Perfume Review: Humiecki & Graef Skarb

Let me preface the post by saying that I feel I should be fully qualified to understand and appreciate Humiecki & Graef’s olfactory effort, Skarb. I am Slavic, in more ways than one. I have made seen Slavic men cry. I love practically everything Christophe Laudamiel has ever created. I am fairly broad-minded and can relate to the creators’ desire to break free from the conceptual confines of perfume-about-love, perfume-about-sex, perfume-about-travels-to-exotic-lands. Having said that, I do have my reservations about bringing politics or any sort of agenda into perfume. That I feel the horrors of National Socialism and Perfume just don’t “go”. And that I find the idea of a scent about crying rather depressing. To put the long story short, this concept doesn’t rock my boat. Perfume itself, on the other hand, does. I will not engage in the game of guessing which notes of the “star-shaped” composition were meant to represent which sides of the mysterious and sensitive Slavic soul and of the sacred rite that is men’s crying. The presence of some of the notes I could have guessed before smelling Skarb or reading its description. A Slavic-inspired perfume must have incense. And you can’t make perfume inspired by crying without a watery accord. By the way, predictable or rather unavoidable as it is in this case, that accord is what makes the perfume so recognizably Laudamiel for me. The raw, salty, leathery-animalic feel of it reminds me of S-Perfume S-ex, and, dare I say it, it is the “watery accord” that makes Skarb smell interesting, that sets it apart from the ubiquitous spicy-incensey offerings one can now find in dozens at any store specializing in niche perfumes. I also love the pungent greenness of the scent, the meaty earthiness, the unexpected piquant sweetness. It has the kind of oddness that I think should be the only one allowed in perfumery- the wearable kind. Again, that is something unique to Laudamiel’s creations, as is the quirky sort of elegance and unexpected versatility that Skarb has. You could put it on to reconnect with your Slavic soul and to brood about the tumultuous history of Central and Eastern Europe in the 20th century. Or you could easily wear it to your down-to-materialistic-earth and politically correct office and it would feel quite natural there too. And by You I mean a man or a woman, because, despite the man-oriented premise, Skarb is resolutely unisex. Available at Luckyscent, for the price that, in the spirit of the scent, was probably meant to make you cry, $210.00 for 100ml.