Eris Ma Bete, Belle De Jour, Mx and Night Flower Review – Antoine Lie

Some brands take me a while to find. I don’t mean that literally. The samples may be in my possession – labelled vials waiting patiently in a padded envelope – but for some reason, the timing isn’t quite right. Perhaps there’s something about the concept that I find gimmicky and off-putting. Or maybe the work has been hyped up to suspicious proportions. Or maybe too many distractions keep getting in the way. Whatever the cause, I pick up the envelope, weigh its contents, and then decide to put it away — to save it for another day. In my more fanciful moments, I like to think that some unseen cosmic hand is leading me in this merry dance of approaches and retreats. That somewhere, someone is keeping track of when the right time is going to arrive. The teacher appearing when the pupil is ready, the stars aligning etc etc. One brand that’s followed this circuitous path and taken a long time to ‘reach’ me is Eris.

Through no fault of its founder, the New York-based set up has caused me to experience an inordinate number of ‘arrgh’ moments. Soon after it launched, the creative force behind its debut quartet, Barbara Herman (author of Scent & Subversion) got in touch to ask if she could send me some samples. Cut to many, many months later and at least two thwarted attempts at email interviews (again, through no fault of Ms Herman’s), interspersed with several instances of me skirting around the scents themselves and – rather inexplicably – refusing to pluck up the courage (that is the word that floated up into my mind just now, so I won’t question it) to stick them under my nose and just smell them.  

I think, in this case, the resistance stemmed partly from my reaction to my very brief intro to the brand. When the samples arrived, I liberated them from their padding and immediately reached for the one with what I thought was the most promising name: Belle De Jour (2016). Yes, please, a spot of olfactory Deneuve will do very nicely, I thought. But what emerged from the vial prompted the tell-tale lip curls of disappointment. A white floral – orange blossom + jasmine – haunted by the hairspray largesse of the 1980s. Yes, there was something borderline compelling in the base – a seaweed absolute, as it turns out – but not enough to convince me that this brand would have much to say to me. 

I was wrong. The brand has a great deal to say to me. And to all of us. Because it is the work of a bona fide perfume lover. And I’m not referring just to Herman here. All the scents have been composed by Antoine Lie (Etat Libre D’Orange Rien, Puredistance Warszawa) and you don’t get many perfumers who are as ‘aesthetically aware’ as he is. 

Thank goodness I pushed aside my response to Belle De Jour – which remains my least favourite in the range – and took the time to discover its companions. Because as a whole, they are a tribute to many of the most commendable attributes of the perfumes of yesteryear: attributes which are rarely found in modern scent creation. Ma Bete (2016) is a case in point. Smelling it as I type these words, I’m taken back to the very first image the scent conjured in my mind: walking into a dimly-lit antique shop – almost certainly somewhere in France – and picking up a small, dusty, half-empty bottle of some vintage marvel. A composition from a time when perfumes had teeth, when Bandit might have seemed a bit tame. This is a taut, steel-jawed, animalic leather, exuding a sweaty physicality that only serves to make its relatively ‘innocent’ materials – such as the neroli and the nutmeg – even raunchier. In the likes of Vierges Et Toreros and Tom Of Finland, Lie showed that he knows how to control the roar of claw-bearing beasts; Ma Bete displays this talent to an even more praiseworthy degree. 

Mx (2017) impresses with its never-too-overpowering blend of spices. And what a blend it is: pepper, ginger, saffron and cacao given a lift and translucency I don’t think I’ve smelt since Tauer’s Eau D’Epices. I’m not sure how convinced I am by the unisex card the scent tries to play – if we’re talking stereotypes, then the leather facet probably steers it closer to what’s usually considered masculine territory – but that’s a minor gripe in a piece of work as finely legible as this. (For my thoughts on its even more muscular older cousin, click on this link: Eris Mxxx review)

The crowning achievement is Night Flower (2016). Yes, it’s another leather. (I think there are no doubts about where Herman’s olfactory preferences lie.) But there is something so seductive about its suede-like softness – something so disarming – that it almost convinces you that you’re smelling a ‘gentle leather’ scent for the very first time. The cardamom opening adds a dash of cool intrigue. The tuberose and cinnamon bring heat and fleshiness. The musks blur the edges between all the disparate elements. And as you close your eyes, you feel a hand brush against the small of your naked back. An especially physical moment in a collection that is full of skin-tingling excitement. If you haven’t done so already, do make the effort to seek it out. 

[Review based on samples of eau de parfum provided by Eris in 2016 and 2017]

Persolaise

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