Violette Hay

I encountered Violette Hay on a failed mission to acquire a bottle of Maison Violet’s Un Air d’Apogée from my local niche perfume shop. Sold out, unlikely to be restocked before the holidays. Well, what’s the point of that for dry, rustly, Indian summer fragrance like UAA? Luckily, the shopkeeper directed me toward the Marissa Zappas table, a new brand for the store. I hadn’t put together that Marissa Zappas was THAT collaboration-prone perfumer who had lingered so tantalizingly on the periphery of my perfume consciousness thanks to the iconic Nose Candy podcast, but I knew that Violette Hay was something worth my attention at first sniff. As the hay cart on the bottle indicates, this is indeed a harvest fantasy, more humidly fecund than UAA but certainly checking the same boxes. Violet is not a favorite note of mine, often sharp or cloying, reminiscent of grandmothers and not in a cool way. But the violet accord here is wonderful, soft, crepuscular. It is misleading in some ways for me to mention it first—it is neither the first note to emerge, nor the real star of the show. But the treatment of violet hooked me intellectually. Known to be a tricky accord to master, it’s wonderful showmanship to make one this lovely and then make it part of an ensemble. Another intellectual hook- many other reviewers are remarking on how feminine this perfume is. In fact, it is very close to being a traditional masculine fougère. Switch lavender for violet and you’re there. The pairing of the very masculine coumarin hay and the very feminine violet is a study in androgyny that could be convincing on someone of any gender. Violette Hay opens with carrot seed and coriander, aromatic and slightly funky in a way that many seeds can be (I am reminded of sweaty cumin, celery seed, and fenugreek, although none of these are present). There is a sense of the field and of the barnyard, and you realize hay has been a part of that impression all along. I will admit that this hay, to my mind, has been soaked in urine, but what could be more wholesome or natural? Violet and apricot join the scene. The soft violet wedded to dusty coriander and the just-present apricot note (think vintage, I wonder if it is one of the so-called fruity aldehydes at play) give the impression of glaucous globularity. More Dutch still life grape than apricot in overall effect, the scene here feels more an allegory of autumn than summer, when the early apricot (its name derives from the same root as “precocious”) is at its peak. But I betray myself — hay too is a summer crop. Nonetheless, Violette Hay seems best to fall. Perhaps it is the haze of the vernal time-traveler violet that tears us out of a realistic sensory world and casts a purple elegiac light over the composition that brings to mind shortening days. Violette Hay does not project intensely, but that feels right both because it is a study in subtle shades and because of its inheritance of restrained masculinity of the fougère genre. Overall, an extremely interesting, provocatively androgynous twist on both the fougère and the contemporary “agrestic” genre.

when the earth finally burns up like a matchstick, i want to be lying in a pile of violette hay. i don't care if the ground turns magma red beneath my toes, or if my fingers turn grey when i touch them to my lips, covered in ash. beyond the fear of the moment is always an unassailable belief in beauty, and violette hay is as beautiful as a cream white dove. yet my superstitious nose picks up mostly on the perfume's blackened, twilight notes — the leather and the smoke. violette hay makes me feel these melancholy things, like i'm surrounded by wet suede, sifting through a charred flower field. where i am, every violet's heart is made of bone. mice nibble on tender apricot blossoms and saffron, mixing their soft grease with the plants' sticky honey. it's dirty, and i am unreal. we are vampires. we are animals bleeding on the inside. our warmth, which also comes from within, stops us from losing it entirely. even still, i think i'm close to giving in to the flames on the floor. then i notice a puddle of wild violets up ahead. if i squint just right, it's as gold as heaven.

This is the first time I've put on a perfume and immediately thought "This is it. This smells how I feel most of the time." It's almost alarming because I've been searching for a decade for this without really knowing what to look for. I can definitely understand why some people might complain about how light and self-contained it is. Sometimes being inoffensive is offensive. The first time I tried it was a few hours before bedtime. So light and watery (smells like dew throughout on me) that I thought the story would not play out, but all the notes gradually unfolded. The violet and apricot are reassuring together. In the morning my wrists still smelled faintly of dewy hay with a bit of suede. A skin scent for sure. Gentle and quiet. I think certain personalities are going to gravitate toward this and others will be bored or even irritated that they got a sample. As fun as Marissa's scents are, I definitely wouldn't blind buy any of them. This isn't something I'd wear at work or for a night out. It's just for ME. It's what I'll wear during days at home.

From the bottle, this opens with a beautiful photorealistic suede note and a clean hay, reminiscent of a consignment store leather jacket. Leathers and leather-adjacent tend to pull very pickle-y on my nose, but this is the first one where it just doesn't. Wonderfully done. It moves smoothly into a sweet, fresh, almost baby-powdery tone. I'd compare it to Glossier You after a few hours of wear or the faint sillage of Mugler's Alien, but almost fluffier and whiter. There's an afterthought of spice, but a fresh, aromatic one, likely from the coriander. I found this perfume warms up on the skin, with the powdery notes almost giving way to a sweet, nutty scent, like a rice milk or a mild marzipan. Gorgeous perfume with a stunning bottle. Simple enough to wear during the day, but classy with juuuuust enough of an edge to wear out at night. My girlfriend sprayed it on herself before she left for work, and hours later, I'm still smelling it as I sit in the bedroom.

This is a mystical and entrancing scent. It’s light but there’s a beautiful glow to it more than a brightness. The carrot seed and coriander stood out to me on first spritz then sauntered in the violet note. It really caught me off guard because it wasn’t truly floral it was a sort of spice and earthiness to it which I attribute to the carrot and coriander, then the dry down and middle notes played a more sensual role, I get more of that apricot and saffron which really made it earthy and juicy. Then the grounding with suede and musk. It’s a bewitching experience. I couldn’t stop smelling it, I would consider this full bottle worthy. I’m eager to smell petrichor as I hear violette and petrichor are almost like sister scents and I love to pair.