Yes, Please Pekji 2021

There are always these phases when I am downright tired of fragrances, my interest in the countless new releases wanes and my attention can fortunately turn to other things that are at least as important to me.
But sooner or later, sooner or later, a representative of his guild will reliably come around the corner to pull me out of my olfactory lethargy and remind me how exciting and thrilling the world of fragrance can be, and how nice it is to still be able to "burn" for it.

But it doesn't necessarily have to be a new discovery: I can also be ignited by a fragrance that I have already sniffed out a long time ago, which I may not have noticed at first, or another of its peers stole the show, or I simply wasn't ready for it yet and had to take a detour via fragrance X and fragrance Y, or it was simply chance that brought the sample back into my hands - sometimes it takes a few encounters for it to click!
Two years ago, I found "Yes, Please" quite nice, but apparently not nice enough for it to 'pick me up'.
At the time, I received a whole sample set of Ömer's new fragrance series, which I found quite challenging on the whole, but not uninteresting. As well as: Ömer İpekçi can't make uninteresting fragrances, at least I don't know any! But none of them really knocked me off my feet.
First of all.

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

I'm afraid the whole series - the perfumer calls it his "Reset Collection" - tends to be overlooked, because unlike his previous works, the new ones are certainly bulkier, more discordant, less 'catchy'.
Even if they reveal Ömer's artistic potency even more clearly than his first works, they are less Puccini and more Schönberg, in other words: less catchy, and yes, also less trivial. Not that his first works were trivial, no (Puccini is not trivial either, at least most of the time), but the one or other olfactory aria was faster and easier to decipher: rose and amber, for example, intonate the all-too-familiar oriental sound; patchouli, cistus and rooty vetiver the dark earth theme; ambergris, mastic, lavender and a chorus of herbs sing of the Mediterranean coastlines. It is all somehow familiar and locatable, but still idiosyncratic and strong enough to reveal its own signature.

But "Yes, Please", "Purpl", "Flesh" and "Blacklight"?
Well, "Blacklight" is still reasonably easy to understand: the scent is cool, oscillating between bright aldehydes and deep black, leathery smoke, it quite plausibly reflects black light turned into fragrance. And "Flesh"? Well, the musky powder, iris and ambrette: the familiar peau theme, but what on earth is the bucket of wall paint for? finally, "Purpl" 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 indefinable stink that almost makes me gag.
Not "Yes, Please" - "No, Thanks"!!!

What is that?
Animalic admixtures are usually hidden between the base notes: a little fecal civet here, a hint of leathery castoreum there, a hint of dirty, horny musk perhaps. But this one doesn't smell like an animal and is more or less thrown in the door, just like that, 'in your face', patsch!
Well, I have no idea. The few comments that can be found on this fragrance tend to poke around in the fog. The Szechuan pepper? The combination of grapefruit, pear and cognac? Or a nasty musk combination after all? In any case, it's tired.
But somehow not unpleasant.
From test to test - this bizarre intro captivates me more and more - the ruffled nasal hairs actually begin to relax slowly, and after a while, I suddenly even find this disruptive note, this party crasher of an otherwise quite harmonious, rosy-fruity coexistence, attractive!
Rarely has retesting a fragrance several times taught me better. In fact, I have to say that it has only gradually taught me the true nature of this work. Which brings me back to Schönberg, who is also not immediately accessible, who you have to listen deeply to again and again, just as you shouldn't trust your first impression here, but rather smell deeply into it again and again.

Today, I no longer find this disturbing note disturbing at all, quite the opposite - I would miss it if it were suddenly no longer there. No, it has to be there, it needs it. Perhaps the fragrance would simply be too harmless without it. In any case, with it, it not only gains excitement, but also delicacy, an unexpectedly attractive appeal that would make me answer the question: more of it? immediately: yes, please!
Later, this disharmonious initial accord morphs visibly into a conciliatory, flattering multi-sound of fruity accents, held in a beautiful balance between sweet and sour, a floral presence, without any florist's stickiness or ashy-sweet indolic, a distinctly boozy impression, cloudy with fine streaks of incense, discreetly flavored with vanilla.
However, a distant echo of the initial 'stench' remains until the end, weakening but present enough to maintain the tension and appeal.

By the way, 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!