I.
Shall we get right to it? (untitled),
the first fragrance from Maison Martin Margiela,
was composed by the gifted Daniela Andrier, a watercolorist of a perfumer and
the author of Prada’s madly successful Infusions series, and it proceeds
something like this: a splash of fresh wet green to start; soft, cuddly resins
wrapping a statuesque bigarade; a polite suggestion of jasmine and
warm cedar; pretty-but-anemic musk and a drop of sweat. It generates more than
decent sillage, but after the opening blast of galbanum fades (it doesn’t take
long), all I smell from a distance is pillow-soft amber and bitter orange. If I
really hound my wrist I get the faintly animalic musky base and traces of
incense.
These are lovely notes, every one,
and elegantly interwoven, yet I’m left wishing for twice the effect packed in
half the volume, and more importantly, something to skew it a degree or two
off-trend. (untitled) is a very nice fragrance, but in the way that a Margiela
t-shirt is just a ‘very nice’ t-shirt.
Luckily for the Diesel Group (Maison
Martin Margiela’s new corporate parent), very nice is plenty good enough for a
lot of people – especially, I would wager, the kind of people who prize
expensive simplicity and prefer to smell ‘like nothing.’ I can’t help wondering,
though, what might have been if the same devil-may-care daringness had been applied
to this project as has been devoted to the house’s most thought-provoking
designs. What if the bracing, bitter green notes were prolonged, kept aloft by brighter, headier incense instead of
giving way to the woody-floral heart? Or what if the
musks were even dirtier, saltier, suggestive of a wet animal coat made
strangely desirable (think of the wet fur facet of L’Artisan’s Méchant Loup)?
I’m not suggesting either of these
ideas would be better than what ended up in the bottle. The trouble with
(untitled) is that I can’t seem to find its identity. It somehow feels overdone
and incomplete at the same time. And while I know it’s splitting hairs to say
so, even the way it was introduced lacked the intelligence and
straightforwardness on which la Maison stakes its reputation.
Last week’s event at the New York
Margiela store, for example, featured no experiential process by which to try
the scent, unless you want to count the precious scented cloth buttons that
were pinned to lapels here and there. Unlike the comparably lavish Paris launch, there was no tower of bottles, no flashy
reveal, and no white confetti either. There was merely a pair of tester bottles
on a sober white pedestal – arguably more in sync with the house’s aesthetic
and yet not very exciting – and a surplus of hors d’oeuvre-bearing waiters. I
was kind of hoping I would have to follow the scent across an unlit room to its
source on the gaunt neck of a nude model, or something to that effect. I gave
up a ticket to Die Zauberflote so I could attend, for pete’s
sake! Admittedly, that imaginary scenario is more for-its-own-sake wackitude
than something actually meaningful, but surely the passing of lukewarm beet
canapes isn’t the only alternative.
Conversely, the house appeared intent
on taking its fragrance seriously even if no one else cared to. The testers
bottles were accompanied by a handful of small vials bearing samples of
(untitled)’s featured raw ingredients (galbanum, galbanum resinoid, bigarade
orange, lentiscus resinoid (mastic), and incense) – a thoughtful way of being
informative that, by my count, about three partygoers took advantage of. Considering
the fashion-oriented crowd and the mill-about, free champagne mood of the
gathering, that forlorn display seemed to cry out for all the perfume geeks who
weren’t there. It worked as a visual reminder of the house’s preoccupation with
construction and process, but then if they really wanted (untitled) to live up
to its name and “to hold different meanings for different people” (which itself
is not a particularly unique sentiment about perfume), they might have
considered not publicizing the list of notes at all, as Hermès did with their
new Voyage.
I like (untitled) more than I’m
letting on. But at the end of the day, I would’ve believed any number of other
designer names slapped on the smart, paint-dipped lab bottle, and I find it
difficult to believe (as the house insists) that Martin Margiela himself had anything to do
with the project.
II.
The most curious part of the whole
enterprise, though, is the deliberately obfuscated marketing copy being used to
promote it. In the interest of mining the true intentions behind (untitled), I
took the liberty of translating a few breezy excerpts into more everyday
statements:
“Everyone can feel called into question by a colour, a shape or a garment… We wanted to give perfume the same chance. Stripped of any reference to an influence of precise climate, (untitled) can be interpreted and worn for all occasions by every one of us.”
• • •
“For its first olfactive creation, Maison Martin Margiela has chosen to strike out on a new path, reformulating the forgotten green fragrances that symbolised the femininity of the 1970s… The principal element of this woody green floral is Galbanum, a fine and rare raw material. Its incisive notes are boosted with the bitterness of box green, the vibrancy of lentiscus and incense, and the smoothness of bitter orange. Like a huge armful of plants harvested just after the rain, its raw state recalling pared-down garments and hems cut open, emblematic signatures of Maison Martin Margiela.”
Translation: “For our first
scent we chose to try one of those green fragrances we learned about. It’s said
they are reminiscent of a perfumery style from the ‘70s, and we totally heart the idea
of ‘reinterpreting’ and ‘reinventing’ things from the past… The best way of
blasting someone with green freshness is evidently a double-hit of galbanum,
which is suitably uncommon and smells enough like wet plants that people can
describe it as something other than just ‘clean.’ Then we loaded up on that awesome bigarade and some other, more subdued notes that make it smell discreetly
expensive.”
• • •
“Faithful to its philosophy of metamorphosis, of finding a ›second life‹, Maison Martin Margiela turns this exhumed classical foundation upside down, and contrasts it with resonances of sweet jasmine and musky cedar. Its striking pedigree is then edged with a dense, almost filmy warmth.” (weird emphasis theirs)
• • •
“I know that perfume must not follow a fashion or a trend, but an instinct. This first perfume expresses a femininity which does not fit into formal categories… I am grateful to Maison Martin Margiela for whispering the formula for this perfume into my ear.” -- Daniela Andrier, perfumer
• • •
“By creating fragrances woven in the most beautiful raw materials and melted with poetic impetus that is found in the inspired wearer, perfume can be saved from the terrible trivialization that threatens it. This is how I wrote the formula for this first perfume for Maison Martin Margiela, with that special grace that comes with the perception of the obvious, that clarity that gives us wings in the wonderful encounters of our lives.” -- Daniela Andrier
• • •
(untitled) is available in 30ml, 50ml
and 75ml sizes at Maison Martin Margiela boutiques and online at Colette.
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