I originally sampled and reviewed independent Swiss perfumer Vero Kern’s Rubj just over a year ago, and this is what I said about it then:
“Rubj is an opulent floral that even a woods and leather fragrance fanatic can enjoy. The orange blossom intro is pulpy tart and tangy acidic; the cool, white, night-blooming jasmine at the heart is captured as if in mid-flight; and the musky base is one smooth slip-n-slide into warm, embraceable goodness swathed in layers of patchouli and sweet smoke.”
I still can’t tell you what the h*** the word “Rubj” means as a title for a perfume, though I’ve searched the internet high and low for answers. Perhaps it’s a derivative of “ruby”, as each one of Kern’s three fragrances exhibit faceted, jewel-like tendencies — Onda as a sparkling gold/yellow citrine, Kiki an iridescent rhinestone flashing through an array of unlikely colors.
But maybe that’s all part of Ms. Kern’s plan — to create some mystery around the fragrance and leave everyone guessing what it is that she might be trying to say. If so, Rubj more than rises to the mystery challenge, peeling away in expert layers that at first bewilder (“Plum jam and jasmine? Immortelle aged in sherry casks? Merlot soaked patchouli leaves? I don’t understand!!”), but after repeated encounters, a finely detailed landscape begins to unspool right before your eyes and you wonder, “Why didn’t I see that before? How could I have missed how beautiful this really is?”
Right out of the gate, Rubj is a wave of pulpy-sweet orange blossom (a traditional symbol of purity and innocence) followed by the more fleshy, hedonistic scent of jasmine, which lends the fragrance its sense of “duality” (as described by Ms. Kern herself in the January 6th, 2009 issue of Sniffapalooza magazine), but waiting patiently (VERY patiently) beneath the flowers is a surprising, and even striking, mix of what seems like immortelle, patchouli and a hit of sweet smoke.
I don’t encounter this particular rich base layer every time I wear Rubj, but I do meet it in full force when I’m puffing away on the cardio machine in the evening after a full day of Rubj wear. Once my metabolism starts chugging and my body heats up, the waft of leathery, resinous base materials that elbows a path through the fruit and flowers is nothing short of stunning.
Christopher Voigt at Vetivresse writes of Rubj: “At first approach, one’s nose might characterize this as borderline fruity, but there’s enough complexity lurking underneath to turn your eyes off the dessert platter and into the candlelit bedroom.”
Other impressions of Rubj:
Patty at Perfume Posse: “As the orange blossom and jasmine start to head off down the path to opulent floralland, it gets snatched to the ground and pummeled with a good dose of earthiness . . . so while the notes sound like a simple white floral, there is a lot more going on with this that keeps me snuffling around it in the drydown.”
Suzanne at Eiderdown Press: “Rubj to me is like the love child of Serge Lutens ‘A La Nuit’ and Frederic Malle ‘Carnal Flower’ … the smell of carnal decadence and soaring transcendence existing, intertwined . . . You would think it would be overpowering, but I find it isn’t, most likely because all of the Vero Profumo perfumes are extraits (pure parfums)–so they stay closer to the skin without the heavy boost of alcohol that one finds in a lesser concentration.”
The Non-Blonde: “Opulent and petal-like … it’s such a happy scent, full of sunshine, thanks to the orange blossom, and very much alive. The jasmine is all flesh and blood (a nice way to say indolic, I guess) and makes one feel very much alive even before the musk makes appearance. I’m not sure what kind of musk it is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s somewhat related to the one in CB Musk, since my skin makes it sweet with a berry note.”
Speaking of that berry note, I recall my testing experience with Tabac Aurea by Sonoma Scent Studio — after hours of leather swathed in tobacco and labdanum, a tart berry note began to glimmer from the musk in the base. I found it a fascinating and clever way for Ms. Erickson to confound expectations in her Tabac Aurea, and I feel the same way regarding Ms. Kern’s white musk curveball at the base of the otherwise heavy-lidded Rubj.
Rumor has it that Ms. Kern is working on EDP versions of all three of her fragrances, and that they will be available in the Spring of 2010. In the tradition of fine French perfumery (Ms. Kern was trained in Paris), the EDP versions won’t be simple dilutions of the existing parfums, but new formulations designed to showcase overlooked elements while taking advantage of the benefits a lighter EDP formulation can offer.
I’ve been wanting to purchase Vero Profumo perfumes as Christmas and birthday gifts ever since I first discovered the Vero Profumo brand in 2008, but the steep price point always made me hesitate. A more affordable yet still exceptionally high quality EDP collection from Ms. Kern’s direction is welcome news indeed.
The packaging for the present collection of extraits is Swiss minimal — the tiny 15ml fired-glass, amber-dyed bottle arrived in a plain sheath of rough purple fabric. The neck of the bottle is wrapped with a bright silk cord and embellished with a thin metal circle printed with the name of the fragrance. The stopper is clear glass and indented as if awaiting two perfect fingertips to lift it from the bottle.
For the price being charged, I wouldn’t have minded a bit more oomph! in the packaging department: a box, a ribbon around the cloth sheath, a snap closure . . . something! The presentation is a little too modest for the genuine artistry of the Vero Profumo brand, though both Andy Tauer and Vero Kern are alike in this respect — both of them Swiss perfumers, both of them absurdly creative and talented, and both of them close to self-effacing in their packaging choices, almost as if to say, “Well, here’s a little trinket, it’s nothing, really — maybe you’ll like it?”
Yes Vero, I love it.
***Note: I purchased this bottle of Rubj because I felt that the Vero Profumo brand was worth talking about — while I appreciated the artistry of Rubj, I honestly didn’t think it would be something I would wear beyond the two week exploration period. But the first day I had it on, I walked through the kitchen and the BF stopped what he was doing (making a sandwich), looked at me and said, “What is that you’re wearing? I *really* like it!” I about fell over in surprise. Plummy? Floral? Patchoui? “It’s different,” he said. “Fresh, without smelling like it’s trying to be fresh.” So there you go — Rubj is now on regular rotation, and I’m rethinking my previous aversion to overt florals, not to mention my assumed deep-seated loathing for immortelle. Darn you, Vero Kern!
You can find Rubj (as well as other Vero Profumo fragrances) at the Vero Profumo website, or if you’re in the United States, you can find them at Lucky Scent.
