Le Labo isn’t just a fragrance brand—it’s more like a mad alchemist's lab, where potions of seduction and intrigue are blended before your very eyes. Each perfume comes alive at the moment of purchase, with a dash of this, a sprinkle of that, like a secret recipe passed down by perfumers who moonlight as sorcerers.
Their scent names are numbers—cryptic little nods to the ingredients within, but don’t be misled. Just because the bottle says “Tonka” or “Vetiver” doesn’t mean you’ll get a straight hit of either. No, Le Labo likes to play with your expectations, much like a magician pulling the unexpected from his hat.
Take Tonka 25, for example. You’d think, with a name like that, you’d be stepping into a rich, cozy room filled with the warmth of roasted tonka beans. But no—Tonka 25 is more of an elusive shadow in the twilight. Imagine a sun-dappled forest at the height of summer, its floor strewn with amber leaves and soft, resinous seeds, humming with mystery. The air is heavy, saturated with the musky scent of warm skin, as though the trees themselves have secrets they’re not telling.
The perfume starts with a fleeting hint of orange blossom, like catching a glimpse of something sweet and soft just out of the corner of your eye, before it vanishes, leaving you wandering deeper into the woods. There, Atlas cedar stands tall, stoic, and earthy, while musks swirl around you like the comforting embrace of an old, familiar blanket.
Tonka 25 is a mood. It’s a whispered conversation in a dimly lit room, a slow burn, like embers that refuse to die out. It smells like the cool touch of skin after a day spent basking in the sun, or the way old wooden furniture creaks when no one’s around—alive with history and memory. It doesn’t announce itself but lingers quietly, drawing you closer, inviting you to discover its layers. Much like a book you can’t put down, this scent evolves with every page—or in this case, every sniff.
Then there’s Labdanum 18, the fragrance that can’t quite be pinned down. It’s like that mysterious character in a novel—always there, yet always just beyond reach. On the surface, it’s rich and amber-laden, promising warmth and a touch of sweetness. But
Labdanum 18 doesn’t follow the rules.
It’s a fragrance that speaks in hushed tones, like a secret shared between lovers, or a barely audible melody that only the keenest ear can hear. It's as if someone took the raw, primal energy of the earth and whispered it into existence. There’s a dirty, animalic edge at first, like a panther prowling through dense underbrush, only to reveal a softer side as time wears on.
Eventually, it fades into a powdery musk, like the softest cashmere draped across your skin, with a quiet elegance that’s unmistakable.
Labdanum 18 is a riddle wrapped in an amber cloud. It's the fragrance of ancient libraries where dusty tomes hold stories long forgotten, or the scent of candle smoke after the flame has burned out, leaving behind a ghost of warmth. It's an enigma—never fully revealing itself, yet always drawing you in with its soft allure. And like the finest mysteries, it keeps you coming back, trying to unravel its secrets with each wear.
Le Labo fragrances are like tales spun from the most poetic fragments of life—elusive, evocative, and full of contradictions.
One minute you’re smelling sunlight filtering through the trees, the next you’re in a smoky speakeasy at midnight, a glass of aged whiskey in hand.
They don’t just sit on your skin; they live there, evolving, adapting, always shifting. It’s as if each perfume is its own novel, with characters that slowly reveal themselves chapter by chapter—layer by layer. Some moments are bright and effervescent, others are dark, brooding, and mysterious.
Summa summarum, in case you're ready to embark on an olfactory journey that reads like a love letter to all your senses, Le Labo awaits. Just don’t expect the obvious, because like all the best stories, it’s what’s left unsaid that makes it unforgettable.
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Words by AW.
Photos courtesy of Le Labo.