Ensang Noir

I've begun to grow addled from fragrance content, of which so much is a torrent of reductive and vapid twaddle. There are lists upon lists, full of graphics gilded like lilies, suggestions for what seems to be cosplay accompaniments and pairings for new eras of all sorts. It is not so much the fashioning of fragrance as cultural objects as it is a tinderbox for the hedonic treadmill of consumerism. To speak thoughtfully about scent comes at a premium in the attention economy. I shared a Youtube video on what I regarded as ten gothic scents about three years ago, and while I certainly was no pioneer at exploring the concept at the time, there has since been a wellspring of interest in what are perceived as darker, even somewhat more elegiac and macabre scents. Yet the selections chosen often seem a bit too safe and precious for me to regard them as gothic—again, they seem like cosplay accompaniments for those unwilling to commit to an aesthetic. Ensang Noir dares one to commit, while it diffuses a bloody, port wine and burgundy rose and its dark, cabalistic incense. It is a rapier that pierces right into all that is niminy-piminy and dress-up pretend—wet and penetrating, performing a winter ritual among bare poplars lit by a magenta sunset. The narrative engine here is tension and release: acidity and sweetness, poison and remedy, despair and relief. The use of cucumber aldehyde in the opening is a brilliant move on the part of Duchaufour, as it imparts this arresting effect of a cool snap to the already chilling and sharp aliphatic aldehydes. There is a heart of thick, pensive wine-rose with a side shot of Crème de cassis. It is underlined with an unsettling smolder of incense smoke and sweet, tarry resins. This is gothic. This is also pretty damn poetic. It's also commanding, and likely to frighten some. That's why I am not so sure it will make an appearance on a "if you want to smell like Wednesday Addams, wear this" list. I think it's absolutely breathtaking.

This is one of my favorite frags I've tried. It's got a clean, Crystalline, metallic like opening but it quickly settles and becomes a beautiful and jammy rose with some nice incense and smoky under notes. I love that this Rose doesn't smell too...floral? I guess? Like it doesn't evoke grandmas house. My wife said it smelled kind of like wilting roses in a gothic cathedral. Decent scent bubble and longevity. I'm trying a few others but if they don't beat this I would totally get a bottle. My only unrealistic wish is that it was slightly more masculine. But it's definitely unisex. Easy to pull off still if you are a pretty boy or going for Vampire.

Feels like being a kid again, running into a bush of my old neighbours’ prized roses, the kind nobody dared to touch, and getting tiny bloody cuts all over my body that I don’t feel right away because of the adrenaline rush. The cuts only give themselves away by the smell of iron cutting through the air of a breezy summer night. Almost drinkable, as the scent of warm roses makes me want to suck the juice out of my cuts. This one gets my heart pumping. It makes me feel alive. I had it on yesterday and couldn’t take my nose off it like a fiend. It almost felt like I shouldn’t have it. One of my all-time favourites. 10/10

This fragrance is how I imagine the burgundy colour would smell like. I am going to say that it's gorgeous. Someone here said that this would be Wednesday's perfume. I must disagree - it would be Morticia Addams' scent. It is far too deep, feminine and mature for a young girl. I do not see it as gothic, but it's a rather dark, feminine scent. Don't expect blood and metal - none of that is there. Deep rose, mature like wine, supported by patchouli and incense. This is mostly all you're gonna get. I think it's a stunning evening scent, and I normally don't even like rose.

This is a work in which olfactory art evokes visual art. While trying this perfume, various images came to mind: a signing of one's soul to the devil in order to receive one's wish, Robert Mapplethorpe's photograph of roses in the smoke, Joel Peter Witkin's photography, Aubrey Bearsley's illustrations for Salome... I've smelled many perfumes in my life, but I don't think I've experienced many works with such depth. Beauty in the pitch black. In the end, you'll feel like you're being taken somewhere by sweet whispers.