Farewell to L’Artisan, My First Love

Introduction: What Is L’Artisan Parfumeur?

L’Artisan Parfumeur was founded by Jean Laporte in 1976 as the world’s first niche fragrance brand, and went on to establish a standing worthy of its name: L’Artisan, French for a craftsman of scent.
At the time, fashion brands with glamorous images were releasing much the same sorts of fragrances to appeal to everyone, to the detriment of perfume’s own artistry and individuality.
Into that world, L’Artisan’s stance and convictions introduced a challenge. It did not take long for perfume lovers to be drawn to the house, and in time it even produced a perfume that would be called “the French Revolution of fragrance.”

Meeting L’Artisan, My First Love

I encountered that proud house, L’Artisan, in 2011, the year I entered university.
On my first visit to the fragrance section at Isetan Shinjuku, I knocked on the door of the dazzling, sensual world of perfume. I was captivated by the beautiful bottles in all their different colors and by the beauty of the scents in the air. As I encountered houses such as Floris, Annick Goutal and Tom Ford, I realized that I had become enthralled by the world of one particular house. That house was L’Artisan.

Meeting Voleur de Roses, the Perfume I Was Destined to Find

L’Artisan was “different” then: there was something about it that stood out even among perfume houses. And Voleur de Roses, my eternal first love, is one of its great perfumes. It is a fragrance that seems to embody the scents that only L’Artisan could create. “Voleur de Roses” means “rose thief.” Hearing “rose thief,” you might imagine a romantic name for a classic rose scent: glamorous, sweet and feminine. But it is the exact opposite. Yes, the exact opposite. The “rose thief” evokes a rose garden scattered by a passing storm. It would be closer to say that a red rose has been completely covered in earth. There is almost none of the sweetness characteristic of roses, as though it has, indeed, been “stolen.” Smell it, and a red rose appears, enveloped in its main note: patchouli like calligraphy ink. There is no soft, romantic rose here, like some princess or aristocratic young lady. What stands here is the proud rose of an independent, dignified, stern queen. The rose concealed beneath patchouli, beneath earth, drifts toward me solemnly and quietly, yet with a deep sensuality. Voleur de Roses is certainly not a perfume that appeals to everyone; in a sense, I feel it is a perfume for connoisseurs.

The Death of L’Artisan

I believed that the pride of L’Artisan, capable of creating such a noble scent, would endure forever, and that things would always stay that way. But after the Spanish company Puig acquired it in January 2015, the machinery gradually began to go awry. Then came the relaunch in February 2017: gone were the vivid colors and different labels for each scent, along with the aristocratic, luxurious design that seemed to symbolize the good old days. In what was called a “return to its roots,” everything became black, modern and simple. After that, nearly 20 perfumes were discontinued, and Voleur de Roses was among them. I am biased because it was my first love, but I will never be able to understand why even this scent, which seemed to embody the very identity of L’Artisan, was discontinued. I was distraught for a while when it happened, but I could not change the facts. Hoping that the L’Artisan I loved was still there, I looked at the perfumes newly released in April for a replacement. What I felt, as a result, was that the L’Artisan I knew had vanished somewhere. The noble, proud house with its own sense of dignity was no longer there. Instead, there was a different perfume maker called “L’Artisan.”

In Closing: Unchanging Feelings and Once-in-a-Lifetime Encounters

Every happy encounter carries an inevitable parting. And sometimes that parting comes without warning. I know that perfectly well. Even so, more than the demise of Voleur de Roses, the death of L’Artisan was a loss I found hard to accept. How ironic that the proud L’Artisan, which had brought a revolution to a perfume industry that had become too commercial and lost something precious, restoring artistry and individuality, should become steeped in the very lack of individuality it had once opposed. Yet the L’Artisan of the good old days certainly lives on within me. Nothing changes the fact that it set me on my perfume journey and taught me to love fragrance, or that Voleur de Roses and the L’Artisan of old will forever be my first love. I want to keep delighting in my life with perfume, and treasuring the many once-in-a-lifetime encounters with fragrances still to come.