When I spray this, I am transported back in time. Say, 16th-century France, the Labourd region. Under Pierre de l'Ancre's jurisdiction, around 100 so-called witches are executed, burned at the stake. Some are already ashes, scattered around, while others melt to the bone in the flames. The air is suffused with the strong smell of burning flesh, sulfur, and ash; a pitiful view. I move away from the spectacle and up the hill toward the abbey where a ceremony is held to exalt the unhappy wretch’s souls. Bending down, I plunge my hand into the wet soil and pull out a fistful of earth. I rub my hands together and smell the earth to clear my nostrils of that gut-wrenching scent. Inside the abbey, censers brim with incense as clouds of smoke rise into the air alongside those poor, innocent people’s souls.
That is what Holy Shit makes me think. Yes, that is the name of the perfume. And no, it is not part of the past couple of years' and current trend of baptizing each perfume as ludicrous as possible in order to grab buyers’ attention. Holy Shit came out in 2015. Ömer Ipekçi’s work left a positive impression on me: experimental and daring but also beautifully crafted. Zeybek is another one I deeply love. Back then, I didn’t manage to grab a bottle of Holy Shit. My interest was piqued by the commotion it caused in the community, especially by Pregoni’s scornful review. If something can move Angelo to write about it, good or bad, I’m bound to try it. It took me a long time to finally get my hands on a bottle, after messaging Ömer about it for years. Nevertheless, it finally came to fruition, as he made me a great surprise in 2026.
And yes, it is as dark as I described it. That is what it makes me think of. Burnt meat, sulfur, ash, heaps of incense with a sharp metallic bite, roots pulled out of the ground, soiled leather cloths, cold stone walls, furred winged beasts hanging from the roof, and moss creeping up the walls. I don’t know the notes or the materials used, but I imagine there is some Agarwood in here, definitely costus, castoreum, oakmoss, angelica root, among others. There is a powerful sulfurous note in the first thirty minutes that smells to me like striking a match. And an ashy accord for most of the time. It opens up and gets better with each subsequent wear. At first, all I got was hot metal, striking a match, incense, and ash. Once my nose got used to that assault, it revealed further facets: roots, earth, oakmoss, costus, leather, spices, and oud. It gets more woody and mossy as it dries down. Sometimes I even get the impression of tobacco. Overall, it is a dark and woody incense perfume.
The name is indeed humorous, perhaps satirical, but not misplaced. Holy, or rather Unholy, and Shit! Well, that’s exactly what I thought when I first sprayed the perfume.
