After Every Ounce of Joy (Leaves My Body)

UPDATE: I bought a full bottle for my birthday. I own Resonance and Beast Mode. And AEOOJ definitely shares similarities to the two previous ones, especially Resonance. What I get in this is the woodiness, the cedar touch. I may be completely delusional, but I smell that wood shaving, but not quite as strong as Resonance. There are other notes in here, which are supposed to resemble gasoline or rubber or something industrial. If someone hadn't already suggested those associations, I would not detect them. The three bottles I now own are analogous to whisky in color. Resonance is the darkest, as if it were aged 18 years. Then comes AEOOJ, a 12-year-old whisky. Beast Mode is the lightest, closer to yellow than amber, maybe a young whisky, 10-years-old. Of course I love all three of these. If I had to say my absolute favorite it would be Beast Mode because I appreciate the yuzu. OLD REVIEW: I'm bought two bottles of Chris Rusak's perfumes, R320 and Beast Mode, and there is nothing out there that I 'm aware of that compares to Mr. Rusak's genius. The same is true of Leaves My Body. It was partly cloudy, kind of cool, a gray day, and I was looking for a scent to wear by opening up my cabinet and this is what I chose over 20 others. LMB strikes me as: wet leaves, dry whisky, rubber, metal, wood shavings, and sawed lumber. But what's wondrous about this is its mystery. You never are quite sure of what notes are present, but this allows the perfume to take control of you and put you in its hands; to soothe, comfort, relax, and promote intuition, music, imagination and reverie. Chris has been open about his struggles in life, and there is a therapeutic element to his creations, but without being too psychoanalytical, I want to say these scents, and LMB are of the highest artistry and worth every penny.

This won a Fragrantica award in 2020, and it certainly deserved it. I've never really smelled anything quite like this. @Caldrumr described it as "a mechanic working on a car in the forest on a foggy day," and that is actually pretty accurate. But it's a big 1950s car with those vinyl seats. And it's definitely a pine forest. Chris Rusak uses pine resins a lot in his creations and in this one there is a really intense and almost mentholated pine core, that is there from the start but gradually emerges more strongly from beneath a complex layer of motor oil and vinyl, notes which should be harsh and synthetic but are somehow soft and almost natural, probably because of the amber they are combined with. As the scent develops further, it gets more woody, with a hint of vetiver and dirt, but still retains some of the scent of the auto repair shop. This scent hits the memory centres of the brain hard, but it's like a memory you don't have, like you're a replicant from Blade Runner and this memory has been implanted in you and you can't fix it to a real time and place but, nevertheless, there it is every time you catch a whiff of the fragrance from your wrist or beard, tugging at your imaginary past. This is a masterpiece.

A structure of pine resin drives (for me) a psychedelic celebration of manual labor -- the bone dry florality of gasoline, the penetrating earthiness in your clothes after a day of working around heavy machinery. EDIT: A few months later, this has become my favorite fragrance to wear. Nothing about it is ever cloying or overwhelming, it hardly reads as a "perfume" to me. Which isn't to say it doesn't smell "good" - it does smell good, in a way that's an actual personal comfort. It's a very real smell, the smell of a particular kind of day. There's something new every single time I wear it, some new memory (usually but not always a good one), some unexamined overtone. I think Rusak approaches his work from a place of conceptual coherence, and that's the thing I value most in the work of any artisan. I just bought the follow-up, "LMB." There's no entry for it yet, so I'll just say it here: it's definitely a successor, but there's something new and redemptive in it, it's a garden in early April, little green shoots growing out of the rich woody humus of AEOOJ. There's an old song that goes: "You Must Believe in Spring."

This is well and truly my holy grail of fragrance. Now that it's gone forever, I regret not buying 5 bottles. It is absolutely brilliant. If anyone has a bottle of this they'd like to part with, please message me. I will gladly purchase it. I was looking for something that combined a sort of industrial feel with a masculine comforting sexy vibe. Settled on this and blind bought it. It was the perfect thing. At first this smells like a permanent marker. That soon dissipates a bit and gives way to a truly ingenious combination of woodsy vetiver, pine, and patchouli with the industrial feeling of rubber and gasoline. It's giving daddy, and he works in a machine shop. But it also has some kind of musty wood, old books, library thing happening, which could be unpleasant but it's perfect here. This is extremely sexy without relying on any of the usual "sexy" formulas. Truly unique, I've never smelled anything else similar. I wore it recently to see a certain boy toy and he commented the next day that his pillows smelled so good. So you know it's doing the trick.

Being discontinued, so move quick if you're going to. But not too quick, because I need some time to decide if I want a full bottle. It is a masterpiece. Completely distinct, subtle, immediately familiar and also unrecognizable. If I'm being honest I don't get any of the notes listed other than amber and musk, I get oakmoss, mold, willow, an old book in a musty attic with the windows open for the first time in years and a light breeze blowing through carrying pollen from the trees in the bayou. It doesn't smell like death. It does smell like decay. But late in the process, the spring after death, as nature takes over. I'm almost certain it shares an ingredient with imaginary authors slow explosions, but I couldn't tell you which one.

There’s little I can add to describe AEOOJ (LMB) that isn’t covered by other reviewers already. I’m just popping in to say that I purchased the discovery set and am absolutely in love with this (and Leaves My Body). Lovers of the peculiar and weird should check this out. Notes such as gasoline, diesel, motor oil, vinyl, rubber, tar, dirt, and leather are my favorites and this just ticks so many boxes for me. It’s such an enjoyable olfactory experience and I find it very wearable as a personal fragrance. I’m itching to buy a full bottle and don’t see myself resisting for very long.

Chris Rusak is one of my favorite perfumers, he has released another outstanding fragrance. I get a lot of pine, salt and gasoline but not in a nasty way this is camping on the beach in the Carolinas as a teenager when I smell it, a place away from life and all it's traumas.

Unbelievably good. Incredibly complex, layered, shifting, and evocative. Every time I smell it I smell something different - vetiver, pine trees, rust, gasoline, black latex. Somehow, extremely wearable. I'd argue that this is a unisex scent.

Chris Rusak is also one of my favorite perfumers. His ability to take something that feels so natural and bend it in such creative ways always captures me. This fragrance is definitely no different. Definitely a meditative experience.

Sweet, leathery, sexy. I wear this fragrance on days where the world looks bleak and dreary. It brings sense of nostalgia that I can't reach yet somehow it's comforting. There is nothing quite like this out there.

I could cry i love this so much it really smells like longing for an avoidant man pls lmk if selling

If selling this please message me

This reminds me a lot of Rook Perfume's Undergrowth. It has that same heavy, machine oil-like base. Undergrowth contrasts the darkness with bright green minty notes but AEOOJ has no such juxtaposition. Maybe for the first minute or so before the veil drops, and then occasionally. It makes me think of Los Angeles in the 70's - a sunny paradise obscured by smog. I am not saying it is unpleasant, just that some contrast would make it more interesting. It's still quite wearable but it's definitely for personal contemplation. The patchouli becomes recognizable well into the drydown and you can occasionally catch a whiff of that slightly sweet, chocolatey note. It's funny that a record was chosen to illustrate the "vinyl" note. I've been collecting records for over twenty years and they don't smell like anything.

This is a beautiful scent, memory provoking and changing rapidly on the skin from note to note- however, I do not find this as divisive or as shocking as some of the reviews seem to state. This is a strong, whisky shot drinking masculine energy (energy, not necessarily gender) with the earth and pine making them selves known after a while. It’s a nice scent, I wouldn’t buy a FB but I’ll keep the sample.

This is a pan adventure in memory for me. It reminds me of being a kid in a musty canvas tent with my Dad. The ability to evoke that semi forgotten but deep seated memory is worth the price of admission for me, but it’s not a perfume scent. It’s inexplicable as a scent. Along with Rusak’s other scents in the sampler kit I received, these are well composed olfactory meditations and I find myself returning to smell them again and again. I don’t see myself getting a full bottle of this but who knows how much I’ll miss this when it’s gone.

A woody vetiver, which unfortunately, is not at all anything I like. This might work for you, but there are a select few scents showcasing vetiver that ever speak to me. Nice enough, but not for me...

Once only abbreviated, now revealed to mean “after every ounce of joy leaves my body,” this a mythical scent that halfway lives up to its name. I am interested in how some people seem to ‘get’ this perfume, whereas others are left confused as to how it became his most popular and notorious offering. Boasting such appealing fantasy accords as “ melting vinyl / burning plexiglass” and “acetone, gasoline, and petroliferous byproducts,” I very much appreciate the ways in which Rusak not just claims these notes, but backs up in some cases how he actually constructs them. There is a very personal story about depressive lows and trauma built into this perfume, but he also insists it should stand and be experienced on its own. I personally find the scent interesting enough to do so, thus I will refrain from connecting these smells to his own perilous experiences. To me, this is at heart a very rustic take on a vetiver-patchouli perfume. I understand Rusak’s connection to the substances of earth, without exactly getting at something outdoorsy and pastoral. Wear this perfume like rubbing up on your uncle's friend at your small town gas station. He's lonely, he collects vinyl, he bought some cheap earthy vetiver cologne to reel in the chicks, and what do you know, the chicks aren’t reeling. He’s desperate, sweaty, his hand is dangerously close to your waist - click! - your car is full.

I don’t want to get into the actual notes or the perfumer’s inspiration for After Every Ounce of Joy (Leaves My Body); he mentions on the site that he hides the notes in a separate link so as not to overly influence the collectors and enthusiasts who are smelling it. Out of respect for those sentiments, I will keep mum on those points and just share my experience with it ...which has become one of profound obsession. Initially what I smell is an overwhelmingly acrid note, like burning rubber, but more tarry than smoky, or maybe new vinyl siding. It’s leathery and vaguely animalic and it also somehow reminds me of cold, dry air. After about 15-20 minutes, a warm, sweet skin musk emerges and it’s at this moment that I cannot stop huffing my wrist because it’s so elusive and secretive. And underneath that, there’s something even more magical, a powdery, balsamic floral-herb that I can’t put a name to, and it seems like something you might only encounter in a dream. It’s so far removed from that initial whiff of melting plastic but at the same time this whole delicious skin scent is still enrobed in a transparent PVC shower curtain, which sounds a little morbid in a Laura Palmer way, but you can’t pretend it’s not there. But like I said, I am obsessed. And Chris Rusak is a genius.

When I spray AEOOJ, there is a very specific memory that comes to mind: hiking on an overcast day along beachside hills near Bodega Bay, a bit north of San Francisco. In the beginning there is a slightly sweet diesel note that fades out quickly. Then it opens into a textured cedar woodiness as well as soil, a mineral marine quality, and some light saltiness. I'm not sure if the pinyon tincture is the source of the woodiness that I smell, but if so it's very prominent. It's slightly reminiscent of the cedar from Io, both have that rough-hewn ruggedness to them. It has a cool and damp watery feel to it that I really associate it with a cloudy and gray beach day. It's not a heavy scent, but it does have a certain gravity to it. It's hard to reconcile what I smell in AEOOJ with the description of it's conception and development, and frankly, I'd rather not associate it with trauma or a depressive episode. As per the scent itself, I really enjoy AEOOJ in it's moody marine woodiness and am happy to have a bottle. One of my treasures.

Looking to buy a decant of this, message me if you’re looking to sell! An intriguing perfume. If you’ve ever heard someone say they love the smell of dry erase markers or gasoline and you just couldn’t understand why, this is the scent that’ll make you go “Oooh I get it”. Chris Rusak seems to have taken those weird guilty pleasure scents and made them into something that’s easy for anyone to love.