Peau d’Espagne (Spanish Skin) by Santa Maria Novella is a faithful rendering of an old and intense aromatic essence dating back to the 16th century, used to scent and treat animal hides and skins. Its fortifying combination of dry woods, clove, bergamot, and florals form a blend that is deeply associated with the smell of leather. A powerful tannic astringency unfurls to reveal a pleasure of resinous, herbal, and spicy tones. Indeed, Peau d’Espagne captures the beginning of the enduring legacy of leather in perfumery, and is indeed an example of the intimate connection between smell, pleasure, and transformation. Orto Parisi’s Cuoium, from cuoio, leather in Italian, is a modern perfume that pays tribute to this ancient practice as well as the handiwork of the leather craft. The intense olfactory contrast of untreated skin is met with the warmth of incense and the sweetness of violet flower, its power ringing with smoky and spicy cade wood. Cuoium makes use of a historically important leather synthetic known as isobutyl quinoline, traditionally used in classic chypres. It is powerful, animalic, sharp, and connects with earthy notes of patchouli, vetiver, tobacco, and oakmoss. Its tenacious radiance reinforces the strength and impact associated with the leather family.
Andy Tauer leans into an image of the American West in Lonestar Memories: “the scent of a lonesome rider, wearing old jeans and a leather jacket, after a long day on the horse in the dry woods, preparing his coffee on the open, smoky fire”. It is a fantasy and an invocation all at once: an arid landscape is worked by the salubrious touch of clary sage and the remarkable textures of carrot seed and geranium. This ode to birch tar forms a rich smoky accord, blending with the clean astringent line of myrrh resin and decadent tonka, sandalwood, and vetiver; it is an homage to the classic phenolic image of leather. Similarly, Rien (Etat Libre d’Orange) works with a whopping extreme of 80 or so notes. Its opening is bracingly bitter in the vein of the legendary Bandit (Robert Piguet, 1944), as animalics and leather notes are charged through and through with astringent green notes, especially oakmoss. Rien is bold and clings to the body and perseveres in the mind – it is an addiction of spiced and smoked leather – it is decadent, sinful, and reveals itself on the flesh. Notably, amongst notes of searingly hot black pepper, incense, labdanum, and patchouli, Rien employs safraleine, a vibrant and warm leather molecule, faceted with the metallic shimmer of saffron and the spicy-fruity nuance of rose. Delicacy is found in the very depths of Rien.
Tom of Finland also from Etat Libre d’Orange inverts Rien’s raw and animalic leathery strength, realising the promise of suede with a fetishistic rubber accent. Safraleine remains the core leathery facet, which is washed with lemon, soapy aldehydes, and musks redolent of classic pine-and-fern scented shaving creams. It is then softened with iris, tonka, and vanilla notes, sizzling with salty amber in the base. The scent is lavishly decorated; leather becomes a firm and marble body to be adorned and venerated. Tom of Finland is classically-coded so that it reads as a traditional masculine fragrance, but it is equally embellished with a fine sense of exaggeration and provocation – it is simply itself – all of itself.
Finally, Zoologist’s Beaver continues to both locate and extend the cleanliness found within the heart of the leather note, at first relying upon the leathery and musky tonality of castoreum which becomes the base that starts a flight of the imagination – fresh woody notes dredged in an aqueous brine, Beaver is all at once leathery, smoky, dry, watery, and fresh. It marries leather and musks with an uncommon feeling of freshness – it is supremely elegant. With Beaver, one pictures felled trees resting on undergrowth, coated in the aerial aroma of linden blossoms, which is faintly citric, floral, and honey-like all at once.
