Dans Tes Bras (2008)
by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle

Congratulations to Maurice Roucel! His Dans Tes Bras for Frederic Malle wins my award for Weirdest Top Note in Recent Memory: mushrooms. Not earthy forest-floor-and-compost mushrooms, either. Nope. These are cultivated mushrooms – the ones that come pre-sliced in the produce section of your local supermarket. Heck, I can even smell the little cardboard cartons that they come packed in. The much commented upon and peculiar “hairspray” top notes of Roucel’s Insolence have nothing on this oddball opening gambit.

The mushrooms dominate for roughly half an hour before a slightly sweet, aldehydic (or is that salicylate-seasoned) violet accord partially displaces them. The dank, musty echo of the mushrooms offers an unconventional but effective counterweight to the violets, and keeps Dans Tes Bras from becoming cloying or claustrophobic as some violet-rich scents can be. (Dans Tes Bras’s violet accord is also spiked with a cool, brisk, peppercorn/camphor accent that I’ve caught in Bertrand Duchaufour’s Magnolia Romana and perhaps Serge Lutens’s recent Serge Noire. Could this be the new niche fragrance note du jour?)

As it evolves, Dans Tes Bras becomes progressively more dry, warm, and woody. After two or three hours there’s very little sweetness remaining – just a shadow of floral notes over velvety-soft woods. The Frederic Malle marketing copy proclaims that Dans Tes Bras is meant to evoke “the odor of warm skin.” I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I will assert that Dans Tes Bras functions as a “skin scent.” While not exactly weak, it is highly transparent and wears very close to the skin.

In temperament and style Dans Tes Bras is about as far removed as possible from Roucel’s first composition for Frederic Malle, the flamboyant and extroverted Musc Ravageur. Where Musc Ravageur is a brash and provocative exhibitionist of a scent, Dans Tes Bras is a guarded, demure, yet mysterious fragrance. Anyone expecting the exuberance of Roucel’s Insolence, Tocade, or Misssoni will be disappointed, but Dans Tes Bras’s understatement mustn’t be confused with blandness. It’s an odd, puzzling, and unique scent, with a decidedly “synthetic” flavor. Not synthetic as in “cheap smelling,” rather synthetic and proud of it. Once the mushroom accord recedes, there’s nothing remotely naturalistic about Dans Tes Bras, and even those photorealistic mushrooms possess an oddly surreal quality.

My lasting impression of Dans Tes Bras is of a subtle, sophisticated, abstract scent that travels far during its development without ever making too much noise. I must also say that why Frederic Malle is marketing it as a feminine fragrance is completely beyond me: Dans Tes Bras is as gender neutral a scent as I have smelled in years.

I'm probably being unfair reviewing this after only one wearing, but the appeal of this one completely escapes me. Maybe my taste isn't sophisticated enough yet for Dans tes Bras. Mushroom, Trebor says. I get a musty quality from this in the drydown that is a bit mushroomy I suppose, though I was thinking storage unit. Also, the synthetic top notes make me think of household cleaning products. I get pleasant faint whiffs of salt, though, as well as clove. To me, it smells like being embraced by someone who's been house cleaning and clearing out old things from the attic. I love some of Maurice Roucel's creations, so I was really looking forward to trying this one, but I don't get it. Oh well. We can't all love everything. I'm giving it a "neutral" because I've only tried it once.

An engaging aroma from the start: gentle, but a definite presence, making a fresh and slightly spicy impression, not exactly floral, but something woody-resiny tinged with moments of floral notes. When it dries down, it smells remarkably like clean, fresh skin, redolent of warmth and health. How Roucel does it is a mystery; from the pyramid, one would expect a slightly floral woody oriental. Indeed, in a sense, it is just that; nevertheless, it is the "skin scent" par excellence. Truly amazing how the warmth of skin can be encapsulated in such a fragrance!

Man, this one’s just weird! I definitely agree that it has a mushroom accord lurking in the composition. But coupled with the synthetic accords of violets, musk and sweaty human flesh, there’s no way I can appreciate it for what it is.

Yes, Dans Tes Bras does push the envelope somewhat (hence the neutral rating) but that’s no consolation for something that I find quite unwearable.

Dans Tes Bras is floral, salty, slightly synthetic (aldehydic) and fleshy.

I like violet notes, but this violet note is almost chemically treated in a way that it radiates a fuzziness to it. Nothing close to the musky, civet-heavy barbershop vibe of Midnight Violet by Ava Luxe – or the sharp, pungent violet leaf notes in Grey Flannel by Geoffrey Beene and Narciso Rodriguez for Him. Rather the violet emanates like a gas behind a wall of synthetic diffused notes. Have you ever walked into a bathroom where someone has sprayed hairspray just a second before you walked into the room – and the air seems charged with ions and almost has a taste that hits the back of your throat? Well, DTB smells like that. Not the smell of hairspray (for that note, see Cuir de Russie by Chanel). But instead the smell of air, that has had hairspray diffused in it. With violets.

As it warms on my skin, DTB gets slightly more tangy. I think an online review I read mentioned ‘a field of mushrooms’. This description is close but I think it reminds me of the smell of an algae encrusted fountain, in a garden. Perhaps chlorophyll or something akin to mildew, yet dry (not watery or aquatic). Then, the strange accord recedes a bit on my skin and combines with my own skin smell and gives off a blindingly accurate recreation of salty, human skin. Fascinating!

I used to work cutting grass, as a summer job, during my high school years (I hated it!). In Miami, all landscaping jobs can be grueling due to the sunny, rainy and humid weather. I remember the smell of my clothes throughout the day while working in the hot sun, saturated with sweat and then drying in the work van on the way to the next job. Only to become saturated with sweat all over again, when we started the next job. Not the smell of sour body odor - but very much a sweaty body, dried by the sun.

The entire duration of the scent is close to the skin, with extremely below average sillage - yet average longevity. When the scent disappears from the surface of my skin, all I could smell was whiffs of the Cashmeran or white musk (I can’t figure out which one it is, since some musks I can’t smell…), with all of the other notes completely gone.

It’s impossible to compare this scent to any other scent on the market. However, lovers of the perfumer Geza Schon and his stripped down fragrances (Escentric 01 and Molecule 01 by Escentric Molecules; gs02 by Biehl) or Christopher Brosius’ strange accords (Chanterelle Mushroom accord by CB I Hate Perfume or Cumming by Alan Cumming) should definitely try DTB because I think it was created with the same sense of fragrant 'vagueness'.

Perhaps the only drawback for many will be finding a time/place to wear Dans Tes Bras. Me? It smells so wonderfully innovative, I plan on getting a full bottle (or atleast one of those travel size bottles) and wearing it whenever I damn well please.