Many years ago, I went into an Aesop store to marvel at a hand lotion causing a stir. At the time, I had started wearing perfumes, but I was not curious nor passionate about them, and rarely went out of my way to try them (unless Vogue had told me to). But while in Aesop, I decided to try out one of their fragrances - they had two to their name at the time. I don’t know whether I spritzed into the air, onto paper, or straight upon my skin, but I do remember that I was hit with a really spicy, woody scent, like I had rubbed straight up against some incense. It was Marrakech, and it really wasn’t for me. Since then, I have used Aesop’s products here and there, but I have never ventured back into their world of fragrance. This is not for fear of what I would find there, I just haven’t had chance to experience them - until now.
Last week, I was welcomed into Aesop’s Marylebone store, a gorgeous, airy open space on a corner of the high street, where ceiling-to-floor windows wrap around half of the store, flooding the space with natural light whatever the weather outside. Huge oak cabinets stand tall against cream walls, displaying bottle after bottle of products, each perfectly positioned to face forward, label after label lined up. But it doesn’t feel clinical at all, even with steel basins and taps sitting amongst the displays. Instead, it is natural and calming, designed to reflect the brand as well as the particular location, so anybody who knows Marylebone will know how much it ‘fits in’.
My fragrance experience was hosted by Lucien, who guided me over to a bench in front of a free-standing wardrobe: the home of Aesop’s scents. I felt a bit like Lucy discovering Narnia when he opened the doors. I was asked what kind of fragrances I am into, to which I replied ‘it depends on the day, it depends on my mood, and it depends on how I want to feel whilst wearing it’ - not very specific, I know, however, I then took out a list I had prepared earlier, noting those I most wanted to try, four of which were going to be Lucien’s recommendations also. I ended up trying about 8 different fragrances, all on paper and three on my skin. When it comes to Aesop, skin-testing is essential, as they are all very natural, with some heady notes and intriguing combinations that will develop in completely different ways on each individual. As you will see, some of those I liked on paper were not half as good on my wrist, but the same one smelled incredible on the PR I was with. Lucien told me about the story behind each scent as we worked through them, but the most important one is the story it creates for you, and these are my experiences:
Tacit, £115 for 50ml
Tacit was the first I tried on paper, and I was instantly grateful to be giving Aesop another go. It is inspired by the Mediterranean coast, encompassing the culture, topography and vegetation, as well as the sunshine and the ocean. On my skin, it opens green and bright and herby, with yuzu bringing a tangy citrus hit. Clove sits at the top alongside basil grand vert and the yuzu, and the note stays with me throughout the dry-down. It quickly develops into something more herbaceous and warm, brought by rosemary and fennel, vetiver and cedarwood. The woody elements are really strong in scent, but soft in nature, as vetiver and green notes carry through. Amber, one of the base notes, gives this the golden touch, akin to sunshine beating down on the terrain around you. After an hour on my wrist, the herbs and woods have settled together, and it is clove that holds firm. But I notice a touch of mint, which is a really uplifting and keeps the scent feeling alive. The longevity of Tacit on me was incredible, and I ended up welcoming this to my collection this week. It is good for any gender.
Gloam, £145 for 50ml
Gloam was a favourite of mine on paper. I picked up sun-drenched white flowers - iris and jasmine - straight away, which were joined by a sweet orange from blossoming orange flower and fresh neroli. There was a little bite, coming from the pink pepper, but a really warm and enveloping spice from cardamom and woody patchouli follows through. As it settles, mimosa begins to sing and saffron makes itself known, but it dries down to a softer scent of light woods and a whisper of orange. I chose to test this one on my skin, and, to my utter dismay, it didn’t quite work for me, but it is one I would reach for when recommending to anybody else.
Hwyl, £115 for 50ml
Smoky notes accentuate on my skin and hold very well, so I chose this as my other skin test to see how it developed. It was strong and steady, beginning quite green but quickly developing into a darker, smokier, spicier scent. It felt (as intended, I found out) like you were walking through a dense, evergreen forest, where hours before people had been burning logs and incense, which had been left to die, drying out to embers. I noted pine, and was told this was coming from elemi, used as a top note, which brings a fresh but spicy green note when used in fragrances. At the heart is cypress - again a fresh, slightly peppery and pine-like note - paired with a touch of geranium. The base notes include frankincense (earthy and warm), vetiver (dry, earthy and woody) and cedar (woody but slightly more resinous), but the smokiness took charge and held firm on my skin. I liked it, but it left me wanting something a little more rounded.
Rōzu, £145 for 50ml
I wasn’t going to try Rōzu because I already knew I would like it, but I couldn’t stop myself asking for ‘just a little spritz on paper’ to try before I left the store, and I am so pleased I did. It is a pink rose, growing in the centre of a dark forest. You lean down to smell it, and experience every inch of it: you smell the delicate petals, you smell the stem, you smell the buds yet to blossom, you smell the thorns, you smell the soil it grows from, all nursed by the scent of the surrounding woods. There are a range of notes involved, including pink pepper (a glorious partner for rose), bergamot and a beautiful touch of sparkling shiso which I loved. Guaiacwood and sandalwood give a little depth, and musk, vetiver and patchouli give a soft, powdery base. This scent is a lesson in the art of balance, and it’s a very good way to learn it.
Ouranon, £145 for 50ml
Blew me away! Ouranon is inspired by lavendar in its truest form, not the dried or musty or ‘sleep inducing’ floral that we are so used to. The only way to describe this is to imagine eating a liquorice sweet wrapped in sticky maple sryup with lavender dusted sporadically in the layers. At the top is lavender flower, petitgrain and elemi (the spicy-green from before), followed by hay, chamomile and frankincense at the centre, resting on a base of myrrh, tonka and patchouli. The balance between such contrasting notes is wonderful: it is rich and rounded, the light wood from the hay lightened even further from the delicate florals, but darkened with spices and warmth. It is medicinal but sweet, earthy and sophisticated. I loved my experience with this one, but think it would be more of a room scent rather than a skin scent for me.
Erémia, £145 for 50ml
Apparently, this is the favourite for women, but it would be ideal for gents in the Spring/Summer. It tells the story of an urban area that has been left to nature, where tarmac roads and concrete buildings have been covered in rich, wet vegetation, and the fragrance really does capture this. It opens with yuzu, bergamot and grapefruit, but they quicky dissipate into a combination of waxy florals (galbanum and iris), guaiacwood and earthier patchouli. A greener element is brought by green tea and mimosa, resulting in a soft and lighter scent than the others. This performs more like an EDT than an EDP, which is possibly one of the reasons why it sells best.
Karst, £145 for 50ml
Another lighter scent in terms of notes and performance, and what I would consider a safer scent if buying as a gift, particularly for men. Again inspired by the coast, but this time, more akin to the English waterside, where forceful waves crash against the cliffs. It’s got bergamot, rosemary, sage and cumin, which bring a peppery, herbaceous characteristic, combined with a base of vetiver, sandalwood and cedar. It makes you feel like you’re walking along the coastline, below is a beach of thick wet sand, where reeds grow here and there, and blackened wood from shipwrecks and cargo boxes are washed on the shore. The wind whips around you, carrying salt and spray through the air. Refreshing and stormy, but isn’t a statement, and may not last as long as you wish.
So there is my Aesop’s fable. Are you inspired to try them?