État Libre d'Orange - Secretions Magnifiques

État Libre d'OrangeSecretions Magnifiques

80,00 €
1.600,00 € per 1 l

including 19% VAT., no shipping costs

Please select the option you wish. Note: Samples are decanted by us and contain 3 ml of the product.


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État Libre d'Orange - Secretions Magnifiques

Ahhh, the infamous Secretions Magnifiques! Awarded 5 stars by revered critic Luca Turin in the Guide for, we assume, sheer chutzpah, this is a scent that sets out to capture all the salty, metallic, and milky notes involved in human secretions such as blood, sweat, semen, and saliva. Perfumer Antoine Lie says that the azurone in Secretions Magnifiques "smells a bit like saliva when you lick and then smell your skin."

It's about as lovely as it sounds. Seriously, though, this is an experimental perfume that will test your boundaries and expand your olfactory repertoire. One might say that it's an education for the nose. Some find it unbearably animalic, whereas some find it comforting and sensual. Here is the stirring description of the scent by its creators: "Masculine tenseness frees a rush of adrenalin in a cascade of high-pitched aldehydic notes. The sensation of freshness is gripping. Then the fragrance reveals a metallic side, precise and as sharp as unappeased desire. We are on a razor-edge... skin and sweat mingle, and tastes of musk and sandalwood. The slightly salty marine effect stirs, arouses, and sets your mouth watering. Tongues and sexes find one another, pleasure explodes and all goes wild. Confusion reigns supreme. A subversive, disturbing perfume. It's love or hate at first sight."

Notes: iodized accord (fucus, azurone), adrenalin accord, blood accord, milk accord, orris, coconut, sandalwood, opoponax

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Rowan M. (10.11.2021)

Chemical, cloying, clinical. Noxiously floral.

At times a pungent floral; at others, acidic and toxic, like something out of a little glass bottle with a skull on the label.

The first time I spritzed it, I got copper pennies and something warm and very carnal; a revolving door of bodily fluids, some more pleasant than others. I have yet to smell those notes again in my time sampling it. It wears very much on skin as it does sprayed on paper — chemical and cloying, very particular and like nothing Ive ever smelled before. I wish I could say it was delightful in its individuality, but the reality is far more cynical; even a stray whiff of this odd, sour-milk-and-bleach scent is enough to make me grimace in spite of myself.

After a few hours of wearing it on my ankle — my wrists had already been devoted to another, more palatable fragrance — the sickly scent faded and gave way to something that was musky, carnal, and wholly masculine. A lumberjack in moth-eaten plaid, dripping in sweat after a days work; the faint hint of the soap he used that morning, likely labelled something manly and outdoorsy like cedarwood or great eagle. A hint of pomade — American Crew, perhaps, with its spicy, almost resin-like odour. This was an intoxicating scent, and one I could have wrapped myself up in quite happily, like a blanket. Who would have thought such a musky, salt-of-the-earth sort of scent could be hidden beneath those sour, acrid notes?

If you can wait long enough for this outdoorsy lumberjack to come to the fore, maybe youll love Secretions; if, however, you are anything like me, the clinical smell — sanitised and yet decidedly unclean, like a hospital ward scrubbed from top to bottom with something potent enough to turn your stomach, yet not enough to hide the sickly stench of disease — will prove too much for you to bear.

Even the sour Do Not Drink; POISON scent might be tolerable, if it werent coupled with a nauseating, noxious note I can only refer to rather jadedly as perfume. Surely you know the one — the nondescript perfume so often used in body spray and cheap grooming sets, which presumes to call itself floral, yet resembles no flower Ive ever encountered.

On my second day with Secretions, I decided to give it another try, this time on the wrist — a fair trial to give it my full attention. Even now, as it slowly fades to that elusive eau-de-lumberjack, the overbearing floral notes are so heady and sickening that I fear Ive already planted the seeds of a migraine attack.

When I say I wanted to like this, I mean it with all honesty. The reviews lauding it as so carnal it was obscene filled me with utmost curiosity, such that I rushed to order a sample to see for myself. I expected to be revolted in the most puritanical of ways, repulsed and filled with shame, yet there is nothing about Secretions that hints at what goes on behind closed doors – unless, perhaps, you refer to the closed doors of a morgue. In this fragrance youll find something sickly, clinical, and ultimately nauseating.

If I could bottle up the sweaty lumberjack who made a surprise appearance after some hours, Id gladly spend a pretty penny to smell like him. Sadly, I dont think hes worth the inevitable migraine.