FAT ELECTRICIAN

Remarkable People.
You know who you are.
For every epoch, for every era, there are remarkable people.
In classical mythologies, there were the demigods, the offspring of a god and a human, or a mortal who was raised to divine status. An ancient Greek poet used the word demigod as a synonym for hero. They demonstrated strength and power, a willingness to face challenges and confront danger. In the New World, there were the explorers, who discovered unknown lands. They were heroes too, battling forces of nature to find new territories. And throughout history - scientists, artists, composers, entertainers - all heroes in their own way. New heroes are born every day. There is an element, or an event, or a circumstance, or maybe just a quirk in their personalities that changes them, empowers them, enables them to transcend the ordinary. They believe in something different, something better. They want to change the rules, break the rules, alter the status quo, in whatever grand or small way they find meaningful. They are on a journey, and maybe it’s the effort alone that makes them remarkable. For some, their efforts bring fame and glory. Many others remain unknown. But they cannot - they should not - be ignored. These are our people - the remarkable citizens of Etat Libre d’Orange, the Orange Free State. The “un” people - uncompromising, unexpected, unconventional, unpredictable. We salute them, we honor them, by offering the extraordinary fragrance they deserve.

Grapefruit, champagne accord, cardamom, jasmine, curry JE, black pepper, labdanum, sandalwood, lorenox

THE MOST WANTED SCENT MADE FROM THE UNWANTED

By virtue of my mother, I am the son of a forgotten coast, far away in New Caledonia. At the mouth of the Ngoye live the Borindi, who have known since the twilight of the gods the great principle of harmony with Mother Nature:  to take from her no more than is necessary while preserving for tomorrow. They understand the future of mankind, and in the shade of the niaouli tree and jacarandas in bloom, they guide our first steps into this new direction for Etat Libre d’Orange.

In the early years of this new millennium, when my children were young and I was a hopeful thirty-year-old, I took them to see an animated film called Titan AE. I learned by heart the introduction, which went something like this:

“Once in a while, man unlocks a secret so profound that it can change the universe: fire, electricity, atom splitting.  At the dawn of the 21^st century, we invented the Titan program . . . ”

There is a jumble of romantic and titanic science fiction poetry that emerges from the slow, sure, and inevitable rocking of wastewaters in the industrial cycle. We want to make this perfume a messenger, in service not only to the survival of the species which results from seduction, but above all in service to the planet where our own miasmas must reflect beauty.

We believe that a new post-religious “jihad” is approaching, coming from an often disillusioned and polluting West, and echoing a new animistic era. Those who have committed crimes against the environment are repenting, and democracies are acknowledging nature as the sacred focal point, meant to be shared. The beliefs of the primitive and ancient tribes are back, and demand our full allegiance. This perfume will carry a universal message:  that which is dirty must reflect the beautiful,

“…and wash me clean of the bluish wine stains and the splashes of vomit,

Carrying away both rudder and anchor.” (Arthur Rimbaud, The Drunken Boat.)

Les Fleurs du Déchet represents a passage to the adulthood of Sécrétions Magnifiques. It is a counter-revolution for Etat Libre d’Orange, still noisy and disruptive, but ultimately functional.

Givaudan, Ogilvy and Etat Libre d’Orange have created a three-fold company in the service of Mother Nature, to offer her a bouquet of forgiveness and let everyone know – loudly and quickly – that soon it will be too late.

Dear world:  Do not throw anything away because at the bottom of our trash lies the fermented distillation of great love. The garbage trucks hold flowers that can still bleed, the peels and rinds that can still give. The noxious exhalations have honey notes that can merge with the earth. And there are so many floating concretions, the trash that is thrown into the sea, and the natural waste, the ambergris, mystical symbols, the attitudes of primitive tribes – these must now be reprocessed.

To paraphrase and distort Alan Paton: Cry, my beloved planet, for the unborn child; let him not love the earth too deeply, for it is slipping away.

So before it’s too late, let us (s)pray to the god of waste, our dear lord of leftovers.

End of sermon. This is a messianic fragrance (in natural spray, of course.)

— Etienne de Swardt

Apple Essence Upcycling, Rose Absolute Upcycling, Cedarwood Atlas Upcycling, Bitter Orange, Gariguette Strawberry

Who goes beside you into the forest on the darkest night ? In Victor Hugo’s poem, « À quoi songeaient les deux cavaliers dans la forêt », (What Two Horsemen Were Thinking in the Forest), the narrator says “ by my side, Hermann seemed to me like a shadow. ”

We all have shadows, even at night in the dark forest. You may call yours by another name : your invisible friend. Your conscience, your soul, maybe even your complementary ego. Your shadow could have a name, like Hermann. Or your shadow could be your perfume. This is your companion. You can argue with your companion, you can challenge your companion, you can test the boundaries of your own attitudes. You can debate the finer points of existence. But you cannot lose this companion, not ever. This is your alternative self. As you move through life and contemplate its meaning, you ask unanswerable questions. When you’re overwhelmed with uncertainties, look to your shadow. Maybe you’ll get a response. Maybe not. But at least you’ll have an interesting conversation.

The night was so black and the forest very dark.
By my side, Hermann seemed to me like a shadow.
Our horses were galloping. Guardians of god !
The clouds in the sky looked like marble.
The stars flew through the branches of the trees
Like a swarm of firebirds.

I am full of regrets. Broken by suffering,
Hermann’s deep spirit is empty of hope.
I am full of regrets. Oh my loves, sleep!
Yet, while traveling through the green solitude,
Hermann says to me: “ I am thinking about half-opened graves. ”
And I say to him : “ I think of closed tombs. ”

He looks ahead : I Iook back,
Our horses gallop across the clearing ;
The wind brings to us from far away the sound of the angelus bell ;
he says : “ I think of those who are afflicted by existence,
Of those who are, those who live ”. “ Me, ” I say to him,
“ I think of those who are no longer ! ”

The fountains are singing. What do the fountains say ?
The oaks are murmuring. What do the oaks murmur ?
The bushes are whispering like old friends.
Hermann says to me, “ The living never doze.
At this moment, some eyes cry, other eyes are awake. ”
And I say to him, “ Alas ! Other eyes are asleep ! ”

Hermann then continues. “ Misfortune, that’s life.
The dead no longer suffer. They are happy ! I envy
Their graves where grass grows, where trees shed their leaves.
Because the night caresses them with soft flames ;
Because the sky beams peace upon all their souls
In all the tombs at the same time !

And I say to him, “ Be quiet! Respect the black mystery !
The dead are lying in the ground under our feet.
The dead, these are the hearts that once loved you
This is your expired angel ! This is your father and your mother !
Do not dismay them through bitter irony.
As in a dream, they hear our voices. ”

Blackcurrant buds, black pepper, galbanum, calypsone, geosmin, frankincense, pepperwood, petalia, rose absolute, patchouli, ambroxan