Pierre Guillaume Coze (2002)
A bleak November afternoon. Teenage outcasts, for whom music is lifeblood, make the drive from suburb to city. Leather jackets, baggy jeans, and Doc Martens are their uniform. A portable CD player is connected via the car’s tape deck, allowing for some added ambiance during the trip. In this instance, ambiance refers to the wail of guitar feedback and shrieks from any number of macabre performers wearing fishnet garments and eyeliner. Scary monsters, super creeps.
The destination is a record store which probably resembles many others. It smells of stale patchouli and musty cardboard. The few customers wandering the aisles are would-be renegades or aged collectors yearning to find the one album capable of turning back the clock by twenty years. This place keeps the best stuff in the basement, so as to shield nocturnal beings from sunlight. Drab wooden racks hold a choice selection of goth, punk, metal, and other experimental sounds masquerading as music. Perusing the selection is like flipping through a rolodex of friends – or imaginary friends at least. J for Joy Division, M for Ministry, S for Sisters of Mercy and Siouxsie Sioux.
A clove cigarette lit just outside the store momentarily warms the brisk air. Though the scene is rather dreary, the possibilities feel endless. These young men are dreamers, for better or worse. Today must be prologue to something greater.
The sense of alienation and angst experienced during the teenage years seems almost universal. These feelings manifest in a variety of ways. Friends whose single greatest affinity is their desire to seek out subversive music – things that are the antithesis of accepted norms. A desire to distinguish one’s self from others in an effort to discover a sense of self. Confusion and confidence in a in an uneasy détente.
For me, this spirit is reflected beautifully in Coze. Something about the type of herbal patchouli in this perfume seems to evoke the exotic – be it found in a record store, an import shop, or an artist’s studio – while still feeling comfortable and lived-in. The rather green and raw patchouli at the core of Coze is entwined with pimento chile, tobacco, and a rough coffee note. Actually, it smells less like brewed coffee and more like a trendy coffee shop where used espresso grounds season the air. The combination of these chords creates a novel effect that smells vaguely like marijuana – and indeed, the official fragrance description indicates that an extract of Indian hemp is used in composing the fragrance.
More precisely, Coze gives a strong impression of cloves and the type of clove cigarettes favored by aspiring delinquents during my formative years. I’ve always found the sweet, resinous smell of a clove cigarette particularly bewitching in cold weather, when the perfumed smoke offers a rich contrast to the dryness in the air. I don’t condone smoking of any kind, but I also can’t deny the allure of flavored tobacco and its nuanced aromas.
I’m also of two minds in categorizing Coze as an herbal tobacco fragrance. From a slightly different angle, there is a distinct gourmand appeal here that can rival the perfume’s smokier silhouette. Coze includes a pinch of dry vanilla in its base, and also a teaspoon of cocoa powder. The intersection of these confectionery notes with the spiced patchouli leads to some curious associations. If you really let your imagination wander, you may think you’ve encountered a chocolate spice cake or even a hint of Mexican mole sauce. Coze never feels truly edible, though the addition of the food-like notes gives the perfume a multidimensional feel that is both surprising and charming.
While Coze ought to suit burgeoning rockers and poets, its appeal could be much broader. The perfume has a worn-in feel, much like that of a favorite sweater. In keeping with that analogy, Coze is a perfect choice for the cooler seasons when the desire for added warmth is most tempting.