Pigfarmer

Sarrasins is a dark, noirish masterpiece that is essentially constructed from indolic jasmine with osmanthus and vague ‘animalic notes’ in support, possibly a mild civet strain, perhaps musk. Its colour is a very striking deep deep purple (that can easily stain – beware!) There may be some gardenia in there as well, but in the end it comes down to the jasmine. But what a jasmine!

Lutens had previously released A La Nuit, which exhibited the fresh, sparkling, green-tinged aspect of jasmine. The result was a quite feminine, easier, green-tinged daytime frag with fairly mass appeal. I could never wear that. Sarrasins is the slightly feral, growling, clearly unisex Lutens jasmine that says “danger but it’s safe”, kinda like a scary ride or a bungee jump. The indoles can smell just a touch fecal to some, while the osmanthus is brilliantly rendered to affect a rather skanky leathery accord after about 30 minutes. But never at any time does Sarrasins come off as anything but extremely elegant and deeply sensual, even sexy. And man o man, does the heat of summer accentuate these aspects.

Two years ago, while on holiday in Turkey, I wore Sarrasins every single evening for 10 days straight. Although a relatively linear fragrance, it never bored me, as the environment of the heat-blasted coast as it cooled in evening always seemed to perfectly support the choice of scent, like it’s meant to be. It seemed quite fortuitous to discover a huge jasmine bush near our hotel that reminded me just how realistic Christopher Sheldrake could render jasmine while deepening its appeal. I can honestly say that Sarrasins has become the olfactory totem of my wonderful summer vacation of 2015. It is remarkable how scent can not only reawaken memories but set up future reference points in advance of memory.

As I wear Sarrasins now, back in the sombre, damp Low Countries, the object experience of the scent is somehow flatter, if still gorgeous BUT! I can now close my eyes…..I am basking near the Aegean coast, with some of my favourite people over meze and raki smelling of perfect white flower rot & suedey osmanthus fruity leather. If this ain’t perfect, I don’t know what is…..

EauMer goes on as a simple-ish neroli-heavy eau de cologne. That clichéd stage lasts literally mere seconds before you realize you are dealing with a VERY different animal here. The quality of the neroli is obvious but it cleverly and immediately takes a backseat to what can only be described as an “industrial green marine” accord that wobbles in like the wobbling on gasoline fumes. I’ve never smelled anything like it, and for some this stage may flummox or unsettle. Imagine a forested marshland with a petrol refinery a couple of km away on a windy day and you start to get an approximation. The neroli and a tart petitgrain are firmly in place throughout but this crazy accord seems to float over it. EauMer ( a play on its creator's first name: Ömer) is clearly brave perfumery, executed with daring and confidence. What happens next?

For a good 30 minutes the petrol-green (from what, I dunno, perhaps seaweed or maybe even basil as in Eau du Sud)-neroli-aquatic presence stays put. If this seems unpleasant it certainly is not, and on the one real hot day I’ve worn it, this accord positively shimmered above my skin, making it feel quite organic - a very clever trick indeed.

Around the 45min mark, EauMer’s true genius becomes apparent. This isn’t a twisted eau de cologne made by a disgruntled sailor, it’s a bloody vetiver! The first time I wore this I grinned ear to ear from this olfactory epiphany. As the shimmering petrol-marine accord slowly backed off I was treated to a very high quality Haitian vetiver in all its grassy glory, like I moved further down the marshy shore into a fresh air patch. The petrol still lurks in the background, the neroli still impressively sticks around but EauMer joins the illustrious ranks of the Vetiver + club. I didn’t see that coming, and man I love it.

A shy, wan jasmine note later joins the party, and it fuses with the vetiver to provide a degree of organic elegance. It’s this subtle jasmine that really convinced me that EauMer should be included with a couple of my favourite summer frags. It demonstrates that Pekji respects classicism while embracing the avant garde, which is something I’ve always respected in the creative arts, particularly music.

EauMer is something that I could see Mark Buxton or Geza Schoen doing at their best. The juxtaposition and effortless evocation of organic & synthetic are factors in perfumery that get me genuinely excited and EauMer is an exciting frag. On the Pekji website – incredibly – Pekji quotes someone who has worn EauMer and they invoke cottage country in summer in Ontario. I spent my first 18 years in that precise area, and can attest that this remarkable frag convincingly evokes summers in cottage country, with seaweed, mixed forest, outboard boat engines and marsh areas. But above all, I smell the sun gently beating down on this unspoiled part of the planet. This must be the only vetiver + that smells like my childhood summers, and now you can go there too.

Aeon001 goes on with real purpose and undeniable presence. The very first impression is the densest, chewiest smoky vetiver that you’ve likely ever come across, unless you are familiar with Profumum Roma Fumidus. But associations with that peaty-whisky smokebomb are very fleeting, as there is SO MUCH going on here besides. There is a bright top end of juicy bergamot, and an interesting grumble of tuberose lurking in the bottom end, soon joined by ylang, which REALLY brings to mind possibly the finest frag of 2014, MAAI by Bogue Profumo. In fact I had to do a double take at the box to check that this wasn’t a new Bogue. It also got me wondering who was behind this promising smell…..
Within 20 minutes, this dense ball of heavy chypre base, smoky vetiver and bright bergamot really started to open up. That’s when real excitement in perfumery begins: the development stage(s). It became very clear that the vetiver was indeed the star of this show, but what wowed me was the duality of the vetiver on offer here. A remarkable pas-a-deux of light and dark, salty and smoky, earthy and grassy all at the same time. I can say with some confidence that this represents a vetiver lover’s wet dream, carrying all facets whirring over and through the base like a fragrant wraith. Even more stunning is the fact that despite this omnipresent display of all of vetiver’s facets, the note does not dominate the composition, ever. In fact this could be the coolest vetiver for non-vetiver lovers since Coeur de Vetiver Sacré. This stage lasts a solid hour at which point you are ready for the main attraction: floral oriental
Once the vetiver show took a seat, the associations with Maai made a return but only on a very superficial level, the tuberose. It just won’t budge but it is quite sotto voce, adding texture rather than presence. What becomes clear is that this is a multi-chaptered story and the plot development is interesting as hell. Where Maai brings in cumin, musk, and oakmoss to build its lasting phase, Aeon001 has the grace to lighten up with a (as the ad copy promises) spicy but translucent labdanum and a very light but effective touch of petitgrain (I think) which is damn impressive this far into the development. The effect is reminiscent of Duchaufour at his best: hefty weightlessness. This is just effortlessly nice to wear and truly enjoy.

We fume junkies are all familiar to some degree of “The Classics” – a classic chypre is Guerlain Mitsouko, a classic oriental is Opium, florals have Patou Joy, fougere has Azzaro pour Homme, leather has Cuir de Russie, etc etc…. And it seems that most modern fragrances seem to replay, tweak, scramble and otherwise stay within these pigeonholes of the classic categories simply because it’s safe (ish) and generally familiar to the public. Whether they are successful (chypre: Jubilation 25) or an abject failure (oriental:

But what if a brave perfume company wants to break free from this constraint of unwitting commercial-driven homage to The Classics? Such risks are relatively rare even these days, but badass/badboy nose Christophe Laudamiel and his bosses Sebastian Fischenich and Tobias Muekschat at Humiecki & Graef know no fear!

H&G is considered by many to be one of the most consistently and successfully cutting edge perfume house around. “Difficult” frags like Skarb, Candour and Multiple Rouge can really polarize opinion; they smell like virtually nothing else and hence can’t really reference The Classics. They are what might be called “The Weirdos”, fitting into no discernable category and seeming to exist for the singular task of challenging all who smell it. Having been called one once or twice, I feel an affinity for these perfume oddballs. Today we’re going to look at what I consider to be the truly beautiful freak in the H&G line: Blask.

The folks at H&G HQ have made it clear in their ad copy that each of their frags is meant to evoke a specific mood or a memory of a mood. The excellent, astringent Askew is meant evoke fury, the calm Bosque contentment, Clemency pride, etc. Blask is meant to be about trust. That’s a bit ironic because when I look at the notes listed for Blask I don’t trust what I read. They tell me I’m smelling

“….pungent bay leaf oil with the full-bodied elegance of rich red wine. A woody, balsamic walnut note…. A selection of floral notes…. A distinct new interpretation of an oudh scent…”

This does not jive with what my nose is telling me. In fact I don’t exactly know what the hell I’m actually smelling!

One reason why I wanted to review this fantastic fragrance was that is extremely difficult to pin down its constituent parts. So please bear with me while I do my best to convey the experience of Blask in so many words…

My wife refers to Blask as ‘the candy perfume’ when I wear it and it does indeed go on sweet, very sweet in fact, but doesn’t ever cloy. It’s a sweetness that comes from beyond honey, vanilla, benzoin or patchouli, as in The Classics. It’s a sweetness that feels organic and seems to float despite its saccharine intensity. The closest reference I can muster to describe this intense sweetness is a very well-aged sauternes desert wine from the Bordeaux region. But that’s a white wine, not red as stated in the official description. So much for trust! But it’s a sweetness that is affable and warm even on a cloudy, cold Dutch morning. That alone makes it worth wearing at least once. The rest of the scent makes it truly compelling.

I don’t know about the reference to oudh because I simply don’t smell any. Nor any By Kilian style oudh accord sans oudh. Maybe it’s a silent partner that has presence rather than visibility. But I do get wood, but not sure if it’s walnut,; could be, could be oak, definitely not the cedar that is seemingly ubiquitous these days. It is a warm, sensuous wood that perfectly integrates with the odeur de sauternes. As time passes, the intense sweetness gives way not just to wood, but to a slight acidic sharpness, as you might encounter as the sauternes is being prepared for bottling at its must stage. Wow, the net effect is to make this combination quite bright. After 15 minutes on skin, Blask is so bright it feels and smells like it is actually glowing!

What makes Blask so special to me is that this glowing sensation last for about 9 full hours. That’s one impressively wonderful weirdo.

Although Blask remains essentially linear throughout the day, this isn’t the whole story. After about 90 minutes some wan, shy florals do peek out through this wood-wine sweetness. It feels like violet, perhaps with geranium, but that doesn’t matter. This secondary floral element feeds the all-round positive vibe of Blask, giving depth an ensuring that the wearer never fatigues from the experience. Instead of evolving, it shifts the perception of weight in the wine-wood-floral accord and this is itself a testament to technical and artistic mastery.

While same H&G frags want to push one’s limits of what smells good, Blask is there to lift the mood and keep you centred in the most positive way a fragrance can. There is no category to place this Weirdo, but sometimes the strange and wonderful belongs on its own, glowing uniquely for those who venture past the done and the mundane.

It came in the post from a fair fragrance swap,
But this blind buy might fail, or so I thought.
The white box and bottle were thoughtfully made,
Rather less bling than J&M normally parade.

I admit I’ve not had the best run with this house
So I wasn’t expecting what was about to come out.
Instead of insipid, wan and flower-fruit bright,
This stuff was perfection, perfume dyn-O-mite!

We all know by now how ubiquitous the oud:
Sometimes it’s fake/lame, sometimes it’s quite good.
Here it’s presented with grace, depth and verve -
Oily smoke agar wood with a cashmeran curve.

But the star of the show is so much more than
This over-used accent that often smells bland.
The saffron… OH SAFFRON! You might hear me say
Is rendered with incense in a novel new way.

So good is this spice, it’s the finest I’ve smelled,
So much more rewarding than safraleine hell.
It’s accented by pepper in a most subtle fashion,
But this ain’t no gourmand, no! but oriental with passion.

Finally, the rum, that sugared liquor,
Imbibing this juice with tremendous vigour.
What a balancing act to juggle such parts,
It so holds together when it should fall apart!

It develops in stages to bedazzle – delight,
Such complexity and balance just always feels right.
Garuda has power, refinement and light
It will keep you good company well into the night.