Fantôme Perfume: Review Part 1

Fantôme Perfumes, run by Bree and Megan (#womensupportingwomen) makes both fractionated coconut oil-based perfumes and eau de parfums (if you're international, they swap the alcohol for IPM) inspired by cultures around the world, and in particular, their Japan Collection tends to get a lot of love (so it was only fitting that I took 'weird flex' product shots on top of our tatami).

Ethically sourced, never is any ingredient used tested on animals nor do they buy from suppliers that do. Whilst the majority of the catalogue is vegan, it should be noted that anything that has butter note is not.

My overall shopping experience with Fantôme was great; the site was simple to navigate with clear collection 'cuts', and they had a master scent list (a 'must' in my books). What was truly impressive, however, was the amazingly fast TAT + shipping. I got my order within two weeks with the free shipping option for orders over $35, and I'm international.

Moving on to my order, I brought a total of eight half-dram samples, with Triton (my ninth scent) being a half-size freebie, here's what I think of them:-

Amria 

Roses? Figs? Cassis? If the notes look appealing to you, you’re bound to least fall in love with her opening, because Bree and Megan take all their best qualities and highlight them in Amria, and if the opening had lasted through the first hour - I would have easily threw in a full bottle for my next order.

Wet, this smells like honeyed berry booze with a slightly sharp vinegary edge, before dry rose petals and black tea leaves go in the mix. This isn’t a tea heavy scent, but the tea note does become stronger on skin, whereas the elusive black currant fades early on. 

Dried down, it’s a sweet dragon’s blood blend with faint powdery petals, heavy on the warm skin musk, complete with a mouth watering fig compote note. Although she lies a little flat in comparison to its stellar opening, Amria now feels familiar and exotic all at once, welcomingly warm but haughty, and it certainly wouldn’t be out of place on an Eastern princess’s boudoir vanity.

Notes: Crushed rose petals, honeyed figs, black currants, and black tea. Hints of tonka bean, orange blossom, amber, and dragon's blood.

Faun 

The combination of neroli and oakmoss makes for a very spring inspired scent, and Fantome’s description is that Faun is only deceptively sweet before taking a darker turn. Yet, on my skin, it skips the sweetness and goes right into the woods.

Damp, the neroli has a bitter edge, whilst the grapefruit and vetiver amplify its citrus facets, iris softening out its sharper qualities. The iris here actually reminds me a little of the one in Eau de Ciel (they give off the same innocent vibe). Oakmoss is the other dominant note, and dried down - Faun smells like dark moss and woods with a spritz of Roja Dove’s Neroli.

Faun is a well polished, ‘sad pretty’ type of scent (some people look like faeries as they cry, Faun would be one of them) that feels cold and lonely, and smells a lot more expensive than it’s price tag. A must try from their catalogue if you want to try a darker scent without the typical musk/incense/resin notes.

Notes: Opens with a deceptive hint of sweetness from neroli, grapefruit, and iris—then deepens into dark vetiver, oakmoss swirled in amber, and hints of animalic musk.

Kinmokusei

Osmanthus - such an elusive note, and so hard to create the impression of too. Liza is well aware of the many osmanthus plants in our inner garden as it’s one of our family’s favourite flowers to use both for cooking and for tea, and I have still yet to find an accurate representation (Hermes’ Osmanthe Yunnan, while gorgeous - isn’t quite as heady as I’m hoping for).

Osmanthus, for me, this was not; but it wasn’t the pretty (read: office friendly) fruity floral I imagined Kinmokusei would be either. 

Some people find that the indolic queens of the white floral family (jasmine and tuberose) smell like cat pee on them, I - being a dog-owner - cannot comment on what cat pee smells like; but something in this definitely reminds me of the changing room at public basketball courts. Sweaty, with a spike of something both leathery and plasticky.

Maybe it’s the overripe apricot fruit that can bring to mind leather connotations (traditionally, leather was treated with urine in tanneries). Or it’s the bitter yet tangy citrus (I mean. pee is, after all, very acidic)… Nevertheless, this one was a scrubber for me.

Notes: Ripe apricot, juicy peach, tree sap, golden blossoms with a hint of citrus, and deep, resinous amber.

Kyuu Kohi

Imagine drinking a cup of herbal coffee at the rest area! There’s no tropical breeze, or raindrops on pavements for me when I smell Kyuu Kohi; there is an ozonic note, but it’s not nearly balmy or humid enough to conjure up images of summer. 

Instead, Kyuu Kohi is akin to a nearby car leaking motor oil as I savour my bougie cup of flavoured coffee that costs more than any other menu item served at the rest area; perhaps, as I watch the sun set behind the city skyline earlier than expected. My coffee doesn’t taste like incense, but it does smell of something bitter and green - medicinal.

The vanilla cream note here is soft and round, and not a lot of lactose action is going on either. In fact, wet - it’s hard to pick out the cream and milkiness, but it does come up a little more as wisps of sweetness once the scent settles.

Kyuu Kohi is a little strange, but very evocative and atmospheric, and if you’re fond of atmospheric scents - this has an interesting twist. Kyuu Kohi is a young professional that flips their hair and says ‘I hustle’ in front of fresh uni graduates.

Notes: Coffee, nag champa incense, a warm tropical breeze, summer rain on pavement, and a drop of vanilla cream.

Lycanthrope 

It’s been a while since I’ve been so enamoured by a tomato leaf scent. Lycanthrope feels like a tomato leaf fragrance for those that think they hate it, standing out by highlighting the spiciness of it. Any sharpness and vegetal qualities (I know, tomato is a fruit, but one can’t deny that it does smell viney and ‘vegetal’) tamed with juicy peach and lychee syrup over a base of soft vanilla musk.

Next to the dark ambers and moss of Faun, Lycanthrope smells mischievous, lush and sweet, with the slightest spicy edge and citrus lift. It’s not one that makes you feel sophisticated or demands that you dress up to match the scent. Instead, there’s something almost domestic about it, like sitting on the kitchen counter on a sunny day in a white tee and ripped jeans, dazing about and doing nothing (or maybe taking a few dog videos). It’s so hard to sulk with this one on.

Notes: Spicy tomato leaf, dark honey, and oakmoss, with hints of peach, lychee, ivy, vanilla, and tomatoes fresh from the vine.

Lymphae

Funnily enough, wet - Lymphae shares the same sharp, medicinal motor oil scent that Kyuu Kohi has, except, in Kyuu Kohi - it doesn’t fade. And I wonder if that’s how the ozonic note that Fantome uses reads on my skin as I’m not having any of that with Triton (which has one of the mentioned wind or breeze). It’s sad to think that both the spring and summer thunderstorms come across as sweet gasoline on me!

Once the initial motor oil takes a backseat (ha!), Lymphae smells like a puff clean musk with a tiny smidgen of orange blossoms over wet mineral-rich soil, taking a sweeter turn once it dries down completely. Vanilla tends to be a note that amps up sweet on me towards the end of scents, so that may be what’s happening as well, because Lymphae remains cold and aloof on paper - heavier on the lilac and musk, with an astringent tang.

Lymphae creates a very hazy, gauzy appearance when worn. Never going fully aquatic or salty. Surprisingly comfortable and easy to wear. I really like this and can see it being beautiful on the right person, but it just doesn’t feel ‘me’ (aka. will nee contemplate on that full bottle).

Notes: White musk, cool vanilla, a swift-running stream, Italian lilac, orange blossom, damp earth, and the ozone of spring thunderstorms.

Olwyn

Olwyn is the type of plush and velvety white floral that rarely goes wrong for me. In the bottle, there’s something powdery lingering there - but as soon as it touches skin, Olywn blooms beautifully. 

Imagine smelling a buttercream flower - that’s… not made out of buttercream, but an actual dessert flower with its roots firmly planted. That’s Olwyn. Lush indolic white petals, the white flowers here really take the cake (muahahaha, no one shall ever be excused from my bad puns), as fruity magnolia pairs with thick and heady jasmine and gardenia over a base of warm creamy things.

Olwyn doesn't really take a lot of turns with it’s on-skin scent from start to finish, but what differentiates it from a lot of recent designer floral releases - is that there’s an almost bread-like aroma to it, perhaps due to the ‘buttery vanilla’ note listed. I can’t pick it out, but it makes Olwyn feel decadent and dreamy - going back to that buttercream flower imagery. White florals can feel ‘heavy’, but the flowers here aren’t so heavy by themselves, instead, it's the gourmand-style base that lends it’s weight here.

I’m a little sad that Olwyn doesn’t leave a gorgeous scent trial (typical white floral-style), but regardless, this is one I shall be buying a full size of.

Notes: Magnolias, white lilies, night-blooming jasmine, and gardenias over rich, buttery vanilla, myrrh, benzoin, and a hint of orange blossom.

Tatami

Tatami is the only Fantome I’d smelt before this order, and I remember having liked it - but not enough to justify a full bottle. Smelling it again, it lacks the dry vanilla hay quality I associate to aged tatami mats. It’s more green and crunchy, but still a great interpretation as Fantome had opted for cypress and rendered an accord in the likeness of rice straw.

We have tatami mats lain over our floors (cabinets really, as it’s hollow under the mats) on the ground floor, and I think my main problem with Tatami is how ‘wet’ it smells. To me, a wet tatami means humid weather, which means that the dehumidifier should be on and I should be off the mat.

There’s also the natural nuttiness of straw mats that wasn’t able to be bottled - but once again, this is cypress - each tatami mat also differs in itself, and those of Fantome’s temples may be new mats yet to be tainted by touch.

Regardless, while it brings to mind high class onsen resorts* for me instead of the temples - I am only overly skeptical of Tatami because I am reviewing this scent seated upon rows and rows of tatami mats; and Tatami remains one of the standouts in their collection and a wonderfully crafted interpretation. I have still yet to smell something as close as Tatami has come to the real thing.

*the Suimeikan’s cypress bath at the Rinsen house is lovely this time of the year (late spring/before the cusp of summer hits)

Notes: The welcoming and familiar scent of a Japanese temple. Tatami—rice straw mats warmed in the sun-—with a hint of temple incense.

Triton

Freshly applied, Triton smells exactly like sea spray to me, with a heavy dose of bitter frankincense and a bite of citrus. Triton is sharp, and when wet - it’s the most traditionally masculine of the lot.

Frankly, Triton loses it’s sharp edge (ha! more puns!) fairly quickly and it smells of sweetened aquatic musk, with a fairly tame dose of ‘green’ and citrus peel. I don’t get a lot of mossiness here, instead, most of the greenery is leafy and herbaceous over the oceanic notes and sweet resin. By now, it’s of a much more gentle character and Kyuu Kohi could easily win against Triton in an arm wrestling match.

Despite the sweet resinous take on the traditional aquatic/citrus blend, since I’m not the biggest fan of such blends - as they remind me of spa body products more than perfumes - Triton wasn’t something I was blown away by purely by the notes, but it's not something I’d be opposed to wear given I was in the right mood for an aquatic either. 

Notes: Oceanic, green, resinous. Murky sea water, ambergris, ancient forest mosses, crushed leaves, frankincense, resins, ozone, with a hint of citrus.

Notice that I haven’t mentioned longevity throughout the review - whilst the scents (barring Kinmokusei) all smelt amazing and much more expensive than their actual price, one major drawback for me was the lack of wear time. 

Whilst I’d expected Lymphae to fade on me quickly, and to a certain extent Lycanthrope and Faun - all the perfumes lasted no more than four hours on my skin unless it’s right up under my nose, even the deeper scents such as Kyuu Kohi and Tatami (I took one sniff and thought ‘this would last all day for sure’!) didn’t make it past the sixth hour.

At it’s price point, for such high quality scents, I don’t find reapplying a problem (I’ll just get the roller ball instead of spray packaging, no biggie); but I know some folks may find longevity to be a major factor. 

Regardless, this is probably my favourite indie perfume purchase in a long time and I’m beyond impressed. 

Everything was packaged beautifully (+ safely), complete with a sweet handwritten thank-you note from the lovely couple, and my only regret is that their catalogue isn’t bigger (probably a blessing in disguise for my wallet, really).