Fat Electrician (2009)

Fat Electrician by Etat Libre d'Orange
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Fat Electrician is a perfume by Etat Libre d'Orange for men and was released in 2009. The scent is spicy-woody. It is still in production.

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Fragrance Notes

Myrrh, Chestnut cream, Olive leaf, Opoponax, Vanilla, Vetiver

Ratings

Scent

7.4 (165 Ratings)

Longevity

7.6 (127 Ratings)

Sillage

6.2 (123 Ratings)

Bottle

6.8 (115 Ratings)
Submitted by TVC15, last update on 10.09.2019
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Reviews

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Schoork

0 Reviews
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Schoork
Schoork
Greatly helpful Review    39
Listen who's banging
What is the name of the best do-it-yourself show in the world?

-TOOL TIME-

That's right Binford Tools presents Tim Taylor, the do-it-yourself king! Whohoooo!!!

"Thank you Heidi and welcome to Tool Time. I am Tim Taylor the do-it-yourself king and next to me is my assistant Allo Flanello AL Borland."

Hello! Our greetings today go to the....electricians!

"Right AL. It's insane that the crew of Space Shuttle Columbia was here last week."
And whether, especially after you've tried to steal on the Endeavour tool.
"Stolen? I borrowed it if I ever wanted to take my family to the gas giant. That's Jupiter, not your mother."

We have here today a transformer which we will connect to this train to demonstrate you how an electric train works.

"Exactly AL and so that they don't get bored, I improved the transformer a little."
You didn't do him a hair, did you? "Oh nonsense, I just connected it to the Binford 6000 voltage field generator to get more power. Double amps, double fun! We'll rock any station with it!"

And this is the moment we've all been waiting for.

"Right, Al's gonna take off his flannel briefs and sumo wrestling with his mother... May the best man win. Hähähähäh"

I don't believe it. Tim.

"Tell me AL, what does it smell like? Is the month over already, have you had a shower?"

No, Tim, I'm wearing a suitable perfume for the show today. A fragrance which my mother gave me and which smells very unusual after Vetiver.

"AL, the most masculine scent is 15w40 when I screw around my hotrod in the garage, right? A man doesn't need perfume!"

I don't think so, Tim. I think it smells very nice, it starts creamy with a hint of vanilla with some spicy myrrh accompanied with vetiver, which gives the whole a slightly gourmand touch. Something smoke and something alcoholic are in the air. Reminds me remotely of Ombre Noire of Lalique. Vetiver then becomes much stronger, but without standing alone. Stops pretty good at me without getting on other people's nerves.

"That's what you're saying! Great AL, what's your great scent called?"

Fat Electrician!

"Hähähähä and you got that from your mother? Why not? You guys shave together! So AL, before you get any more flowery I'll switch on the transformer."

*FUMP*

"AL? Heidi? Who turned out the lights? Hello? Where's the train? That's it for today people, we'll get back to you as soon as we have electricity again"

At home at the garden fence...
"Wilson, are you naked?"
No Tim, I'm wearing a ski helmet.
"Are you going skiing?"
Yeah, I don't know if you already know, I'm a biathlete.
"Hey, what they do behind closed doors is nobody's business."
Wilson: Well, actually, we do it outdoors.
"Häää?"
You look sad my dear Tim.
"Do men have to wear perfume? I mean, don't we smell good by nature?"
By no means TIm, even the ancient Egyptians used fragrances as inspiration, for embalming and rituals. A scent is like a cocoon from which someone slips as a caterpillar and feels like a butterfly. In winter as in summer.
"Does that mean you can lift your spirits with it? I always thought if I smelled of wood because I painted the planks, that would do it. AL had a perfume on it in the last show, it smelled good, an unsweet vetiver scent that kept the rehearsals and the show long. It looked good on him, was manly, but his mother must be wearing it, too. It was warm and a little herbaceous."

Perfume is a complex thing and a men like women thing.

"Thanks, Wilson. Mmmh, you're frying Spear-Rips?"
No, I'll grill some pears.
"60 or 40 watts?"

Next broadcast...
"AL before we wire the transformer, I want you to know that you smell good today."

Thank you Tim.

"I don't know if they knew it, dear spectators, but even the ancient Egyptians knew that if you can't get a caterpillar through winter, the butterfly is ugly in summer! That's where all the scent pyramids come from."

What?

"Your scent goes very well with you, I think I'll get one too, but it'll smell different. Something with a lot of wood, gas or something. Maybe the new Binford 3000 Man Extreme. A fragrance like yours, which smells very strongly of herbs and vetiver accompanied with slightly sweet speckled is beautiful, but in the long run nothing for me. It fits very well on flannel AL."

Okay, let's go ahead and connect the transformer?

"Right, we need to ground ourselves first and connect the right cable. For this it is important to know which cable is used for grounding."

You know that!

"Of course, I'm not stupid. That's the... yellow! Because the sun is yellow and shines on the earth. Sure thing! Hauhauhauhau"

*BRITZZZZZEL*

"And now we're all...huh.,,,,, one of us smokes a lot here!"
21 Replies
6.0 7.0 8.0/10
Stanze

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Stanze
Stanze
Greatly helpful Review    21
In Denmark women smoke cigars
"In Denmark, women smoke cigars," explained my childhood friend (then). And because Danish women were our role models for some reason I forgot, we tried (in vain) to smoke a cigar. Since that was too disgusting, we tried whistling. And because that wasn't better either, we tried perfumed pipe tobacco. Vanilla pipe tobacco smells totally good (except for the smoker himself). Smoking him is a waste.

On the official website there is again a very nice soundfile in which a medieval man, who claims to be a random user of the perfume, explains that he is the fat electrician. Sounds authentic.

"Fat Electrician" starts very short alcoholic sweet-spicy smoky like Islay Whisky (not like Bourbon Whiskey). Then the good man lights himself a pipe. It doesn't smell so much like smoke, but it does smell like vanilla pipe tobacco. I like Vetiver pretty much anyway. But this vetiver is almost gourmandig. Great.

The shelf life is good, at least 7 hours, maybe more. The projection is mediocre. "Fat Electrician" is also suitable for older women. And of course for men, it was also tested on Tester M. You can always wear "Fat Electrician" (except for sports). The fat electrician himself must wear it when he goes to football games.

I don't know if I dare wear it at work yet. When I wore "Itinerario Olfattivo I" the other day, a colleague asked why it smells "like aftershave" here. And Itinerario Olfattivo I doesn't smell of aftershave at all. My colleagues have very firm ideas about what women are allowed to smell.
6 Replies
8.0 7.0 9.0 8.5/10
Augusto

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Augusto
Augusto
Greatly helpful Review    11
Fatty Vetiver - please open this electrician's door when he rings!
Spray Fat Electrician on and Vetiver full. Hhmmm, this green, somewhat austere freshness, the wood, this peculiar smell that cannot be compared to any other. And an unusually bright, almost cheerful tone that makes AugustA sit up and take notice, perhaps it's the myrrh.

But this vetiver also begins with a peculiar sweetness. Sweetie, reminiscent of chocolate, of nougat maybe. Well, all right, chestnut cream, olive leaf, opoponx, vanilla, if it's already there. I'm not really a Gormand lover at all, but this top note has a grandiose melodiousness and makes the eyelids flutter a little. Beautifully done, very beautifully, if a Vetiver arrives times over this sweet side. It's clearly a vetiver to spray on, but unlike the classic and the new vetivers, it doesn't come into the nose from the very green or from the grapefruit. Which is beautiful, admittedly, but has a very different character. This one here begins very flattering by the sweetness, is tasty, pleasant and elicits at the same time this liberated breathing, as it is strange for the vetiver, I think, as an effect.

The scent is also somehow not so superficial, on the contrary. But, hello: After five to fifteen minutes the fragrance then suddenly fluctuates quite violently in the classic masculine vetiver compartment that you know where the vetiver hammer hangs, namely: here comes no sweet treat, and I think: a pity! Because that opening chord was so tempting. But now he digs the water from the Encre Noir from my nose-view very sensationally for a short time, then in the intensity also from the Malle Vetiver. In short, without reaching this massiveness.
And then he lies down on my skin. And stays there for a long time, which I very much welcome.

And softening. Still a hint of sweet and nutty. The fragrance oscillates between a vetiver-flavored spread (igitt, bizarre - how delicious...) and the green green sweet grass with its cooling and for me always simply root-himmlischen qualities. The sweet impression disappears, flies by, soon it is forgotten. The woody lush grass comes, rises fragrantly from the ground to the sky and disappears to give room to the nutty nuance again.
For me, that's the ingenious thing about this fragrance - it does it very playfully and yet still smells seriously good. Cloud by cloud, change by change.

He plays around with some unfamiliar nuances, even a little coquettish and tickle creeps in every now and then, but above all and exclusively remains a vetiver scent. No citrus, no flowers. In one moment it's almost a little too dark for me, maybe something for autumn. Then again the austere freshness, the woodiness, which brings a certain moisture and lightness, so that the fragrance appears completely transparent.

Beautiful, no question, and also somehow cheeky for an established and actually very serious (men's) fragrance classic. At the first test strangely not too exciting after the first hours - and the next - and then after 8 hours...and then I went to bed sometime. In the second test, I followed the games more willingly with my nose and now find it very exciting. And, as I said, it smells really long and very good all the time. It's always swaying back and forth between standard vetiver, even if it's modern, and the just so decisive little bit different. Nothing you just put away after trying the first one. I think that's a clear recommendation. For Vetiver fans always.

P.S.: And the name is great anyway. But nobody cares, it's the scent that counts, right? If you do, just have a look at the clip.
P.P.S.: Who of the ladies loves Vetiver - he makes himself very well on woman skin - this electrician please absolutely open the door when he rings...!
4 Replies
WildGardener

100 Reviews
WildGardener
WildGardener
4
Smoke and Mirrors
Any perfume lover sold on the idea of a semi-modern vetiver may be justly discombobulated when putting this on for the first time.

You get a burst of sweet spices and then a steamed suet pudding with an ethereal metallic tang, and chestnut purée. There are some red fruits, and then a strange aromatic, sweet and vaguely herbaceous note comes floating over the top. What appears to be metallic begins to take on a sour vinegary overtone which you suspect is trying to smuggle a homeopathic spirit of vetiver into the profile.

The development stage is very volatile, changing at almost every sniff. What is certain though, this is not a Vetiver perfume in the accepted sense. There may be vetiver in there, but this profile doesn't smell of it; rather, more and more of a pale, nutty-creamy chestnut purée heaped onto suet pudding in a stainless steel dish, with a splash of aromatic vinegar.

Yet ironically, this radical construction is based on a traditional model of Vetiver, ie: vetiver paired with myrrh and spicy notes, but its the character of the changes which Antoine Maisondieu made to this traditional form that make Fat Electrician radical. He has taken The Vetiver and thrust it into the odd gourmand territory of pale chestnut purée and vinegar. This is the innovative angle which, when latched onto the traditional form justifies the weird ELdO moniker semi-modern vetiver.

In every vetiver worth mentioning (and some that are not,) vetiver's name has had to take pride of place on the label - just as a megalomaniac film star's name must come top of the bill, because, as Luca Turin points out, when there's not enough vetiver in the mix the note gets lost, but when there is enough it takes over.

The problem of vetiver's distinctive personality has at last been solved. The challenge has long been how to get enough of it into the mix without letting it dominate and forcing you to call your perfume Vetiver; the name an admission that the perfumer's attempts to bend this recalcitrant yet seductive weed to their will have failed.

In this case a novel and effective way to square the vetiver circle has been found. Instead of the tried and tested anisic route, or the citrus dead end, the lighter aspects of vetiver have been exalted into the head accord by means of a silver olive leaf note - which recalls the aromatic vinegars of pre-modern perfumery. This is a well blended, fairly neutral, comparatively subtle (and its really saying something to describe a penetrating top note as subtle) sweet vinegar-like accord that washes off a trace of vetiver into its volatile fumes.

The blocking material between the buried vetiver and the exalted thin vinegar / metallic accord is a naturalistic chestnut purée. It has an oily granular-paste like texture, and a mild-sweet & bland nut-meat aroma which is mid toned, yet its also opaque and thick enough to smother the vetiver early on, and is so different from the vinegar accord as to be largely immune to it. This thick splodge of chestnut purée on the vetiver keeps it from rising into the light; a lot of chestnut - almost too much - but not so much as to stop a little vetiver from leaking out into the atmosphere on the volatile vinegar gasses. The vetiver is bowed down, suppressed, but its there none the less - like a Freudian neurosis.

As things settle down, vetiver does, ever so slowly creep out, but it spends the first half of the development in hiding, and then, when it does emerge it's initially disguised as some kind of baroque courtier done up in whitened face, powdered wig and plastic comedy glasses. And then, when it really gets going, FE's alter ego starts cracking acerbic one liners right and left - and its then, finally, you come to realise that that old scoundrel vetiver has been capering under your nose for ages and for much of the time you didn't even know he was there.

The mark of a radical art work in any discipline is the initial confusion it engenders in the mind of the audience. The first time I smelled FE I thought it was boring and a bit weird (ie: Challenging and irritating,) and I thought to myself 'who wants to smell like ... chestnut purée?' But later, I re-watched the art critic Robert Hughes talking about Carl Andre's notorious pile of bricks in the Tate Gallery; the howls of indignation provoked by this 'sculpture' and the public money wasted on buying it. But, by virtue of its location in the gallery, it forced people to reconsider the forms that sculpture might now take; after that, sculpture could no longer be just a marble torso nicked from the Parthenon.

Fat Electrician was the pile of bricks in my head, which challenged baffled, confused and annoyed, but which eventually lit up a neural pathway that led to a lightbulb moment.
Besides the technical accomplishment of having re-engineered the vetiver to make of it a balanced two part structure, there is also the achievement of having democratised a dictatorial material which long exerted a stranglehold on any structure a perfumer tried to make it play along with.

But if it 'means' anything, and whether perfume can or should have any significance beyond smelling good is another story, Fat Electrician is about humour and irony. These people at ELdO are no doubt far too subtle to to spell it out, preferring, as they do, to weave their postmodernist word games into clouds of semiological signifiers, enveloping their weird fumes with tantalising mystique.

Whatever. Let's let Antoine Maisondieu and ELdO have the last word when they declare
"The Vetiver is dead, long live vetiver!"
2.5 5.0 5.0 2.0/10
WRoth

153 Reviews
WRoth
WRoth
3
Fat Electrician
Opens with a perfect vetiver rendition: (sappy) fresh but also (peppery) dry, vegetal and also metallic. Going against tradition the vetiver is not blended with citrus fruit, but with vanilla instead. This delicate note tames the wild grass and infuses it with a smooth- and sweetness I simply find wonderful. Myrrh and opoponax anchor the top notes and enhance the smooth, pearlescent aspects of the fragrance. This makes me think of olive leafs… they too are smooth and have silver-shiny under side. Despite all this talk about warm and sweet nuances, the scent never loses its (fresh) grassy and (spicy) woodsy character. As the scent develops the notes begin to peel away one by one and when it reaches the dry down all I see is an lovely woodsy-smoky shadow. The linearity and smoothness of this fragrance may not appeal to anyone, but it does not detract from the fact this is a very good vetiver offering.
jtd

484 Reviews
jtd
jtd
Helpful Review    6
fat me
I can feel the woody amber with my nose, and there is an acetone, shellac, sour plastic quality that I smell as the volatility of the note pulls it away from me.

And then I don’t really smell anything.

Great name, perplexing olfactory experience. It comes and goes in 5 minutes. A discrete, tidy performance that leaves me in a chin-scratching state.

I feel like I should applaud.
7.5 7.5 10.0 7.0/10
Sleuth

30 Reviews
Sleuth
Sleuth
3
First impression
E.L.D.O.'s tongue in cheek story for this fragrance is about a man who is past his physical prime and needs a fragrance to get his mojo back. Despite that, this fragrance is rather unisex. Not at all only for older men.

This is also illustrated by the fact that Electrician is similar to Encre Noire (homme), a fragrance appreciated by different age groups. On first sniff I thought this was an Encre Noire clone. This one, like Encre Noire, is also a warm, dark, gourmandish vetiver, but closer inspection reveals the differences. Encre Noire, to me, is vetiver boosted by pleasant synthetics and with a gourmand facet that I don't like. Electrician, on the other hand, I would call a vetiver + opoponax combination with an original chestnut cream note.

Encre Noire has better sillage and longevity, but I prefer Fat Electrician.

Statements

Itchynose 7 months ago
A sweet, sour & savory rollercoaster ride for the senses. Some will find the edges enjoyable, for the rest it will be an acquired taste.+1
8.0
7.0
7.0
7.0

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