Got my clammy little hands on a sample of SM, as part of a library of samples from Etat Libre D'Orange. It was not something I expected to like, let alone wear, but was sure it would be an interesting olfactory experience.
Though I wished to crack into it immediately, I held off, and went through the samples as listed in the accompanying sheet, making notes for myself in the process.
By the time I arrived at SM, I expected that this would not smell nearly as interesting as promised, and might even be wearable.
Opened the bottle. Definitely milky, definitely bloody, definitely rancid. At this point it was powerful so sniffing was unnecessary. It was not pleasant, but it was true to the notes which came with the sample, and that pleased me on some level.
Dabbed a tiny bit on my inner arm. This, for me, was a mistake. My stomach heaved and heaved hard. I still had not actively taken a sniff. My mind was grasping for pink notes, sex notes, musk notes, any notes.... anything... any distraction that would allow me to wait things out to engage with the dry down.
I tried. I did. I really tried.
I am a very good girl. I do not gag. I do not flinch.
60 seconds with SM and this girl was collapsed by the bath, gasping for air, eyes streaming, and scalding her inner arm under the hot tap. These secretions were magnificently insistent and penetrating, for sure.
Not only did I vomit, and vomit hard, I vomited so violently that I had to clap my hand over my face and gulp the vomit back down to avoid drowning. Which was fun. Was able to drop the fourth batch into the toilet bowl, and vomit without having to swallow.
So yes, I got what I asked for. The listed accords were clear and present. The result was magnificently intense, and it is robust in terms of longevity. Which was tough for me that afternoon, but useful if it works for you. SM travels far, whether in sillage or from an opened phial, and should not be presumed to be a secret skin scent. I entertained the idea of keeping it to assess the dry down on another day, but my body vetoed that notion.
Next time I'll be in a field with a bucket, gloves and anti-emetics!
She starts off sweet but grows stickier with time; the transparent liquid is best allowed to drip on the fingers and, in increasing degrees of proximity, close to the groin. I keep returning to her fingers, sniffing them. The scent is unmistakable. Her fingers have been somewhere without me, somewhere dark and somewhere sweet.
31st January, 2015 (last edited: 02nd February, 2015)
Piercing, shrill, putrid/metallic bilge/curdled/dried spit note floating on a base of relatively banal milky, powdery, sandalwood inoffensiveness. Like a stinky, crazy party crasher at a Daughters of the American Revolution tea. Interesting, edgy conceptual perfumery, but ultimately unpleasant to wear. The deep drydown does mellow the bilge into a fairly innocuous and reasonably well integrated iodine/saline seaweed note adding counterpoint to the sandalwood, but it's too long a ride past the landfill on the way there IMO.
Inoffensive musky-sticky-milky-calonic notes wrapped in a harsh bag of aldehydes. I approached this scent quite late, meaning that I've often heard about this one without having actually smelled it, and all the people who owned/used it said this was naughty, raw, animalic, truly "offensive" and provocative (those were people who actually bought this, so... well, no offense). So I expected something cool and challenging. Meanwhile I tested some other scents by Etat Libre and found basically no interest whatsoever in their fragrances, so when I came to this I was quite in a "prejudice" mood. And I was right, because well... this is it? This depressing tin can of aldehydes and randomly-assembled putrid aromachemicals should evoke "sweat, blood, saliva"? No. This is no way challenging. It smells bad, but in no possible creative or provocative way - just dull, boring, pointless bad. Not even that bad actually – more than bad it's a plain, uninspired, clumsy smell. Being provocative in whatever legitimate and credible way means to be able to structure your provocation and contextualise it into a more broad critical discourse – to use it as a tool, or as language. Doing random stuff like this is and giving it a meaning by mere marketing means is not art and is not provocation, it's just a depressing way to exploit a cliché - in this case, the "épater les bourgeois" cliché (and making money out of it). This said, as I said it's not even that bad or stinky - any obscure and cheap chypre from the '50s would kick this in the butt in terms of "animalicness" (or whatever effect Eld'O pretends to achieve). To me it smells more like if Antoine Lie found a disposal bag of Takasago waste molecules and – bingo!. I don't want to sound hateful, pretentious or offensive but personally it really saddens me to think someone really consider this "irony" or "avantgarde" or whatever daring stuff and is actually willing to pay for this.
Genre: Soft Porn
Mine smells better.
Sécrétions Magnifique hardly lives up to it's provocative ad copy or its puerile packaging. No semen, no sweat, no blood, and nothing animalic here: just a powdery, milky white floral composition garnished with an unpleasantly cloying note that smells of stagnant water. When I was an adolescent, my bedroom was host to over a dozen aquaria. They smelled like this when they needed cleaning. Achieves distinction only in being at once dull and repulsive.
02nd July, 2014 (last edited: 03rd July, 2014)