Sous Le Manteau Review – Nathalie Feisthauer; 2016

When we say that a perfume projects a retro vibe, what we usually mean is that it smells like a composition from somewhere between the 1940s and the 1960s. But the five scents from Sous Le Manteau challenge us to push the scope of that word much further back, because collectively, they feel like they’ve stepped out of an apothecary from the most pungent corners of the Middle Ages. And with good reason, as they’ve all been inspired by a 19th century collection of love potion recipes discovered in a Parisian flea market by brand founder Olivia Bransbourg. Using her experience of and connections in the fragrance world, she turned to independent scent-maker Nathalie Feisthauer to help her create 21st-century-compatible renditions of some of the recipes. The result of their efforts is a brand that has already won plaudits across the industry, including a UK Fragrance Foundation award.

I’d say the praise is thoroughly well-deserved. I don’t have much time for attempts to present perfume as a luring device for potential mates – unless it’s framed as some kind of wry joke – but I do have plenty for projects that aim to distil the spirit of the past and make it relevant to contemporary times. And Sous Le Manteau achieves just that. To varying degrees, all of Feisthauer’s compositions here capture an atmosphere that I’m not sure can be found anywhere in the western world any more: that strange, part-frightening, part-reassuring, powdery-phenolic, super-scrubbed gust of air that always used to greet one’s arrival at a pharmacy. A convincing whisper from a mythical past, almost as though Friar Lawrence had a hand in putting together all the scents: calculating their potency carefully, before deciding which of them are to be locked away, safe from the reach of any star-crossed lovers. 

The least impressive is Fontaine Royale, where the hyper-saturated personality of several hard-hitting florals (jasmine, rose, geranium) creates something of a sticky mess. But from there, things begin to look up very quickly. Essence Du Serail takes our good Friar straight from his mortar and pestle to a North African patisserie, where the vestiges of his chemical labours combine with sugary orange blossom and other, sun-heated white florals. The ambery woods in the base may be overplayed, but there’s much to enjoy before you get to them.

Poudre Imperiale is probably the least olde worlde of the lot, running a pristine incense note through an assemblage of pepper, cinnamon and clean, chilled woods.With more than a hint of Comme Des Garcons White, it serves as a reminder of just how alluring and compelling a balance of the right spices can be when it isn’t overburdened by unnecessary additions. Cuir D’Orient is equally effective, using a gentle iris facet and, once again, cool spices, to underline a tender suede note. There’s no tannery bombast here: this is leather as a wafer-thin glove, caressing the curve of a body, allowing the heat of the hand inside to glow through the fabric.

Finally, Vapeurs Diablotines is a triumph for the sheer delight with which it lives up to its name. Using sharp, unearthly aldehydes, a convincingly mineralic heart (perhaps conjured by cedar and incense) as well as the leathery raunch of the Animalis base, it feels like the love-child of Lucifer and the Marquis De Sade, but dressed up in the oh-so-innocent-seeming finery of some cherub-eyed, lovable rogue. In other words, it transforms nastiness into the most attractive quality imaginable. And it does so with what feels like complete and utter ease. Consider me spell-bound.

Persolaise

[Sous Le Manteau review based on samples provided by the brand in 2020.]

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