A Homecoming Dream


A review of Etat Libre d’Orange’s ‘Tilda Swinton Like This’

Sometimes, you can encounter a combination of disparate elements that in theory seem so utterly wrong and alien, you wonder how it can ever work. Scallops in a vanilla-white wine sauce, dark chocolate and curry, lavender cupcakes – all the things that shouldn’t work yet somehow do, sometimes beautifully, sometimes not.

Then come the occasions when you wonder why no one thought of it before. When idea and execution come together in a flux so seamless, the result seems like some elegant, effortless sleight-of-hand, and the rabbit out of that hat has orange fur with gold-brown polka dots and will redefine the word ‘rabbit’ for all time to come in your own mind. One singular combination – but it still has long ears, a fluffy tail and eats the carrots in your garden.

Etat Libre d’Orange’s ‘Tilda Swinton – Like This’ is one such rabbit. When it was released last year, I read the reviews and thought to myself: Pumpkin perfume? Gingerbread? Pumpkin pie? R-e-a-l-l-y now…

Famous last words. Because on May 5th, ‘Like This’ won the Fragrance Foundation France’s award – the perfume world’s equivalent of an Oscar – for best specialty/niche fragrance, a distinction I personally think Etat Libre richly deserves for several reasons.

For one thing, this isn’t anything like a Demeter. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s not about the pumpkin at all, or even anything normally categorized as ‘gourmand’. It could be me, but I don’t get anything resembling ‘pumpkin pie’ in the least – and that’s a good thing.

Right away, I get a tangy, sharp zing of mandarin and ginger, an electric bolt of summer, heat and all things ‘happy’ to my nose, but that’s just the beginning, there’s this indescribable crème brûlée scent of almost-burnt sugar and within moments, an earthier ribbon of vetiver and what I suspect might be that ‘pumpkin accord’ weave their way into the picture. I can smell neroli, too, and rose, say the notes, but the neroli is dancing a joyful fandango on my skin and I never notice that. What I most definitely notice is immortelle creeping in to the limelight like some sentient vine, shooting sunshine-yellow blooms unfolding in fast-forward on my skin to sing the song immortelle sings so well.

The worst thing I can say about ‘Like This’ is that if you hate immortelle, this probably won’t change your mind. I thought I did. I thought that maple syrup+curry were vastly overrated, and I thought I would hate this, but if it’s the vetiver, the heliotrope, that pumpkin thang, or just my ever-expanding olfactory horizons, I don’t care and know less, since I have to sit down. I feel dizzy, dizzy in a way that happens more frequently these days, in the grip of some inarticulate emotion that boils down to…happy. Not ecstatic, not delirious, not my usual overexcited puppy-dog mode, but happy-content, happy-comforted, happy-peaceful, happy in a way that makes me want to laugh at nothing more and nothing less than the simple, incredible pleasure of being alive in my skin, in this moment, in this company. I applied liberally this morning, and these thirteen hours later, a hint of skin-but-better still remains.

‘Like This’ is …a dream of a homecoming, when you have sampled a taste of all the adventures this world has to offer, and it was…enough. It’s when open arms reach out to hold you and draw you inside to a fireside and a perfect cup of Darjeeling with two warm gingersnaps on the saucer, and you feel body and soul come completely together for the first time in a long time, because you’re…home.

It’s that perfect, contented moment, a fleeting flower frozen in amber for eternity, that you will love and cherish always.

It’s like saying goodbye to a lover on a Sunday morning, when he pulls you close and asks: “What will it be like, when I see you again?”

And you grab his shirt and pull his head down to yours and brush a taste of firelight and spice across his lips and you say:

“Like this.

Notes: Yellow mandarin, ginger, pumpkin accord, immortelle, Moroccan neroli. Grasse rose, vetiver, heliotrope, musk

I have never drained a sample vial so fast in my entire life. If that’s not love…

Disclosure: Sample generously provided by Anthony of NkdMan, who gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse!

Image: Fossil Mall