Arquiste Boutonnière No. 7 (2012)
Gentle waves and the salt air. Wooden chairs slightly sunken in spongy sand. White linen and deck shoes. An archway fashioned from driftwood. Vows exchanged against the backdrop of the Atlantic.
A procession of guests moves through the dunes and a poolside reception awaits. Jasmine and gardenia flavor the late-Spring ambience. Champagne flutes are carefully positioned amid floral arrangements, and the table settings are like watercolors on a pristine canvas.
Traditional cocktails with colorful garnishes begin to appear near the bar. A small cigar humidor has been perused, and the spicy-sweet aroma of cured tobacco floats at the periphery of this lush beachside property. Lights are strung between verdant palms. The setting sun paints the scene with a golden hue and one feels fortunate to be among the guests of this intimate gathering. Hope springs eternal on an evening like this, when cares are swept away by the sea breeze.
Men have traditionally worn boutonnières for a range of formal events: weddings, school dances, even funerals. A fragrant flower affixed to the lapel of a tuxedo jacket or sport coat conveys refinement in a subtle, though instantly recognizable, way. This seems to have been the premise of Arquiste founder Carlos Huber in developing Boutonnière No. 7. A floral perfume for men is a tricky proposition, but it occasionally seems possible to make something with both panache and sufficient consumer appeal to sustain the concept (see my previous review of Dior Homme, for example). Multiple sources suggest that White Gardenia has often been a favored choice for use in a boutonnière, being both a symbol of purity and possessing a romantic aroma.
Boutonnière No. 7 is crafted around a fleshy gardenia note that inexplicably sways between tropical leisure and formal grace. Indeed, Arquiste describes the perfume as the “re-imagined Opera flower of Belle Époque Paris”. One finds not only the flower, rather the entire plant. The stem, the stalk, the leaves, even the soil are reflected here. But for a mere garnish of orange peel in the opening, the perfume is all white petals, greenery, and earth. The gardenia is entwined with a clean jasmine, cementing in one’s mind the illusion of Spring rebirth and a tranquil park in full bloom.
Beneath this soaring floral façade lie a few notes more commonly associated with masculine perfumery – lavender, vetiver, perhaps a few drops of oakmoss. These serve as a reminder that this fragrance is not entirely aristocratic - it could well be the perfume of an enlightened gardener. The fragrance includes just enough vegetation and dirt to allow the buttery florals to take root. From a slightly skewed angle, Boutonnière No. 7 feels almost medicinal, as though an alchemist used nothing more than mortar and pestle to extract the essence of each plant. I cannot assert any health benefits associated with wearing it, though I like to imagine it imbues the wearer with a sense of serenity often illusive in these strange days.
Despite its origins in male iconography, Boutonnière No. 7 may still be a touch too floral, too balmy to fit neatly into the perfume wardrobe of a typical man. I’d argue this perfume illustrates that fragrance has no gender, no innate rules. A thoroughly charming option for all curious beings.