androgenie

Karma feels to me is the epitome of “statement” stereotypes, which is a made-up word for me to describe the genre of stereotypes that seem tame or even culturally empowering, but in fact still deeply rooted in the way the sub-culture is seen by the dominant culture.

The artistic gays, bisexuals with cuffed jeans and frogs, goth “mommys” all dolled up, AuADHD folks with some kind of geniuses or “superpowers”…the list goes on and on and on, and you’d find much better examples in any books and articles about stereotypes and prejudices.

Karma, to me, is in itself a tame perfume. It smells like a stale orange soda with a bunch of cheap incense, like those in the vintage stores that are used to mask the odor of the used clothes (and typically, I would avoid those kind of stores, because they tend to be of low-quality and overpriced). Nothing more, nothing less. Personally not a favorite. Nothing to write home about. Sure, the patchouli here is dirty and heavy, and the combination of essential oils feel majestic and unique at first, but I’ve smelled worse things, and far much more unique concoctions of scent both in the perfume stores and in the nature.

Then, the association with the “statement” stereotypes comes. I mean, the Lush company itself is the biggest perpetrator of that. Wear this if you want to be a cool stoner. Wear this if you are a goth hottie. Like this or u r a prep! It’s much worse on that F site, but the message is still the same. A rebellious streak that actually heads to the further caging of one’s imagination, creativity, and individuality.

I once owned this, and am ashamed of myself for having worn this cheap Halloween costume of a hippie and thought I was making a difference—that I was unique, I was creative, when in fact, I was just wearing a tasteless collar of a conformity and essentialism around my neck like a bling-bling.

This is the Sauvage of the 21st century sub-cultures. And I keep averting this and investing in something that I feel no pressure to like or dislike based on the cultural groups I belong to.

This scent is a linear mixture of kumquats and jasmine, which is in this case a creamy, rich floral. It is objectively beautiful, as it is my mom’s by far the most favorite, but something about this smells off to me. There is something cloying and off-putting at the base level of this scent, something that is concealed by the freshness of citrus. I get it, that sort of scent progression is very much normalized in perfumery—rich notes hidden by the initial blast of freshness—it’s an age-old formula. I think the reason why this is so off-putting to me is its relatively linear progression combined with crashing elements. The cloyingness stuck deep inside my nostrils sometimes actually makes me sick, as everything seems so blatant and ill-rounded to my nose.

I think I would prefer it in a form of bath goods, such as bath salts, which I associate with this whenever I get a whiff of my mom’s scent trail. Longevity and silage are both great for such a simple scent.

Obsession is a scent that kickstarted my journey into perfume smelling and collecting. I stumbled upon a review stating how warm and comforting the scent was (in a very memorable way for the reviewer) and put my hands on a vintage, early 90s batch of it online because I thought, why not? A perfume or two wouldn’t hurt. Spoiler alert; it would completely alter your life and add a new hobby to it!

Obsession, to me, smells stale. Sometimes, spices and woody scents have a “dry” quality, like a crisp woods or a hinoki box. This one, however, smells stale while simultaneously retaining the moist and liquidy aspect to it. It is like a spiced tea that has gone cold. Obsession is made distinct by the animatic notes, too. The stale moistness of the spices makes it feel somewhat dingy, while the animatic notes reminds me of carnal aspects of a nightlife. The overall impression is still warm and comforting, though. Shady lust that sometimes reveals its soft, approachable side from the fur coat. Is it genuine? We cannot tell.

Longevity and silage are both great. This would suit better if you are living in the drier part of the world. For me, as a Japanese living in Japan, which is notorious for its humidity and does not share the perfume culture in the same way the Western and Middle Eastern countries, I found it kind of hard to wear this in public. Obsession also taught me about the etiquette of wearing perfumes, and how selecting appropriate perfumes for my lifestyle can be good for both myself and people around me.

I think that now that my taste is more curated and refined, I do not think I would be blown away as much by this scent as the start of my hobby. I still think fondly of this scent, and long for the dangerously inviting yet biting smell wafting from the atomizer. I still associate my favorite character with this scent, too, because Obsession both drives me wild and waits for me to fall into its arms.

Ysatis, like many of the Givenchy fragrances, has a distinct character that you cannot mistake for any other perfumes. If you are to have acquainted yourself with this perfume, and to smell it in the air in the town, in the shop, in someone’s bedroom…you would immediately know it is Ysatis.

This is a treasure from the 80s, a bygone era, and you get the feeling of it by smelling the strong aldehydes mixed with a bouquet of white flowers, dominated by jasmine and ylang ylang. The flowers are still fresh, because I smell honey very strongly on my skin, almost to the point it turns somewhat urine-like. Very seductive and bold, strong, like power-suits and voluminous hair, which you know are decorating the tender shoulders and glimmering eyes in the most decadent way.

Unfortunately for me, however, the said boldness of the character makes it hard to wear the scent, instead of being worn by it. I like the concept of it better than the actual experience. Maybe someday.

This is one of the few scents that has blown me away with its simple, understated, and elegant art.

From the top to the middle, I detect both dry (with maybe a bit of juice on top to make it feel succulent and fresh) orange peels and the woody vetiver. Cedar is the baseline for me from start to finish, but it shines all the brighter in the very end. This scent is simple, with for me three notes coexisting in harmony, but the simplicity is where the charm lies. I don’t feel suffocated by this scent, nor do I get bored by it. Sometimes, the simpler the better, and this scent is a good example of it in perfumery.

As a more personal note, this scent makes me feel confident in my skin, since it also has a duality or an air of androgyny. This scent is simultaneously a crisp air around the shoulders of your fancy suits, and a laid-back aura of your casual, authentic self. This scent does not scream for attention or asserts unrealistic hypermasculinity that pushes nonconforming people away, and that has become, sadly, a unique thing in the masculine side of the community and market.

This scent is an understated statement. Comforting, cool, dry and elegant.