Naomi Goodsir Nuit de Bakélite

The woman a master of mystique, Naomi Goodsir is an elusive character. Despite having spent the best part of two decades dressing the heads of international celebrities, models and national opera companies, the Australian couture milliner has shunned fame. Marrying the virtues of couture classicism with punk, goth and oftentimes fetish influences, Goodsir’s creative universe is a fascinating one, albeit a well-guarded one. Fortunately for us mere mortals, Goodsir does offer a spyglass view into her beguiling word with the Naomi Goodsir Parfums collection.

Composed around emblematic raw materials – leather, incense, tobacco, iris, and tuberose – the Parfums are an olfactory encapsulation of Goodsir’s haughty, if not antagonistic at times creative style. And none are a better example of this than the tuberose offering, Nuit de Bakélite.

Goodsir describes Nuit de Bakélite as “a focus on the small peduncle that connects the flower to the stem, the sound of latex when several stalks of tuberose tangle, the wild majesty of the Persian tuberose”, elaborating that the perfume is that of a “narcotic lady – green, obsessive & addictive”. True to the fantasy of her creative style, I find equal part sense and madness in that description but am in complete agreement that Nuit de Bakélite is a hyperreal interpretation of stem-and-sap tuberose, and for that it is addictive, at least to those tuberose obsessives amongst us.

Naomi Goodsir offers this by way of an official notes list:

tuberose, galbanum, angelica, immortelle, woody notes, leather, styrax

The impression one might take away from the official notes list is that of a dark, broodingly balsamic green tuberose, which is true of Nuit de Bakélite, but there are more notes present beyond just those the brand lists. My experience would suggest:

tuberose, galbanum, angelica, artemisia, orris, carrot seed, karo karounde, tobacco, guaiac wood, leather, styrax, white musk

Nuit de Bakélite is a tuberose fragrance, though I feel I should pre-empt this review by stating that it has nothing in common with the conventional buttered floral femininity of tuberoses like Fracas, and only a passing resemblance to flashy florist-shop green tuberoses of the Carnal Flower and Tubéreuse Criminelle kind. With its floralcy lost in the hostility of its green pungency and the smokiness of its woods, Nuit de Bakélite is an altogether more avant-garde take on tuberose, which is important to say because it is not a perfume that should be approached with any kind of preconception.

Exploding with herbaceous, almost malevolently bitter galbanum and artemisia, Nuit de Bakélite is entirely green from the atomiser. Seconds later, angelica lends a touch of gentle sweetness which only goes to further highlight the bitterness of the greens, before, suddenly, earthen orris and the cool vegetalness of carrot seed appear from amongst the verdancy to temper the seemingly endless explosion of green. Only against this poisonous green backdrop does Nuit de Bakélite begin to reveal its floralcy when a measured dose of tuberose emerges from the depths, though in tandem with the spiced herbality of karo karounde, the tuberose here is very much more sap-and-leaves than voluptuously floral in nature. In this olfactory clash of hostility and delicacy, it is never tuberose’s feminine floralcy that wins out, not even as the tuberose grows in presence towards the heart.

It is hard to say when exactly because it sneaks up on you at different times with each wear, but somewhere between the opening and the drydown emerges Nuit de Bakélite’s namesake accord, the Bakelite. That now “retro” plastic of rotary telephones, art deco radios and ladies evening clutches, Bakelite has a strangely familiar, if entirely synthetic scent profile which presents itself as an inky, smoky, altogether artificial flourish on the tuberose greenness of the composition. Here too marks the transition of Nuit de Bakélite from a strictly sap-and-leaves tuberose to one that becomes smokier, darker, more balsamic and definitely woodier.

Like tuberose absolute which is darker and spicier than one might expect of the white petalled tuberose flower, Nuit de Bakélite’s drydown is a chorus of dirtier, darker and spicier elements than even its poisonous green opening might have suggested. Smouldering tobacco, parched styrax, leather and, ashy, orris smeared guaiac wood render the drydown much more sensuous in the base, even with the still present green tendrils of galbanum and artemisia. The drydown is carnal in a clandestine sort of way, very much more intellectual than the overt come-hither appeal of tuberoses in the Fracas style, and this pretty well sums up Nuit de Bakélite for me; it is intellectual in the way that Naomi Goodsir’s creative style is.

To me at least, the hallmarks of a great perfume are 1) the quality of its materials, 2) the artistry of its composition, and 3) evocation. Naomi Goodsir’s Nuit de Bakélite possesses all three in spades. Here we have a hyperreal interpretation of stem-and-sap tuberose with a vegetal green heart atop a dry, smoky, spicy styrax/leather base that manages to traverse all notions of what a tuberose perfume should be. A perfume for the perfumerati, not the department store counter layman, this is what modern perfumery can and should be.

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Year of Release: 2017

Creative Direction: Naomi Goodsir

Perfumer: Isabelle Doyen

Alternatives: Serge Lutens Tubéreuse Criminelle

Available: Peony Melbourne and www.naomigoodsir.com for $264, 50ml