État Libre d’Orange Dangerous Complicity

Source: Etat Libre website.

Source: Etat Libre website.

Dangerous Complicity from État Libre d’Orange is a fragrance that would be more aptly named “Generic Simplicity,” in my opinion. In my experience, the company’s edgy or provocative names (and marketing) rarely match the scent in question, and Dangerous Complicity is no different. It’s a shame, because the perfume’s notes looked pretty damn spectacular.

The original company description for the scent was all about Adam and Eve: “By eating the forbidden fruit, complicity took on another dimension, and became dangerous. They lost their innocence and their paradise. The door was opened to carnal energy, they were liberated from restrictions, and they could now create their own version of Eden. That forbidden fruit became a one-way ticket to Etat Libre d’Orange.” Press release are frequently over the top but, in this case, for this particular scent, I find the description not only ridiculous but absolutely laughable. If my eyes rolled back in my head any more, they would fall out.

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Histoires de Parfums Tubereuse 3 Animale

"Luna Surface" by Adrian on Flickr. (Direct website link embedded within.)

“Luna Surface” by Adrian on Flickr. (Direct website link embedded within.)

A shape-shifting, smoky floral leather with resinous darkness and honeyed sweetness lies at the heart of Tubereuse 3 Animale, a most unusual, unconventional take on the flower from Histoires de Parfums. Instead of icy floralcy, the flowers are restrained and blanketed by a dense haze of honeyed immortelle which slowly turns them into a shimmering mirage before swallowing them up entirely in sweet smokiness that verges on the sulfurous at times. The whole thing lies on a thick river of resinous leather, dark tobacco, dry hay, and prunes with an almost molasses-like richness and flecks of chocolate. This is not your regular tuberose, and it’s certainly not your mother’s Fracas. No, this is a different beast entirely — a dark, wholly unisex, sometimes challenging, often sexy fragrance that some consider to be one of the great gems in the Histoires de Parfums line and many love with great abandon. I think it bears a definite kinship to 1740 (Marquis de Sade), its sibling in the Histoires de Parfums’ line, and is a “tuberose” that might surprise you.

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Histoires de Parfums 1740 (Marquis de Sade)

1740 was the birth year of the Marquis de Sade, a man linked to such infamy that his very name became a byword for the most heinous acts of licentiousness and cruelty. 1740 is also the name of a fragrance created by Histoires de Parfums, a French niche perfume house founded in 2000 by Gérald Ghislain, that seeks to encapsulate the essence of historical figures in olfactory form.

Source: telegraph.co.uk

Source: telegraph.co.uk

At first glance, the choice to immortalize the Marquis de Sade in scent might seem to be an odd one. After all, his actions often amounted to an extreme form of sadism, and there is debate as to whether all the women involved actually consented. Many were prostitutes which would seem to negate much free will in the matter (even if others loved him to the every end). Plus, the ideas expressed in de Sade’s books are rather unpalatable, taking matters outside the arena of “Fifty Shades of Grey” erotica. (Not that I’ve read the latter, as I’ve heard the writing is atrocious.)

"The Marquis de Sade's Personal Devils," 1912, unknown artist. Source: calicultural.net

“The Marquis de Sade’s Personal Devils,” 1912, unknown artist. Source: calicultural.net

However, there is a new school of thought regarding the infamous Marquis which puts him in the context of the aristos’ behavior of the time, as well as the precarious political situation of the Ancien Regime. In The Marquis de Sade: A New Biography, Donald Thomas explains that the Marquis shared the sexual proclivities of many “grand seigneurs,” such that there was even a law going back to 1319 providing fines for various levels of sexual misconduct. His acts were nothing new, particularly at the highest levels, like the notorious Regent, the Duc d’Orleans, who ran the country for an infant Louis XV. Sade’s difficulties came not from unorthodox behavior, but from having that behavior made public in the press at a time when the Ancien Regime was teetering on political revolution. So, he was made a convenient scapegoat, one designed to draw attention from many similar acts happening at Versailles. Whether he deserve the full extent of his subsequent infamy is the subject of debate, but Donald Thomas’ book is one that I highly recommend for anyone who is interested in the matter.

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Masque Russian Tea

Photo: iStock via foodandwine.com

Photo: iStock via foodandwine.com

Imagine yourself camping in a forest, sipping tea by the fire. Bright, green mint and a dollop of raspberries float in your mug of black Lapsang Souchong whose leaves you’ve toasted in a cast-iron skillet to release their smoky darkness and delicate nuttiness. The campfire billows out smoke from cade and birch logs, each coated with blackened tar that smells like butch leather as much as burnt, singed wood. Labdanum amber glows like coals amidst the flames, and release a meaty, musky warmth.

Photo: "Controlled Burn" by Kevin Cooley. Source: indulgd.com or http://indulgd.com/controlled-burns-by-kevin-cooley/

Photo: “Controlled Burn” by Kevin Cooley at http://indulgd.com/controlled-burns-by-kevin-cooley/

The smell of your tea rises in the air, sending out streamers of cool mint and juicy raspberry to counter the billowing campfire smoke. Bright freshness and fruited sweetness vie with multi-faceted smoke, leather, tar, and woods, all enveloped by the fire’s soft warmth. You take out a pipe, stuff it with dark tobacco, and light it as you sip your tea in the flickering light of the warm fire which serves as a beacon in the dark forest, casting shadows upon the desiccated remains of nearby trees, and creating a woody-ambered dryness. It would be a lovely picture were it not for a few issues, one of which is that you’re also being doused with arid, harshly acrid, and often antiseptic-smelling chemicals that pour down on you like heavy rain.

Unfortunately, that was not my only difficulty with Russian Tea, a popular fragrance released last year that I’ve absolutely dreaded covering for the last two months. It actually took me a few attempts to get through wearing the fragrance all the way through, instead of quickly scrubbing it off, but at least it eventually gets better after its very abrasive opening hours. Well, somewhat better. In general, Russian Tea has not been a joyous experience.

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