A selection of sensory vignettes.
Toronto-based perfumer Courtney Rafuse birthed Universal Flowering in 2016 and has since gained a cult following of niche perfume fanatics. Her ability to tell stories—incorporating luscious doses of synesthesia—through olfactory means alone is unmatched. If one were tasked with writing a novel about each of her perfumes, the result would be thick books bearing fruitful tales of romance, death, and the human condition. Even the label and bottle design are worth the price just to have them sitting on your vanity (only in theory—doing this would be criminal).
Matt Morris, an adjunct professor at the Art Institute of Chicago, praises Heliotrope Milkbath in his masterfully crafted Fragrantica review, stating he makes a “passing association with overly frilly dolls decorated with lace and ribbons that are designed to wet themselves in the most politely abject way possible.” This concoction boasts a saccharine, innocent dose of candied apricot and powdery heliotrope, followed by a toe-curling, musky civet accord. This fragrance would not work with any other floral blend. Heliotrope is the lewd maestro, guiding the other notes through a thoughtfully choreographed ballet, finally collapsing into a sweaty, almond-milk-latte-fueled orgy.
This limited release is the perfect vice for your oral fixation. Venus in Tuberose highlights the mouth with palatable notes of raspberry gelato, lime pulp, and cream soda. It’s rushing to get to the bottom of your vodka soda so you can go home and fuck your boyfriend, mashing up the lime with your straw and promptly slurping up the remaining citrus pulp and alcohol. You’re at the carnival with your lover, your raspberry popsicle dripping down your hands. There is no sink to wash the sticky streaks of Red 40 off, so he insists you wipe them on his jeans. Tuberose—a symbol of deadly love to the Victorians—stalks the other elements down your esophagus like poison. You are Romeo and Juliet tumbling through fresh grass, except it’s at Coachella and you’re greening out.
Rhapsody in Mauve
This smells like being drunk. Rhapsody in Mauve is a very boudoir fragrance that possesses delicious hints of aged lipstick, mother’s old Clinique powder puff, and papier-mâché. The rose jam in this perfume is comparable to Lush’s Rose Jam—if it were given late-diagnosed manic depression and a burlesque bob cut. It evokes an early Disney–like fantasy—utensils coming to life and beginning to waltz. Cinderella’s ugly stepsister, Anastasia, would certainly choose this fragrance to go with her gaudy mauve dress before doing poppers at the ball.
Upon opening this bottle, a wispy, arachnidian fog lurks out and envelops you. It calls you to church—ugh, it’s snowing. Grasping the icy metal handrails on the way up the stairs, make sure to dig into the chipping lead paint until a shard slips under your fingernail, drawing blood to remind you that you’re real. The sandalwood, hay, and incense married together in this perfume create a black-licorice accord that begs to be unisex, though some would argue it is completely unwearable. Gossamer Spirit conjures a delightfully effervescent quality, like instead of burning incense, you blow it through a bubble wand. Ethel Cain’s unreleased Chapel Hill ricochets off the old pews. Of course the priest has SoundCloud—how else would he befriend young people?
Saffron Flour offers gourmand qualities for those who hate gourmand fragrances. This could be an $18 cocktail at a place called, like, Quincy’s Happy Trail. Dainty rose water, lactonic horchata, and saffron are dominant, and then a medicinal ambrette follows. She is expensive—graduated from Bath & Body Works Sugar Cookie years ago. It’s a batch of cookies made by a Latina grandmother who definitely adds too much butter to the recipe. Your cheeky newborn baby spits up milky rice pudding and saliva on you, but it low-key smells good, so you let it sit a while. All in all, Saffron Flour is a unique fragrance that’s definitely worth sampling if you get the chance.