my life knowing that something existed, but having no idea what it smelled like? Well, I can’t let that happen. I preordered the fragrance, and my mind conjured scent images of Zanzibar in the 1970’s, a time when everything in the world smelled less sanitized and hypoallergenic….

To be totally honest, I had many more moments of walking around my house singing “lemongrass from Zanzibar” with a flourish, à la Titus Andromedon’s “Peeno Noir”. In fact, every time I’ve applied this fragrance, I’ve whispered “pinot noir, Zan-zi-bar!” quietly to myself, and it makes me a little bit giddy. Zanzibar didn’t actually make it into the song, but it totally should have. Here’s a fun fact if you’re a fan of the show — did you know that the entire song was an on-the-spot improvisation by Titus Burgess?

So, that connection alone should be enough joy and intrigue for me. But then I ran across this little nugget on the House of Matriarch website: lemongrass and oud are mildly narcotic/psychoactive and foster connection with The Divine. 

Now, I’ve been a fan of House of Matriarch from the beginning. I’ve spent a lot of time on that website, and I’ve gotten some pretty cool discounts thanks to sales celebrating solar and lunar events. Most people would see this statement, chalk it up to #ThatsSoChristi, and go on with their day. But regular readers of my reviews know that my curiosity won’t just let go of something like that until I’ve discovered WHY.

LEMONGRASS IS TRIPPY (kind of)

The genus name for lemongrass is Cympogon. It is a perennial grass that grows in tropical, subtropical, and temperate climates. It originated in central and western Africa, and since the 18th century has been transplanted throughout Central and South America and southern Asia.

Ethnograpic research in 1918 found that people in central Africa have used lemongrass as a psychoactive substance for centuries. The researcher Newbould (1918) found that the Tanganyika tribe’s shaman and witch doctors would use lemongrass to induce vivid dreams which were interpreted as prophecies. The medicine men in the tribe would use lemongrass to produce “elevated states of intoxication,” in order to visualize the proper diagnosis and treatments for their patients. They achieved this primarily by smoking dried lemongrass with tobacco (sometimes they would add another psychoactive plant called Kanna).

It turns out that lemongrass produces psychoactive alkaloids. A group of researchers found that the pharmacologic sedative actions of lemongrass essential oil are similar to that of benzodiazepines, acting on the same GABA receptors, and reversible with flumazenil (a specific reversal agent for benzodiazepines).

I wanted to find the specific compound in lemongrass that produces these GABAergic effects. The major compounds of lemongrass essential oil are citral (a mixture of the cis- (neral) and trans- (geranial) isomers), myrcene, and geraniol. Other studies on these compounds suggest that the overall effect is due to synergistic effects of the compounds, and can’t be contributed to a single constituent. Bummer. I wanted to see how this works chemically, at the cellular level.

Some of the ways that medicine men use lemongrass are for anxiety relief, as a diuretic, as a nasal remedy for sinus blockage, and as a topical preparation to ease symptoms of arthritis. Some of the effects noted in scientific field reports about lemongrass use describe euphoria, states of deep relaxation, vivid dreams, lucid dreams, and sleepwalking.

The amount of lemongrass essential oil that produces these dramatic effects is huge compared to what we encounter in daily life. So it’s safe to eat your Tom Yum soup, drink reasonable amounts of lemongrass tea, and wear as much House of Matriarch she as you like, without turning into sleepwalking Pluto.

she FRAGRANCE REVIEW

She opens up with a strikingly tart, sharp lemon, somehow enveloped in a sweet vanilla-sugar crust. It’s such a wonderfully nostalgic smell, the sweet sourness of my childhood. That’s not meant to be a metaphor for some sort of tough, underprivileged upbringing — I’m talking about the actual sweet sourness of Lemonheads candy.

If you’re not familiar with Lemonheads, they’re sort of like a Meyer lemon was involved in a freak accident that granted it superpowers, and went on to save the planet. The superpowers? Making your mouth pucker and smile at the same time. As a kid, I loved biting into their soft, chewy, over-the-top tart lemon coating — they’re so extra, just like me.

The Lemonhead experience, sweet as it is, is shortlived. Lemonheads turn to lemon blossoms, as the beautiful lemongrass blends with white flowers, verbena, and beeswax. Lemon blossoms are symbolic of fidelity and faithfulness, and one of my very favorite floral smells. They smell bright, uplifting, and joyful.

For years I’ve kept a lemon tree in a big pot. In the summer it can be outside, but during these cold Midwestern winters, it has to come indoors, and lives on my heated porch. The tree blooms year-round, and I adore the smell of its blossoms when I am entering or leaving my house. The smell of lemon blossoms in she is similar, but has an added air of intrigue and sophistication due to its underpinning of oud. The oud in she is ever-present. It is the smooth, medicinal, meditative type, with no barnyards or band-aids in sight.

The lemon blossom accord with oud is an unexpected and truly lovely combination. I would have been happy enough with just that. But about an hour in, the magic really begins. The vanilla, which is particularly heady and ethereal, is joined by the rising smoky aroma of lapsang souchong, a smoked tea.

People who are familiar with House of Matriarch will not be surprised that there is some smoldering, balsamic incense in the mix as well, but it is really restrained. The distinctive smoky, tarry aspects of lapsang souchong really shine through. The rich darkness of the tea, against the lightness of the lemon blossom and vanilla, is just sublime. This is exactly what I hoped the fragrance would smell like. More of that art + magic.

This smoked tea and lemon blossom nirvana lasts for about three hours. The florals have faded a bit, but the essence of the lemongrass is still present. Some lactones along with the vanilla invoke a feeling of sweet cream. The fragrance becomes very grounding and soothing, like a perfect cup of tea with milk. The lemongrass keeps it from becoming too heavy. The oud adds to its contemplative nature. I have to admit, I’m smitten.

After four hours, the lemongrass and lemon blossom are gone. The cozy lapsang souchong and sweet vanilla milk persists for two more hours, over a heart of oud. At the six hour mark, oud is still detectable but I’m craving the drydown and have to reapply.

During the second wearing I noticed the vanilla in the drydown even more than the first. The lapchang souchong and vanilla suggest this sort of comforting intimacy and warmth. I fell asleep inhaling this snuggly hot, milky tea aroma, and dreaming of a day when I might collaborate with Christi to see one of my perfume inspirations come to life by her magic (spoiler alert — it’s a baby goat drinking milk).

FINAL IMPRESSIONS

I love she. I love everything about it. Just two days ago I was saying that I rarely sample new oud fragrances anymore, because they’ve become a bit of a trope in my opinion. House of Matriarch’s she is a shining example of a loving and unique use of this marvelous natural ingredient. Not as an afterthought or a marketing ploy, but in a way that showcases a different aspect of its natural beauty.

As for the vintage lemongrass, it was definitely worth the price of admission. The use of lemongrass, instead of just citrus oils, allows the delightful brightness and sharpness to shine throughout the composition instead of burning off after the first hour.

Longevity on me was about seven hours. The lemongrass/lemon blossom aspect of the fragrance is gone after four. This is still a remarkable persistence for a citrus accord, and for a natural or mostly-natural perfume (as all of House of Matriarch’s offerings are). Sillage was low to low-moderate, which adds to its charm in my opinion. (I have Forbidden for days when I want to set my fragrance to “stun”).

Although this is a fragrance that is celebrating the power of femininity, it is perfectly unisex and would smell delicious on both men and women. If I smelled this on someone in the wild, I would want to know more about it.

Perfumer’s listed notes are: 1970’s vintage Zanzibari lemongrass, natural white floral melange, vanilla sugar, lemon verbena, beeswax, bergamot, smoked teas, lactones, black copal, broom, artisan-distilled Malaysian agarwood, guaiac, Tolu balsam, and ambrette.

She is an EdP (I believe), and available for $330 per 50 mL bottle at matriarch.biz.