Rien

27 reseñas

Mostrando las más recientes primero.

• Brasidas

  December 29, 2014

  

  Another disgusting mess from the most cheesy house in perfumery. I felt hatred the moment I brought my nose close to the sample; it smells like a furniture cleaner made with liniment for bruises and bleach. Unfortunately, I spilled some drops on the floor and had to endure that stench for a few days (no joke). It’s nothing pleasant, elegant, or entertaining. The Nébula 1 by Oliver & CO is peculiar and half the people won’t like it, but it doesn’t offend and is olfactorily fun; this one is just bad. Longevity: unfortunately, very long. Sillage: enough to annoy your loved ones. P.S.: Please forgive the fans of this house, I just couldn’t take it anymore >:(

• Brasidas

  December 30, 2014

  

  Another abomination from the most cheesy house in perfumery. I hated it the moment I smelled it; it smells like furniture cleaner, mixing liniment for bruises and bleach. I spilled some drops on the floor and had to endure the stench for days (not a joke). It’s not pleasant, elegant, or fun; it’s simply bad. Longevity: great, sillage: enough to annoy your loved ones. P.S.: Sorry to the fans of this house, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

• blackened

  August 4, 2015

  

  This is a beast; it smells of leather, musk, myrrh, and frankincense. It’s a floral-leather and incense blend with nuclear potency. Be careful not to over-apply.

• oscarsh86

  October 16, 2015

  

  From the very first spray, what hits you hardest is leather, frankincense, and aldehydes. The opening is powerful, bitter, and even unpleasant. It doesn’t evolve much; it stays fairly linear. Maybe the only change is that it becomes slightly softer, making it marginally more bearable, but it remains an incredibly strong scent. I can’t see any woman wearing this because its rawness and bitterness don’t fit the feminine aesthetic, and it’s not for men either, simply because I don’t like it. I struggle to imagine anyone who wants to smell good and would choose this. It has excellent longevity and decent projection. I’d only recommend it to those who love strong, strange scents and want to experiment. If you’re just looking to smell good, the answer is a resounding no.

• oscarsh86

  October 29, 2015

  

  From the start, leather, incense, and aldehydes stand out. The opening is strong, bitter, and unpleasant. I don’t notice much evolution; it’s quite linear—maybe it becomes slightly softer and more wearable, but it remains a very strong scent. I don’t see it on women due to its rawness and bitterness, nor on men because the smell just doesn’t appeal to me. I struggle to imagine someone wearing this thinking they smell good. It has good longevity and acceptable projection. I recommend it only to those who like strong, strange scents for experimentation, but if someone just wants to smell good, my answer is no.

• SMAUG

  December 15, 2016

  

  It’s a somewhat mythical scent, meaning it’s the opposite of conventional. It’s rare yet very well-crafted and of high quality. Of course, in this case, the Vintage (or first edition) is better and lasts longer on the skin; even the liquid color is darker in the old version compared to the reformulated one. Regarding the smell, it’s incense-heavy, and you can clearly detect the aldehydes, cumin, iris, patchouli, oakmoss, black pepper, and roses. It’s powerful with great projection and a wide trail. It’s unisex, not emphasizing one gender over the other, perhaps better for special occasions and in temperate/cold climates, preferably at night. One of the best fragrances from the house. It also reminds me of Amouage Fate Man since they share certain notes; maybe I’ll pick up a bottle someday soon… I recommend this to those who like highly oriental and heavy scents. Longevity: 8.5/10 Versatility: 4/10 Projection: 9/10 Sillage: 8.5/10 Scent: 8.5/10 Total: 8.5

• uhm

  May 3, 2017

  

  I already knew from the notes that it wasn’t for me, and indeed, although I expected more disgust, it didn’t bother me much since I didn’t notice it too strongly; besides, it had something sweet. I expected it to be denser and more potent, but it’s relaxing. Eight hours later, it’s practically gone. I got a compliment right after applying it, so the distant sillage isn’t so bad; they said it smelled powdery. To me, it was patchouli, leather, incense, and aldehydes all at once—ugh—but considering what I expected, it’s not so bad.

• uhm

  May 7, 2017

  

  I already knew from the notes that it wasn’t for me, and indeed, while I expected more disappointment, I wasn’t bothered too much since it didn’t hit me too hard and had a sweet undertone. Based on what I read, I expected it to be denser and more of a bomb, but it’s very relaxing. Eight hours later, it’s practically invisible. I got a compliment right after putting it on, so the dry down isn’t terrible; someone told me it smelled dusty, but to me it’s patchouli, leather, incense, and aldehydes all at once—ugh. Still, considering what I expected, it’s not half bad lol.

• Emorandeira

  April 24, 2020

  

  Rien is the first sample from the Etat Libre d’Orange set that truly surprised me. Actually, it’s nothing new; it reminds me of the most balsamic and sweet part of YSL Kouros, minus most of the animal character, and it’s very similar to Roja Dove’s Diaghilev. Still, it’s an unusual and risky aroma, especially these days. The notes that stand out most are the intense, slightly animal leather; the aldehydes, which give it a soapy and spicy touch; and the frankincense, which adds strength and a balsamic tone. You can also feel the underlying resinous, woody mix, the spices, and the rose that helps powder the fragrance. It is true that it’s a difficult, different aroma, not for everyone; but at least the person wearing it escapes smelling like the 80% of people. Also, if I’m not mistaken, it’s the 6th perfume I’ve tried from the set of 20, and I have to say it’s the first with good performance. Very good longevity, up to 10 hours on skin, although the dry down becomes quite incense-heavy, with good projection for the first few hours. I see it as perhaps a more nocturnal perfume due to its intensity and unisex nature, though I think it will generally appeal more to men due to the intensity of the scent. Scent: 9, Longevity: 8, Projection: 8, Value/Quality: 7, Versatility: 6, Originality: 9, Overall: 9.

• Emorandeira

  April 24, 2020

  

  Rien is the first sample from the Etat Libre d’Orange set that truly surprised me. Honestly, it’s not entirely new; it strongly reminds me of the balsamic and sweetest facets of YSL Kouros, minus most of the animalic notes, and it bears a striking resemblance to Roja Dove’s Diaghilev. Still, it remains an unusual and bold scent, especially these days. The notes that stand out most are the leather, with its intense and slightly animalic character; the aldehydes, which give it a soapy, spicy edge; and the incense, which adds strength and that balsamic tone. I also detect the resinous, woody base and the spice blend, while the rose helps to soften the fragrance just a bit. It is certainly a difficult, unique scent that won’t appeal to everyone, but at least the wearer avoids smelling like the 80% of people around them. If I’m not mistaken, this is the 6th perfume I’ve tried from the set of 20, and I have to say it’s the first one with good performance. Excellent longevity, lasting up to 10 hours on skin, though the dry-down becomes quite incense-heavy, with decent projection for the first few hours. I see it as perhaps a more nocturnal, unisex scent due to its intensity, though I believe it will likely appeal more to men given the strength of the aroma. Scent: 9 Longevity: 8 Projection: 8 Value: 7 Versatility: 6 Originality: 9 Overall: 9

• Bofifa

  November 11, 2020

  

  I used to think Etat Libre d’Orange perfumes were mostly subtle and delicate, never stopping to consider that maybe they had something different in their lineup. That’s exactly what the very attentive owner of a niche perfume shop in Barcelona recommended to me last week for a treat. I told him what I wanted: something powerful, masculine, retro. He let me try several and saved Rien for last. Ironical name, by the way, since Rien (“Nothing” in French) is actually many things. But essentially, it’s a leather chypre that could have been born in the early eighties. I’m actually surprised to have read so few references to it on specialized pages for powerhouses and fragrances of this style. It plays in the same league as legends like Kouros, Van Cleef & Arpels pour Homme, or Channel’s Antaeus. So I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone not into this scene, because they won’t understand or appreciate it. The opening is quite brutal, the punch that all these creations usually propose, an aromatic orgy of leather, patchouli, and animalic nuances, but after five minutes the beast calms down. Around the leather, the patchouli shines, extremely earthy, like the original YSL Gentleman, with a sweet and balsamic decay. And above all, the aldehydes, which while dirty at first, gradually shift to a soapy and spicy tone, as happens with another masterpiece like Versace pour Homme. The skin is then enveloped by that bar soap cream, precious woods, and herbal notes, among which myrrh stands out, which always reminds me of the smell of a stem. This part lasts almost forever; Rien stays on the skin all day and even the next morning you can still smell it close to the skin. It’s not a pounding or invasive perfume, but rather wraps like an aura, with a trail that’s more than acceptable. And what really catches my attention is that, for example, it’s not uncommon for two different people to tell me as they pass by that I smell like a man. Yes, Rien is refined but also extremely masculine and eighties. Rien has everything I love, just like Kouros and Antaeus. It makes me feel great because I love smelling like this all day, from the very morning, without needing to reapply. I openly -almost urgently- recommend it because since the disappearance of Van Cleef & Arpels Pour Homme, I don’t see many other options today to approach a modern perfume with these characteristics without diving into the vintage market.

• Espartaco

  April 9, 2021

  

  Huge bomb. There are plenty of overpowering perfumes out there, but finding ones that are well-crafted is a different story. This Rien is a punch to the gut, and the best part is that it’s exceptionally well-made. Etat Libre d’Orange often gets a bad rap—accusations of plastic finishes or amateurish experiments. I’m not going to defend them with a sword and shield; I’ve tried terrible, washed-out, boring, and even unbearable scents from the house. But this is proof they can deliver something truly interesting. Rien (Nothing) is an eminently vintage fragrance. If you love sweets, fruity notes, or chocolate tonka, you won’t find anything here, because it positions itself from the very first spray as a dirty, rough scent. The dirtiness of Rien is the same as fresh horse manure. Anyone who’s had donkeys or other equines knows what I’m talking about; animal waste is usually disgusting and lacks nuance for poetic appreciation, while dog or cat poop is simply vomit-inducing due to its soft, excreted, and pestilent nature. But horse manure, fed on hay, fodder, and grass, has something dry, herbaceous, and powdery. I grew up with animals from every corner of Noah’s Ark and remember picking it up with my bare hands when neighbors came asking for plant fertilizer. Unlike the soupy, repulsive excrement of other mammals, equine manure practically doesn’t stain. In fact, after a few hours, it dries out, and you can even see the bits of hay stuck to it. Rien’s ultra-animal tone is right there, in the stables, stalls, and barns. This directly links it to the leather accord of great French classics from the mid-20th century—a leather with stable memories and kilos of isobutyl quinoline, the molecule that recreates that smell. With that in mind, it’s clear Rien isn’t for everyone; it’s severe, animalistic, and carries a primitive Catholic mysticism, with zero sweetness. The initial blast hits you like a bomb, knocking you backward. When I smelled it blind, as I usually do, I sensed a gummy accord, an overwhelming oily crudeness that made me think it contained Laotian oud or aldehydes, which sometimes share that sticky, tar-like tone. As it evolved, it remained bombastic but settled into a proper perfume, not an insult in your mouth. That’s when I caught a waxy, smoky scale—I thought birch. No, it’s leather, which isn’t rare since it shares many nuances with birch wood. Meanwhile, a spicy, dirty freshness undercurrent gave me insolent nose twitches, caraway or cumin. I’m glad to confirm (because nothing angers me more than failing to guess a note after a lifetime of testing perfumes) that I recognized the aldehydes, cumin, and leather, though I initially mistook them for birch. That adds nothing to the official notes but enriches my personal experience. At first, Rien follows a path of inhospitable and unpleasant things: it could be an abandoned leather sofa in a barn, a saddle worn older than Methuselah, or the ancient bed where a couple of horses sleep. All wrapped in an aura of dry, smoky accords, a symphony of waxy and earthy scales. To put it another way, if we were talking about God, this isn’t a God who forgives your sins and cradles you while stroking your hair. No, this God is vengeful and eager to kick your ass and send you to Hell to burn eternally. But beware: Heaven isn’t better either; the only thing you’ll do up there is pray. That’s how Rien works. The magic happens when the body, with airs of the Inquisition, starts to lose steam and the incense begins to sing opera. It’s a sacramental, divine incense, ecstatic, something that makes you see Marian apparitions—a precious, herbaceous, smoky, grave scent with exquisite mysticism. And damn, how beautiful it is when it joins forces with the chypre-leather or isobutyl quinoline vibe reminiscent of Greta Garbo, turning something that would be impressive but simply impossible to wear into a spiritual beauty, evocative, still difficult, but ultimately a perfume. If Rien has any faint hint of sweetness or resin as listed, it’s just two tips of broomcorn, storax, or amber so a person can wear it without feeling like they’re clad in a hairshirt, because the key to the formula is a tight blend of leather and incense, incense and leather, and back again: smoky, waxy, imposing like a Catholic cathedral. In the dry down, the rose dances beautifully with the leather, and as happens when rose meets sandalwood, the mixture becomes a divine, bitter-sweet, pasty coloring wax. I recommend it with eyes closed. If you like this family, you’ll love it without a doubt. If it doesn’t immediately appeal to you but you appreciate a well-crafted perfume, you’ll have an entertaining time watching Archangel Michael give the devil a couple of sword slashes. I loved it and find it difficult, yet with potential to make you fall for it. P.S. Longevity and sillage are excellent. P.S. II. Ideal wearers: Philip II, Hernán Cortés, Teresa of Ávila, and any historical figure you can think of related to that dark, rigorous Spain—the severe, mystical, and austere Spain. Joan of Arc would suit it well too. P.S. III. Mix the old Cuir de Lancôme with a bit of Bandit by Piguet, add a touch of Cabochard and a lot of Casbah by Piguet. Rien would be a much more formidable relative than all of these. The incense is more incense, the leather is more leather. It’s everything, all at once. P.S. IV. Mode: peacekeeper on. I’d love for people to stop comparing any leather perfume to Knize Ten. The leather in Knize is talc-like and spiced because it’s drunk on cloves, geraniums, and vanilla; it has nothing to do with isobutyl quinoline leathers, which, like this one, smell like a stable.

• Espartaco

  April 23, 2021

  

  What a bomb. There are dizzying and thunderous perfumes to give and receive, but whether they are well or poorly made is another story. This Rien is a punch to the table, and the best part is that it’s very well made. The house Etat Libre d’Orange usually gets a bad rap—plastic finish, school experiments, etc.—I won’t be the one defending them with sword and shield; I’ve tried terrible, sloppy, boring, and unbearable perfumes from the brand. But this one delivers; I found it fascinating. Rien is an eminently vintage fragrance. If you like sweet or tonka-chocolatey scents, you won’t find anything here, because it positions itself from the start as a dirty, rough perfume. The dirtiness of Rien is the same as fresh horse manure. Anyone who has had donkeys or horses knows what I mean; animal excrement is usually disgusting and unrefined, but horse dung, which feeds on hay and grass, has something dry, herbaceous, and dusty. I was raised with animals and remember picking it up with my hands when a neighbor came asking for fertilizer, because unlike the soupy feces of other mammals, equine waste practically doesn’t stain. Plus, it dries quickly, and you can see the bits of forage. Rien’s ultra-animal tone is all about the stables and stalls, related to the leather of great French classics from the mid-20th century, a leather with memories of the stable and kilos of isobutyl quinoline. With this, it’s clear Rien isn’t for everyone; it’s severe, animal, and has a primitive Catholic mysticism, without any sweetness. When you spray it, it hits you like a bombshell in the senses, knocking you backward. When I smelled it blind, I felt a gummy accord, a dizzying oily crudeness that made me think it had Laotian oud or aldehydes. As it evolves, it remains bombastic but settles like a perfume, not like an insult; there I caught a waxy, smoky scale, thinking of birch. No, it’s leather, which isn’t rare since it shares nuances with birch wood. At the same time, a subcurrent of fresh, spicy, and dirty freshness gave me insolent goosebumps, caraway or cumin. I’m glad I recognized the aldehydes, cumin, and leather, which I initially confused with birch. At first, Rien develops along that inhospitable path: an abandoned leather sofa in a loft, a saddle with more years than Methuselah, or the musty bed of some horses. All wrapped in dry, smoky accords, an earthy symphony. If we were talking about God, this isn’t the one who cuddles you, but a vengeful one who sends you to Hell. But watch out, Heaven isn’t better; there you’d just pray. The magic happens when the body with Inquisition airs loses steam and starts singing incense: a sacramental incense, ecstatic, with Marian apparitions, herbaceous, smoky, and grave. How beautiful when it joins the leather and isobutyl quinoline roll to create something like Greta Garbo, turning something impossible to wear into a spiritual, evocative, and difficult beauty, but ultimately a perfume. If Rien has any slight resinous aftertaste, it’s two tips of juniper or storax so you don’t feel like you’re wearing a hairshirt; the key is the mix of leather and incense, smoky, waxy, and imposing like a cathedral. In the dry down, the rose battles with the leather, creating a coloring wax of a sour, pasty divine sweetness. I recommend it with eyes closed. If you like this family, you’ll love it, and if it doesn’t make you laugh but you know how to appreciate a well-made perfume, you’ll have an entertaining time watching Archangel Michael slash at the devil. I loved it and find it difficult but with potential. P.S.: Longevity and projection are excellent. P.S. II: Ideal wearers: Philip II, Hernán Cortés, Teresa of Ávila, any historical figure from that dark and severe Spain, or Joan of Arc. P.S. III: Mix the old Cuir de Lancôme with Bandit by Piguet, add Cabochard and lots of Casbah by Piguet. Rien would be a more fearsome relative than all of them; the incense is more incense, the leather is more leather. P.S. IV: Mode on: I wish they would stop comparing any leather perfume to Knize Ten. The leather in Knize is talc-like and spiced with cloves, geraniums, and vanilla; it has nothing to do with isobutyl quinoline leathers that smell like a stable.

• Albertoso

  May 4, 2021

  

  Plastic finish. Totally agree; and it goes for most of ELDO, but Rein is the king. I didn’t like it at all. 🙁

• Gentil vagabond

  March 22, 2023

  

  A scent that takes me back to the past; I like leather… but there’s something I can’t handle. I feel that wearing a current scent with old-school nuances is dangerous, maybe it’s the aldehydes with that mineral touch, the iris with the incense… this fragrance is a dilemma I don’t want to decipher.

• konvulsion

  April 7, 2023

  

  Let me see if I can explain… I had a 2015 batch that smelled like a cathedral and Buddhist temple, it was a delight. This? No, and to make matters worse, it’s a dead ringer for Intense Incense without the rose. Problem: they’ve removed the leather and boosted the amber, leaving a ‘standard’ incense. I also feel that since then, the projection has dropped a bit, although that’s understandable due to IFRA.

• jerry drake

  June 14, 2023

  

  One of the few that has caused me rejection; I can’t wear it. Upon spraying a little, I feel surrounded by an aggressive cloud threatening to get out of control. I don’t know what I’d do if someone entered its orbit, but it worries me. However, I tried it again, surprised by its savagery, bravery, and cruelty. Like with extremes, I can’t stand it for long. If you want to smell like dirty aldehydes or an abandoned mechanic’s garage with oil and tar, burnt notes, synthetic and rubbery but dry and unsweetened, this is for you. It soon develops a scent of a subway tunnel, boiler room, machine oil, freshness, dryness, and rough leather, a cousin of the unpleasant Bogart One Man Show Oud Edition. In the end, a touch of burnt rubber and smoking tires becomes dominant. To wear it, you need zero sensitivity and a weakness for the extravagant. It’s bold and unique, perfect for wandering alone without causing unease. P.S.: I’ve worn 4 sprays and the longevity is notable; a family member asked if I was burning something through a cable. Fortunately, I bought a decant before jumping in blindly.

• Joloru

  December 11, 2023

  

  Upon trying it, I felt a floral touch with feminine nuances, and after several tests, I decided to buy it. Although incense should define it, I struggle to identify it. It transports me to Atlas cedar with its balsamic nuance and to a narcotic, animalic flower. It’s polarizing: you either love it or hate it. I find it excellent, different, mysterious, and magical. Although I don’t believe perfumes have a gender, it tends to be unisex with a feminine lean. Its intensity, diffusion, and longevity are notable, surpassing any other in my collection. It’s extremely distinctive and of undeniable quality.

• Joloru

  December 23, 2023

  

  The first spray felt like a soft, feminine floral touch, and after a few tests, I decided to buy it. While the incense should be the star, I struggle to detect it; what I do notice is Atlas cedar with its balsamic note, mixed with something narcotic-floral and animalic. It’s polarizing: you either love it or hate it. To me, it’s excellent, distinct, mysterious, and magical. Although perfumes have no gender, this leans unisex with a feminine inclination. Its intensity, projection, and longevity are remarkable, surpassing any other fragrance in my collection. It’s very distinctive, and its quality is undeniable.

• Vavi

  September 3, 2025

  

  I atomized it on my hand and before bringing it to my nose, the scent hit me in the face. It’s very strong and intense, even making my nose itch. The notes that stand out most are incense, cumin, and pepper. It definitely smells like a cathedral.

• Candycandy40

  November 15, 2025

  

  Definitely not for me. Upon spraying, it gives you a whiff in the face due to the potency. Animal incense, perhaps due to the cumin, which gives it a slightly fecal tone. You have to be very brave to wear it without expecting compliments. Since I’m a coward of the prairie, I’m not going to wear it and leave it to those seeking the risk.

• Candycandy40

  November 27, 2025

  

  Definitely not for me. Upon spraying, it delivers a nose-punch due to its potency. Animalic incense, I suppose from the cumin, which gives it a fecal tint. You have to be very brave to wear it without expecting compliments. Since I’m a coward, I won’t wear it and leave it to those who like taking risks.

• Sigismondi

  January 3, 2026

  

  Bestial incense power and scent. I liked it so much I sleep with an atomizer on the back of my hand. Difficult and overwhelming, but exquisite.

• Sigismondi

  January 26, 2026

  

  A fragrance with beastly power and an incense aroma. I’ve gotten so used to it that I like to sleep with a spray on the back of my hand: difficult and overwhelming, but exquisite.

• HACIVET

  February 14, 2026

  

  Nothing is like mixing all the colors and ending up with a dark gray, which I confirmed on the official website. It’s more than just a ‘baroque’ perfume. If it were music, it would be something like Black Midi with sheet music that looks like black smudges. Its name is ironic: it has everything but ends up smelling like nothing, and that’s where its artistic interest lies. The opening is dirty, with oxidized metallic notes and plastics, but soon a bitter green apple appears, like fermented cider. Incense and aldehydes dominate, creating an industrial soapy effect—spicy and virile, ideal for lovers of vintage masculine perfumery. Visually, it’s a green soap with ash specks. It has modest projection, intentionally designed for intimate wear. It’s not a tribute to the past, but a modern vision where everything is invented. I enjoy it a lot: perfect for days of male nihilism, with an ambiguous dirty cleanliness that leaves no answer for enemies. It’s not a ‘troll perfume’ like Secretions Magnifiques, but a strange mix of incense and aldehydes worth getting to know.

• Perfu_Manu

  February 22, 2026

  

  I went in the wrong direction, being a fan of Intense Incense, but tried this ‘straight up’ and smiled. It’s a clean, white floral, super aldehydic—the crystal-clear sibling of Kouros. I love it.

• HACIVET

  February 26, 2026

  

  Nothing is like mixing all the colors and coming out with a dark gray, just as the website confirms. It’s more than baroque. If it were music, it would be Black Midi with sheet music that looks like black smudges. Its name is ironic: it has everything but smells like nothing; that’s its art. The opening is dirty, oxidized metallic, and plastic, but soon a bitter green apple emerges, like fermented cider. Incense and aldehydes dominate, giving a spicy, virile, vintage industrial soap. Visually, it’s a green soap with ash specks. It compensates for its roughness with low projection, seeking intimacy. It’s not a tribute to the past, but a modern vision where everything is invented. I enjoy it for those days of male nihilism, with a dirty cleanliness that leaves no answer. It’s not a troll like Secretions Magnifiques; it’s incense and aldehydes, a rare mix worth it.