A peculiarity of niche lines, which I believe no one could have predicted from first principles, is that they cater to people who want to know something about perfumery raw materials and therefore expect fragrances to name them. This prevalence of words over smell has led to a relentless monotony, hundreds of ouds, vetivers, incenses and patchoulis, and overall the narrowest fragrance diversity in perfume history.
Perfumers must be slowly going insane having to do yet another one, and like schoolchildren told to sit still, they wiggle their toes. This wiggling sometimes gives fragrances that decidedly do not smell like the thing they’re named after. (Le Labo were the first to do this, brazenly.) Sometimes it incites perfumers to distinguish their compulsory figure from others by making it better and more interesting, while no doubt still adhering to an unreasonably low formula cost.
These Montblanc fragrances are a case in point. Clearly, more work than was sensible went into them, in the hope of putting some space between them and near-identical offerings from other firms. The whole thing, with plain large bottles, contrived names, and high prices, feels like the end of an era.
I am beginning to suspect that niche lines from major brands will fall prey to the iron law of barbecues, which stipulates that the coals will be finally at the perfect temperature only after everyone’s had a bellyful of burgers. Like barbecue coals, the last gasp of tedious niche will likely be its finest hour, and I’m sure we will eventually be sorry to see it go.
For paid subscribers, reviews of Black Meisterstück, Extreme Leather, Patchouli Ink, Star Oud and Vetiver Glacier.
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