Yes, Please Pekji 2021

There are phases where I am truly tired of scents, my interest in the countless new releases wanes, and my attention can thankfully turn to other things that are at least as close to my heart.
However, reliably, sooner or later, a representative of its kind comes around the corner to pull me out of my olfactory lethargy and remind me how exciting and thrilling the world of fragrances can be, and how beautiful it is to still be able to "burn" for it.

Necessarily, it doesn't have to be a new discovery that is responsible for this: it can also be a scent I have long since sniffed that ignites me, one that perhaps didn't catch my attention initially, or another from its group that stole the show from it, or I simply wasn't ready for it yet, had to take a detour through scent X and scent Y, or it was simply chance that brought the sample back into my hands - sometimes it takes a few encounters before it clicks!

Two years ago, I found "Yes, Please" quite nice, but apparently not nice enough that it, to use a modern term, 'picked me up.'
At that time, I received a whole sample set from Ömer's new fragrance series, which I found quite challenging overall, but not uninteresting. How could it be otherwise: Ömer İpekçi cannot make uninteresting fragrances, at least I don't know any! Still, none of them really blew me away.
At first.

The sample set moved on, but I had "Flesh" under my nose again several months later and was completely thrilled. A few months later, it was "Yes, Please" this time, and I thought: Wow!, what a great scent! How could I have overlooked it before?!

I fear the whole line - the perfumer calls it his "Reset Collection" - tends to be overlooked because, unlike his previous works, the new ones are certainly more cumbersome, disharmonious, and less 'catchy.'
While they may reveal Ömer's artistic potential more clearly than his earlier works, they are indeed less Puccini and more Schönberg, meaning: less accessible, and yes, also less trivial. Not that his earlier creations were trivial, no (even Puccini is not trivial, at least most of the time), but one or another olfactory aria was quicker and easier to decipher: for example, rose and amber intonate the all-too-familiar Oriental sound; patchouli, cistus, and earthy vetiver the dark earth theme; amber, mastic, lavender, and a herbal choir sing of the Mediterranean coastlines. Everything somehow familiar and locatable, but still quirky and strong enough in character to reveal a distinct signature.

But "Yes, Please," "Purpl," "Flesh," and "Blacklight"?
Well, "Blacklight" is still somewhat quickly understandable: the scent is cool, oscillating between bright aldehydes and deep black leathery smoke, it quite plausibly represents scented black light. And "Flesh"? Well, the musky powder, iris, and ambrette: the familiar skin theme, but what on earth is with the bucket of wall paint? "Purpl," finally, with vinyl, sweat, and strawberries - what the f*ck?! And now this shake of cognac, pear, and grapefruit, garnished with peppery rose and surrounded by an undefinable stink that almost makes me gag.
Forget "Yes, Please" - "No, Thanks!!!"

What is this?
Usually, animalistic additions are hidden more among the base notes: here a bit of fecal civet, there a trace of leathery castoreum, perhaps a hint of dirty, lustful musk. But this doesn't smell like an animal and practically hits you in the face, just like that, 'in your face,' smack!

Well, I have no idea. The few available comments on this scent are rather vague. The Sichuan pepper? The combination of grapefruit, pear, and cognac? Or is it a nasty musk connection?
In any case, it stinks.
Somehow, though, not unpleasant.
From test to test - this bizarre intro increasingly captivates me - the bristled nose hairs actually begin to relax slowly, and after a while, I suddenly find this disruptive note, this party crasher of an otherwise quite harmonious rosy-fruity interaction, even attractive!
Rarely has repeated testing of a fragrance taught me such a better lesson. Yes, I must even say that it has taught me the true essence of this work only gradually. Which brings me back to Schönberg, who also does not reveal himself immediately, into whom one must always listen deeply again and again, just as one should not trust one's first impression here, but should always take a deep sniff.

Today, I no longer find this disruptive note bothersome at all; on the contrary - I would miss it if it suddenly weren't there. Yes, it has to be there, it needs to be. Perhaps the scent would simply be too harmless without it. In any case, it gains not only tension from it but also delicacy, an unexpectedly attractive charm that would make me answer the question: more of this?, instantly with: yes, please!

Later, this disharmonious starting chord increasingly morphs into a reconciliatory, sensually pleasing harmony of fruity accents, beautifully balanced between sweet and sour, a floral presence, without any floral shop stuffiness or sickly-sweet indolic notes, a distinctly boozy quality, clouded by fine trails of incense, subtly flavored with vanilla.
A distant echo of the initial 'stink' remains until the end, although weakening, but present enough to maintain the tension and keep the attractiveness alive.

Ömer recommends:

“For your first time, I highly recommend putting on a sweet song and overspraying the fragrance. Even if you are normally a skeptical jerk.”

Me, a skeptical jerk?
No, definitely not.
Therefore, yes please, more of this!