Zoologist Bee Review – 2019

The nose has been seeking new adventures. As the lights of Christmas were packed away and the Twiglets became nothing more than a scattering of brown crumbs in the bottom of the tub and everybody finally stopped complaining that the turkey was too dry this year (which is the most Groundhog Day of yuletide rituals I’ve encountered during all my years in the UK, but never mind…) I found myself reaching for the various perfume samples I’ve neglected over the last few weeks, hoping to find some excitement to bring to your attention.

One of them was an outright disappointment: The Different Company Majaina Sin. As soulless and vapid a shampoo-musky, faux-exotic floral as you could hope to find in some adolescent deodorant lurking at Tesco. A low point for a brand that seems to have lost its way in recent years.

The so-called Clash series from Comme Des Garcons was more interesting. But then just about anything would have been more interesting. Three scents supposedly conveying unusual olfactory clashes: Radish Vetiver, Chlorophyll Gardenia and Celluloid Galbanum. What struck me most while wearing them was that ‘Clash’ is too disingenuous a label in this case. Depending on how you look at it, it would have been more accurate to call the series ‘Defeat’ or ‘Victory’. Because the perfumes don’t actually manage to express a sense of conflict. After a few seconds of hopping across some vaguely onion-y vegetal notes, Radish Vetiver settles quite decisively on the latter. Chlorophyll Gardenia takes very little time to err on the side of a pretty safe (but pretty) white floral. And Celluloid Galbanum (arguably the most compelling of the three) far too quickly becomes a kind of ‘No 19 seen through a thick pane of glass’. Simple, well made fragrances to be sure… but ‘clash’? I don’t think so.

Tauer Perfumes Les Annees 25 Bis made me realise – not for the first time – how sad it is that the original Annees 25 was a limited edition. It was without question one of the most seductive retro-inflected scents of the last few years: a seamless amber composition – channelling all the finest aspects of Shalimar – with a citrus opening that seemed capable of shining a smile into the darkest corners of the world (and heaven knows there are some very dark corners at the moment). The new Annees 25 Bis is very good (Tauer’s work is consistently high quality) but I can’t say it grabbed my heart in quite the same way as its departed sibling did. There’s something weightier about it, something reticent, a sense of reluctance. The emphasis seems to have been placed on the base notes at the expense of those glorious citruses. A pall of weariness has settled on a composition that was lovable precisely because it was so exuberant and sprightly. 

Eris Mxxx made me sit up and pay attention. So much so that I shall do my best to compose a separate review of it soon… time and other commitments and the Fates permitting. Eris is a brand to which I haven’t devoted much space on this site because… well, because of time and other commitments and the Fates. But for now suffice it to say that if the idea of a leather that manages to be both sophisticated and animalic appeals to your inner beast, then you need to find this stuff without delay. And I don’t mean that figuratively: Mxxx is a limited edition and I expect it will win quite a few fans very soon indeed.  

But perhaps the most intriguing find came from the most unexpected quarter: Zoologist Bee. So far, I’ve viewed this line’s output with suspicion: I’m wary of anything gimmicky, and the idea of scents inspired by different animals – all of which have been anthropomorphised on the packaging – sends my eyebrows shooting well beyond the upper limits of my forehead. Which is saying something, seeing as my YouTube viewers tell me I have an extremely expressive forehead. But Bee elicited a chuckle of approval from me (together with the equivalent configuration of lines and furrows on my forehead). It is – guess what! – a honey scent. But to me, the obviousness of that came as a delightful surprise. I had no idea what to expect from the fragrance… and then when I smelt it – and produced the aforementioned chuckle (plus furrows on forehead) – I thought, ‘Ah, of course. Bees. And honey.’

It works from start to finish, locking all its sweet, mimosa-powdery, orange-flowery, sandalwoody, tonka-beany facets into a neat honeycomb pattern that feels ordered and refined, even whilst vibrating with an almost palpable energy. I was impressed. And so was my forehead.

[Samples of all of the above obtained by me in 2019.] 

Persolaise

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