I was in a small boutique when I first smelled this fragrance. It was after a long day at work, and I happened to be in the area; I was actually exhausted, but I couldn't resist the temptation to make a quick detour.
Despite the fact that I really liked the store, I felt unavoidably uncomfortable. I was clearly underdressed compared to the customer in front of me, and the look from the owner of this haute perfumerie unfortunately confirmed that feeling. I would have loved to hold my nose to all those flacons, but my courage only stretched to having three scents sprayed on me (no one would dare to touch the flacons in this store themselves!)... so I had three scents sprayed on feathers, instead of scent strips, which I received somewhat reluctantly from the gentleman.
One of them was 4.1 Le Musc & La Peau. At first, I was surprised because the scent clearly smelled off. I asked if everything was alright with the fragrance, which was answered with a strict and not at all amused yes. I kept smelling the feather, but the biting smell of alcohol just wouldn't go away. A bit disappointed - as I had been really looking forward to this scent - I left the store.
On the way home, I took the feather with the scent out of my bag a few more times..
And then suddenly it happened: the alcohol had vanished, and a wonderful freshness emerged.. suddenly a gentle sea breeze wafted around my nose, very fine and quiet. Warm and a little spicy.
When I later sprayed the sample on my skin for the first time, I was surprised. The scent was different. Closer, more intimate. Instead of nature and spray, I suddenly smelled an incredibly fragrant skin.
I know people whose skin smells strongly like this or something similar..
What a masterpiece that can capture such a scent.
And with that, I immediately encountered the big problem I have with this fragrance. I felt just like Jean-Baptiste Grenouille. As if I had robbed another person of their scent! A person with a wonderful natural smell.. as if I had put on another skin, which smells incredibly good, but simply isn't mine.
It's like an intimate hug with a completely unfamiliar person. The hug could be beautiful, but it just doesn't fit in that moment. It is inappropriate for the situation.
A part of me wants to smell this beautiful fragrance often, and another part simultaneously shouts loudly, "No, this is wrong!" and is even slightly repulsed when I smell it on myself.
Nevertheless, I can only say that I find it incredibly special.
Although I have a divided relationship with this fragrance, I am once again amazed at the psychological power that scents exert, and I am grateful for the experience that 4.1 Le Musc & La Peau has given me.
I really love the scent. I find your relationship with it fascinating. Is it even possible to embrace a stranger intimately? Does the strangeness turn into familiarity in that moment? Or were the people perhaps never completely strangers? It's like meeting someone who feels familiar in a certain way... Thank you for this great review about your thoughts and feelings connected to the scent!
A great review (with a comparison to a wonderful novel 🙂).
I can totally relate to you. Sometimes, fragrances can be incredibly beautiful and artistically interesting, but just not wearable for oneself. That's how I feel about Un Jardin à Cythère, for example.
Totally interesting! The first time I thought, "This smells like someone really amazing - what a shame I don't smell like that!" But I managed to literally wear the scent. Now I don't associate it with anyone else. Good thing I smell so great 😇😎
Very interesting experience you're sharing with us in the review. I don't know the scent, but I'm VERY curious to try it. I'm a bit surprised that you still gave the scent a 9 in your rating!? Best, 🌸 Anne
Definitely give it a try! Maybe it will create a different perception for you ;)
It would have really hurt me to rate this exciting scent poorly, especially since it’s truly wonderful in its own way. I don’t have those associations of “this feels wrong” with others, just with myself.. best regards!
The scent is truly a skin enhancer; I had it for a while too, but the (albeit subtle) aquatic note eventually bothered me. Definitely a skin scent, but for the sweet child, I think it's still not "human" or animalic enough. For an even more pronounced Grenouille effect, I recommend Ambilux ;-) PS: After some experience through Parfumo, I can say that the really good salespeople in niche perfumeries are not condescending; they are often up for a chat about fragrance preferences and give great recommendations. Don't let that intimidate you!
Wow, thanks for the tip! I read your great and interesting description of Ambilux, and it made me curious. It could be that it triggers the same ambivalence for me / the same feeling of "wearing" someone else's skin (Ambilux & ambivalence, haha, very nice). But just like with Le Musc & La Peau, I would probably still be fascinated, and that alone is worth the test. So, thank you for the inspiration! 😃 I'm definitely excited to see if I can smell this Ambilux person well ;)
Very intriguing and interesting thoughts on this fragrance, which I definitely want to try as well. I think your review is absolutely great and worth reading!!! And please don't let those arrogant snobs behind the counter intimidate you during your next perfume shop visit!!!!
Pierre Guillaume seems to be quite the trickster. I've tested many of his fragrances: wonderfully beautiful ones and some completely offbeat, hideous, and just interesting but not wearable for me. His range covers everything, and some feel like a wink; this scent seems to be one of those. Grenouille is definitely daringly hidden and smiles friendly behind Pierre Guillaume's mask. And there are always surprises.
For example, I don't like skin scents on myself. On others, they can be enchanting for me.
Pierre Guillaume is not a misanthrope. Grenouille is a fictional character with an absolute sense of smell who goes insane and becomes perverse because he can't interact normally with people; he can't stand them because he can smell EVERYTHING. He turns into a cannibal, and the climax is the final scene. He creates a perfume that can turn all humans into cannibals. Everyone devours each other. Patrick Süskind is also a reclusive person who you rarely see, especially not in the media.
All the characters from these neo-romantic novels, who have some absolute sense: hearing (like in *Brother of Sleep*?), seeing; (Kaspar Coppenrath falls apart because of it). They are fictional characters. They are sensorially fictional protagonists with an absolute sense: What if we could have absolute senses? But Pierre Guillaume is completely different; there used to be a blog here about him, maybe you'll find it.
A lovely comment! But Grenouille was a misanthrope after all... I really hope he stays away from this and any other Pierre Guillaume perfume of ours x)
I can totally relate to you. Sometimes, fragrances can be incredibly beautiful and artistically interesting, but just not wearable for oneself. That's how I feel about Un Jardin à Cythère, for example.
Let's give it another try. Maybe something will come of me and my AF after all.
I regularly smell my sample and enjoy this scent... maybe I'll manage to wear it someday too :)
I'll send you a DM.
It would have really hurt me to rate this exciting scent poorly, especially since it’s truly wonderful in its own way. I don’t have those associations of “this feels wrong” with others, just with myself.. best regards!
PS: After some experience through Parfumo, I can say that the really good salespeople in niche perfumeries are not condescending; they are often up for a chat about fragrance preferences and give great recommendations. Don't let that intimidate you!
For example, I don't like skin scents on myself. On others, they can be enchanting for me.
All the characters from these neo-romantic novels, who have some absolute sense: hearing (like in *Brother of Sleep*?), seeing; (Kaspar Coppenrath falls apart because of it). They are fictional characters. They are sensorially fictional protagonists with an absolute sense: What if we could have absolute senses? But Pierre Guillaume is completely different; there used to be a blog here about him, maybe you'll find it.