Ten Perfumes for Fall
For this week’s post, I thought I would try something a bit different – a top-ten list, of sorts. Though this blog was intended to provide thorough reflections on perfumes, it occurs to me that a brief reference to a particular fragrance can often be enough to pique the interest of a reader. I’ve often been persuaded to seek out a perfume based simply on a provocative or thoughtful name, much less a full catalogue of notes or ingredients. Additionally, I find that many perfumes have strong seasonal qualities, though I’m as likely to challenge those proclivities as follow them.
What follows are ten perfumes that I particularly enjoy during the fall. I presently live in a locale with minimal seasonal variations but I still perceive the Midwestern autumn of my childhood – one in which colorful leaves carpet the landscape and Halloween truly stands as an inflection point between the light and dark. These perfumes complement a transition to cooler weather and mimic the color palette I associate with the autumn. It’s entirely possible that several of these may receive a more thorough review at a later date, but I enjoy sharing some condensed thoughts here. The perfumes are discussed in no particular order and I heartily recommend each for the harvest season.
Eloge du Traitre (Etat Libre D’Orange, 2006) – There’s nothing hugely original going on here, but this is a very well executed fougere that was clearly inspired by some of the virile masculines of the 1980s. When I first smelled this, I was instantly reminded of Halston Z-14, which my father wore some 20+ years ago. One is immediately struck by a beautiful pairing of pine and laurel in this fragrance. This is also strongly aromatic with the inclusion of artemisia and patchouli. The real twist here comes in the form of jasmine - not an ingredient you'd expect in this sort of perfume. This transports the wearer to the northern woods and could easily have been the signature scent of Agent Cooper on Twin Peaks.
L’Air du Desert Marocain (Tauer Perfumes, 2005) – A fever dream of amber, incense, and spices. The perfume that made Andy Tauer a cult hero among fragrance fans is a hallmark of niche perfumery and still feels thrilling even fifteen years after its release. It is arid, almost to the point of astringency, but gradually becomes a resinous spice mélange on skin. There’s something nearly narcotic about the combination of cumin, incense, and ambergris here – I’d swear I can smell gasoline or whiskey in the mix. Or one of any number of other things. If one were to encounter the mythical spice of Frank Hebert’s Dune, I’d like to think it would smell something like L’Air du Desert Marocain.
Cuir de Russie (Chanel, 2007) - This is the alpha and the omega of leather scents. In its current incarnation, it is largely a floral scent - but one which masterfully creates the image of tanned hides and green fields. One might argue that the true measure of a perfumer is the ability to faithfully recreate a smell or a smell memory using unrelated or even random materials. That's exactly what Jacques Polge has done here - he has created the illusion of fine leather using a mad scientist combination of floral and woody notes. Even if you wear it only a few times a year, this one belongs in your collection.
Eau de Parfum (Helmut Lang, 2014) – Musky, alluring, comfortable. Almost the olfactory equivalent of sleeping-in on a rainy weekend morning. A minimalist expression that defies easy categorization. Orange blossom and lavender layered over baby powder and soft patchouli. Sounds a bit strange, but it’s effortlessly beautiful. Think Audrey Tautou in Coco before Chanel, and let your imagination fill in the gaps.
Sycomore (Chanel, 2008) – Perhaps you’ve already read my full review? I simply cannot offer recommendations for the autumn without mention of this marvel. Quite possibly the most transportive perfume I’ve encountered and one that is perfectly unisex. A bone-dry vetiver mated to creamy sandalwood. In the mix is an ethereal smokiness suggestive of burning leaves or an aging cigar humidor. When I feel homesick, this is my salve.
Le Troisième Homme (Caron, 1985) – Named for the Orson Welles film set in the shadows of Vienna. Spicy, floral, and evocative of vintage perfumes. The fragrance has a discernible top note of lemon balm, with lavender, carnation, and cloves at its heart. Not quite a fougere, but something closely related. Sartorial men and women ought to wear this to project an additional sense of mystery. There’s a fairly big slug of oakmoss in my vintage bottle, but even the modern formula manages to sustain the illusion of oakmoss via some clever sleight of hand. An incredibly androgynous creation that somehow reminds me of visiting a department store fragrance counter with my mother as a young boy. If you see yourself as a character in film noir, this might be for you.
Tempo (Diptyque, 2018) – Patchouli is not just for aging hippies. It can be plush, refined, luxurious even. And yet, it still retains an element of rebellion. The liquid in this elegant bottle lacks the hard edges of raw patchouli, leaning instead towards a softer interpretation of the plant. It has woody elements that are difficult to pin down, but also feels like an opulent bedroom in a stately manor house: slightly musty, with perhaps a hint of furniture polish. So saying, this patchouli would feel just as appropriate with stilettos as with jeans and a wool sweater.
Kyoto (Comme Des Garcons, 2002) – One of five fragrances from the excellent Incense Series from CdG. I love Avignon as a representation of Catholic mass, but Kyoto is meant to represent the variety of Buddhism practiced in Japan. The incense here is appropriately calming and heavily bolstered by cypress and cedar woods. This doesn’t strike me as liturgical but is redolent of a serene sauna in a mountain retreat. Much like the dry heat of a sauna, Kyoto can clear the mind (and the sinuses). There is no mention of eucalyptus or menthol in the official fragrance notes, but the dry resinous feel of this fragrance provides a similar decongestant effect. A meditative escape in perfume form.
The Oud Affair (Vilhelm Parfumerie, 2015) – I find the title of this perfume somewhat perplexing, as oud wood is only a supporting element here. Dominant instead is a lovely pipe tobacco note supported by viscous honey and rich vanilla. The interplay between smoky and sweet here achieves an impressive balance. I often find vanilla far too sweet in perfumery but this one feels just right, like a golden sunset lending warmth to the otherwise chilly October air. There is also a slight gourmand effect – if dried tobacco leaves were used as a vessel for baklava, it might smell something like this.
Christopher Street (Charenton Macerations, 2012) - This fragrance has that rarest quality that so many of us seek - a sense of timelessness. It doesn't smell dated exactly, but one can't help but notice the references to legendary chypres of the past - Mitsouko, 31 Rue Cambon, Bel Ami. It opens with an alcoholic lime note, but quickly transitions into a sort of dirty floral/herbal concoction focused on the interplay between patchouli, the cloves, and myrrh. Over the course of a couple hours, the scent becomes increasingly centered on a beautiful dry leather note in the base. I'm ultimately reminded of a leather bomber jacket, which has been lovingly used over the course of a decade or so by a gentleman who never leaves the house without product in his hair.
