Bon Monsieur
Rogue Perfumery (2020)

Bon Monsieur is not a creative perfume. At least, not inside the genre from which it springs. Its title tells the story—not quite phatic, but something you offer when earnestness is actually due: “Thank you, good sir.” A courteous formality already undercut by shared intimacy, or at least the recognition that such formality is performative. In this sense, it's neither pure nostalgia nor parody. It's honest, but that honesty is not merely revivalist banality or false humility. It's something more strangely brave—a faintly effete, mutual acknowledgment of the devil in every room: symbolic castration.

Then we get repetition with a difference, a Hegelian bone caught in the throat, or something like Deleuzian recurrence, where the past persists as pure misidentified negation—a queer anti-mistake, a refusal of bland genealogical generativity—and is made newly functional within the shifting contours of the impossibly parallax “self.” Bon Monsieur doesn't aspire to be Drakkar Noir, Tsar, or Bois de Portugal. It rejects a place within that lineage and offers instead a “crisp, green masculinity” stripped of any naïve confidence—masculinity as form without belief.

Das Man after the fallen phallus of Babel: it is clear that Bon Monsieur is in dialogue with the well-populated crowd of the old guard—the perfumes mentioned above, but also vetiver-and-tonka/vanilla bombs like Lalique pour Homme Lion or New York Intense. But this is purely archeological. In nearly all, there is the same backbone: fuzzy moss and sandalwood, virtue in freshness, and a wink toward a clean character. Bon Monsieur doesn't attempt to translate their excess, their chatter (whether pine, resin, elevated lavender, or bright bergamot—whatever the particular instance or clade may yield). It documents instead the aftermath—the fracture of history itself. There is no nightmare from which to awake. Lucky for us.

Rogue’s version of “this is a man” feels softer and more ecological (indie jobs can do this well). Lavender and oakmoss are the stars here, and they are really good. We don't get sweaty herbs to reify some ideology of pheromonal acquisitiveness, no armpit patchouli or jockstrap musk in the base to signal confidence wilting under anxiety, no overdose of fluffy coumarin or tonka sweetness to stage a theatrical “soft side.” Just citrus, mildly peppery geranium, mossy greenness, a faintly soapy floral heart, and a smooth cedar–sandalwood base. The signature Rogue pine appears in the drydown, but even that is subdued.

This perfume is an achievement. It yokes itself to an overdetermined masculine form and rides into admirable neutrality, pulling the composition just outside of history while leaving the grammar and memory intact. Ultimately, it's a quiet reanimation of the materials, if not entirely the structure, of belief.

Rogue’s catalogue includes several attempts at this alchemy—Targhee Forest, Mousse Illuminée, for instance—but none approach the peculiar nobility here. It's an ideological Edelgas: inert, self-composed, strangely aloof. You might call it catlike, and for that reason, ideal.

Original formula Speed Stick men’s deodorant, back when it was that weird emerald color gel that stayed in stick form. Yep, this is that.

Except better, obviously. Much better. While the opening of Bon Monsieur took me down the memory lane of my father’s old toiletries, the rest of it doesn’t smell anything like that men’s bargain deodorant. This is a straight-up old school barbershop fougere with a new lick of high gloss paint. The florals are restrained in favor of the oakmoss and wood notes, which dominate the majority of the perfume’s life. The lavender is also more restrained than I thought it would be. The point of barbershop fougeres is to smell “clean” after your trip to the barber, and lavender’s herbal soapy character has been serving that purpose without fail for a very long time. Its lower voice in Bon Monsieur means that this fougere has a less “clean” quality than what we’re used to for the genre. The greater amplification of damp and earthy moss, cedar, and sandalwood actually gives this fougere a bit of a dirty character. Though, when I say dirty I mean the equivalent of a smudge on the kitchen counter versus a squeaky-clean shine.

And that’s really about it. Simple stuff that smells simple, wears simple, and simply smells good. Rogue has taken the barbershop fougere off of the old tube tv and upscaled it to 4k, and it looks pretty darn good.

It's a barbershop right? I'm sure it's great for fans of the style, a bit wet for my taste but it really leans transparent and has something to do with azzaro pour homme and gucci nobile, but I've been thinking about those a lot lately. Super clean and put together, could definitely wear it anywhere

Having tried and failed to obtain a sample of Bon Monsieur, I bit the bullet and bought a bottle from the excellent Slickboys web site in their Black Friday sale. I'm glad I did.

Testing on paper reveals a bergamot note when sniffing around the atomiser. The paper itself reveals, first and most of all, a strong evergreen / fir note. This reaches "Radox" levels, for those familiar with the UK bath soak brand, at and this point some doubt creeps in. Soon, though, a lavender accord joined the party, and later in the day the strip dried down with oakmoss and a touch of woods and musk. Testing on skin is a similar experience although the freshness remains for longer and the musky drydown takes more time to appear.

A few points: for me BM has more of an edge than housemate Fougere l'Aube, and is all round a better scent. Part of this is personal preference, of course, as the Cool Water end of the fougere spectrum does not really appeal. (Fougere l'Aube gets around this with sheer quality and the excellent drydown.)

More pointedly: BM for me hits the mark more or less in the centre as a fougere of classic influences with a few modern appointments. It is still easily detectable on skin after a good 14 hours of wear. It never takes over like the fougeres of yore, making it eminently suitable for office wear. I'm nonplussed to see price or value for money brought into the equation here. My Black Friday price was 79GBP for 50ml. Bear in mind the sketchy UK availability, the import costs, the fact that Turin & Sanchez talk about the $100 cartel-style minimum pricing for anything of quality nowadays, and BM becomes a good value proposition. This could easily be second-bottle-worthy. Time will tell.

Bon Monsieur is quickly becoming one of my favourite scents. Oakmoss and lavender dominate the smell, reminds me of a cross between the oakmoss driven Paco Rabanne pour homme and the lavender driven vibe of Duc de Vervins or Drakkar Noir. If you like any of those scents this one is an absolute must smell

I can describe this one in a few words... soapy, green, pine, old school. As usual, the oakmoss is very nice in this gem. Really like what they did with this one. They kept it simple but very good. 7.5/10