Barre
riddle
I was trying to find a word to describe one of the prevailing tendencies of artisan perfumery, the exotic-liturgical one full of incense and spices, midway between Christmas pudding and Christmas Mass. My word for it was moody. Tania suggested emo. Both work. As everyone knows, goths and emos are the most civilized tribes, once you get past the eyeliner and black lace. And indeed much of Artisan perfumery behaves like a kitten trying to scare a bigger beast, all puffed up and sideways but basically pink nose and tiny teeth. There are some resplendent exceptions to this trend, notably Hiram Green and Parfum d’Empire. They and others produce fragrances that do not suffer from posture problems, unfold to full stature, and could be worn by a windswept figurehead on a ship’s bow or by a helmeted statue of Athena Nikê.
When I got the Barre samples, I expected emo, hoped for goddess, and got something else altogether. These perfumes are professional, well-put together in a quiet way that made me think of Emile Ajar. It was a pseudonym for a very famous French writer who wanted a second Prix Goncourt, submitted a novel as a supposed rookie, and was eventually exposed despite his efforts at not sounding too practiced. If indeed these are artisan perfumes composed by “visual artist and independent perfumer Bree Hyland, made in her studio located in rural Mi’kma’ki, Nova Scotia,” then I must conclude either that the perfumer is channelling vast amounts of telepathic knowledge from 1970s Grasse or is armed with a grimoire of formulae a foot thick.
Perhaps the most striking thing about Barre perfumes is the drydown, where most artisan perfumery fails when one or two materials are left standing in the buff when the tide goes out. Barre drydowns, solidly aromachemical if am not much mistaken, are proper, classical accords. What makes them odd and exotic at this point is that they do not go for powerful materials and instead set a muted but distinctive scene. Barre perfumes, if I may switch metaphors, have the feel of an understated actor whose looks only gradually reveal themselves as part of their mutable character, someone like William Powell or Ralph Fiennes. They are so unfashionable as to be practically avant-garde.
For paid subscribers: reviews of Cult, Dolly, Volta, Witch and Outlaw.
Samples from Bloom Perfumery
