By Andrew
Not long ago a poster on the Basenotes forum asked if Kouros was “fresh, or green, or sharp, or sweet, or heavy, or citrus,” and it occurred to me that the answer was “Yes.”
Well, OK, maybe not the green. But when I think about it, the genius of Kouros is that it’s several things at once, at least some of which are contradictory. Stripped down to bare structural essentials, Kouros can be interpreted as two highly contrasted accords. One is a blend of bergamot, cinnamon, and cloves, which by itself is bracing, clean, spicy-sweet, and maybe even a bit medicinal. The other is a powerfully animalic – even urinous – blend of woods and musks. For me, the tension between sanitary and dirty is the source of the scent’s power. (Ironically, it may just as well account for the “men’s room” impression that Kouros makes upon others.)
Kouros is neither the first nor the only great fragrance fueled by tension between opposing olfactory masses. Eau d’Hermès plays a bright citrus eau de Cologne idea off of a lascivious cumin, civet, and leather ensemble; Aramis sets an incongruously pretty white flower accord against a castoreum-fueled macho leather chypre; and perhaps most famously of all, Angel slaps a blaring, sweet, fruity floral up against an equally brash, almost sweaty, patchouli and woods accord. Caron’s L’Anarchiste even follows Kouros directly in juxtaposing orange and spices with a very potent, though less obviously animalic musk. In fact, in historic terms Kouros falls into an evolutionary line of clean citrus/dirty animal compositions that includes not only Eau d’Hermès and L’Anarchiste, but Cartier’s Déclaration and Frédéric Malle’s Cologne Bigarade (both by Jean-Claude Elléna, before he composed himself into a bland, effete, minimalist corner at Hermès).
Like most of these dichotomous scents, Kouros progresses in a relatively linear manner once its two main blocks fall into place. This makes perfect sense, insofar as the entire compelling effect relies upon the balance of opposed forces. The driving composition’s driving tension would falter were one of the contrasting elements to weaken relative to the other. Kouros keeps it up for hours, at the expense, perhaps, of subtlety. Angel makes the same tradeoff, and it’s no wonder that these two boldly self-contradictory and undeniably loud fragrances are equally divisive of public opinion. As with Angel, so with Kouros: you may not like it, but your understanding of modern perfumery is incomplete unless you’ve worn it.
Year: 1981
Nose: Pierre Bourdon
Notes: Laurel, artemisia, coriander, bergamot, carnation, cinnamon, geranium, jasmine, vetiver, patchouli, amber, musk.
I struggle with this one. Judging by the notes alone I should like it, but I can't quite get past the urinous opening. Very interesting, and I keep trying every now and then. Like Angel, I think it's a testament to the fact that the public is capable of appreciating difficult and challenging fragrances that Kouros remains not only on the market, but a big seller.
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