As I wade through my over-stuffed collection, several fragrances are immediate candidates for the chopping block. And because it is perhaps the most recent example, Báinín by Cloon Keen Atelier is the first to jump to mind.
I bought this blind for two reasons. First, Cloon Keen Atelier doesn’t sell samples, not even in Ireland, and second, I got carried away by the reviews, which promised gorse, wild Irish countrysides, the texture of Arran-sweater-type wool, and romantic strolls up Howth’s Head, all things with which I am intimately familiar yet felt compelled to own in perfume form. So, a deeply stupid purchase decision on all counts, I think you’ll agree.
The opening is great – fresh, green, as spiky and botanically juicy as rolling around in an Irish field in springtime. The promised gorse, or what I think is supposed to be gorse, is a coarse yellow floral accord that is somewhat coconut adjacent, but more the fibrous shell than sunscreen milk. But then I start to get that scratchy feeling at the back of my throat when I smell the overly smooth, slippery synthetics of body lotion or shampoo, you know, that unbearably glossy benzyl salicylate (or Hedione) feel. It has all the depth and grit of a melted down hard-boiled glucose sweet, specifically an orange-flavoured one.
But that’s not the worst offender – not by a country mile. I mean, I can deal with a liquid soap element if it comes buffeted on either side by notes I happen to like. Rose 31’s pungent cedar, for example, drowns out its lotiony undercurrent very efficiently. It’s just that here it comes joined to a perfume note that happens to be my personal nemesis, i.e., neroli. Goddamn but I hate the stuff. And Báinín just so happens to be an absurdly HUGE neroli. It manages to disguise its neroli-ness at first but when it shows its true colours, I need to physically remove it from my skin.
Arran sweaters and gorse-strewn Irish landscapes my ass.
Cover Image: Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
lol I love this article!
Have you come across a perfume that does captures that gorse-strewn Irish landscape?
Actually, I don’t think I have – not really, anyway! You’re prompting a vague memory of something by The Burren Perfumery but I’d have to go back there and figure out which one it was (smelled a bit bitter, like crushed dandelion stems). There might be something in here: https://takeonethingoff.com/golden-green-perfumes-for-an-irish-spring/