Etat Libre d'Orange: Secretions Magnifiques

The art of perfumery is a weird, f***ed up amalgamation of scent, description and image, with both description and image successfully biasing the consumer in favor of the scent, justly or not.

Avery Gilbert, in his fascinating new book 'What the Nose Knows: The Science of Scent in Everyday Life', devotes a signifiant portion of his time detailing the many ways in which the human sense of smell can be manipulated into 1.) smelling something that isn't there; 2.) misdiagnosing a smell due to existing preconceptions; and 3.) reacting in a positive or negative way to a smell simply through the power of suggestion.

Which explains a lot really, especially if you've ever marveled at the breathtaking lunacy of perfume commercials:

Or rolled your eyes at pseudo-poetic descriptions of fragrances that sound as though they were written by pretentious art-poseurs for a high school creative writing class:

"Paestum Rose is a perfume that's rich and filled with meaning like the intimate opalescent blacks Caravaggio painted, instantly known and strangely unfamiliar. In this perfume we smell ancient beauty made thrillingly . . . "

Wait! That was written by a 45 year old gay man? Oh well, same difference.

And here we have upstart French perfume house, Etat Libre d'Orange, that takes this principal -- that image and suggestion dramatically influence our reaction towards scent -- and runs with it. Hard, fast, long and way too far.

Some rave about Etat's perfumes, while others think they're just over-hyped and over-rated, so I chose one of their more evocatively themed and provocatively named scents to review today to see just how much of what they offer is substance, and how much of it is simply a desperate collusion of image and marketing.

Secretions Magnifiques is our Exhibit A -- the PR copy so blatantly illustrated with a cartoon drawing of a man's cock spurting a fountain of semen is a perfect example of the use of provocative imagery to manipulate the consumer. Then there's the PR copy: "Like blood, sweat, sperm, saliva, Secretions Magnifiques is as real as an olfactory coitus that sends one into raptures . . . Masculine tenseness frees a rush of adrenalin in a cascade of high-pitched aldehydic notes" and blah blah blahbbity blah.

Look, spurting imagery and cascading prose aside, Secretions Magnifiques is a fair stab at the skin-scent category daintily wrapped in a sweet floral ribbon, though it starts off with such a gritty, metallic twang as to almost put me off the whole thing entirely; but once all the . . . uh . . . "tension" subsides, what's left is a medium-bodied musk, slightly salty, slightly soapy, sweetly floral, probably easy enough to wear and certainly not unattractive.

But I don't know where the hell they came up with all the blood, sweat, sperm and saliva. Again, this must be their attempt at utilizing distinctive imagery and descriptors to pushbutton the consumer into experiencing the perfume in a way that's substantively different from what the fragrance itself actually offers.

So . . . are people buying what the hype machine is selling? Let's see!

Bois de Jasmin: "the message it sends forth is one of raw power. Its potent sensuality makes it both fascinating and challenging . . . It may remind one of the scent of kisses on warm skin, or of something else far more risqué." Okay, score one for Etat Libre d'Orange.

PereDePierre: "I smell a strange, metallic floral, and quite a striking one at that. Sweet notes of chocolate and coconut contrast in a fascinating way with a peculiar salty note. Things get much tamer as the scent dries, and the foody and sandalwood aspects are emphasized." Hmmm, he concentrates on the scent rather than the exploding cock. Viva la resistance! The Age of Reason scores a point.

Scented Salamander: "To our nose, Sécrétions Magnifiques smells of albumen and sperm in a magnified way . . . We are left with two main impressions: rawness and coldness. The latter evokes a seducer rather than an authentic amorous exchange. The perfume could have been called Don Giovanni and reveal the inadequacy of its wearer to experience love." Okay, female reviewer #2 gets her knickers all in a bodily fluids tangle, as well. That's a score of 2 for Etat's marketing department, 1 for The Age of Reason.

Divine Caroline: "If you could smell it with a French accent, it'd be erotic, provocative, sensual, and dirty (in a lacey French way). In plain English, it's gross. Gross ... but also genius." You think she might be one of those people who are easily hypnotized? Etat -- 3, The Age of Reason -- 1.

A Minx by Any Other Name: "Perhaps the most childishly ill-concieved scent of the line, Secretions Magnifiques smells neither of secretions nor is it magnificent . . . It smells more of inorganic or chemical weirdness than any natural body scents I have encountered." Ha! The Age of Reason shoots and scores! Etat -- 3, Age of Reason -- 2.

Luca Turin: "Stupendous secretions! The Dada name had me drooling. The fragrance is both less and far more than I expected: it is not an animalic (supposedly) raunchy thing that works on the assumption that we collect soiled underwear or frequent the same nightclubs as cats and dogs. It is, however, an elegant fresh floral . . . given a demonic twist by a touch of a stupendous bilge note." I would say that Mr. Turin is on the side of Reason, but then he makes the unfortunate choice to continue on and "mount" an "impassioned" defense (yes, in those exact words) of the perfume's main ingredient, so it looks like Etat and its juvenile imagery wins again. Fight called due to technical KO.

It's more than likely that the perfume industry is completely aware of the scientific studies that resoundingly reveal how easy it is to push around our sense of smell, so what's most important for us, as perfume consumers, is to be aware of the influence peddlers when they come 'round spinning elaborate fantasies.

Rule of thumb: when a marketing hack opens his mouths to speak, he/she is manipulating. Even more so if it's in print. I mean, c'mon -- a perfume that allegedly smells like blood, sweat, saliva and sperm? That's a load of sh*t that's easy to smell, and from a long ways away.

FWIW: I also tested out Etat's Charogne. Charogne -- you know, French for "the carcass of a dead animal". Sex. Death. Whatever. It's really just a deep, dusky incense rose. With vanilla in it. If the carcasses of dead animals actually smelled this sweet, I'd be lobbying for a road kill museum . . . and I'm not.