Futur
Robert Piguet (1967)

This is a weird one for me. The way I've wrapped my head around it is to visualize it as a halfway point between a 70's green perfume like Chanel No 19, and a very bitter patchouli-led chypre like Sagamore, even though this technically predates both of those. I really enjoy a classic green perfume, so I've tried hard to like Futur, but that bitterness is overwhelming to me, so I just can't seem to develop a love for it. Oh well.

We are stepping into the deepest of green with Futur, verdant, luxuriant, wafts of leaves, grass, milky sap, tree resins, and solar infusions on still waters.

It opens with neroli and galbanum, sharp and bracing, awakening the senses. It seeks to invigorate, and pulls you into its rampant lushness. This soon yields to more floral elements of green, but they do not steal the show. These florals are a supporting cast, they sing the praises of viridescence in the woods, shading and adding some contrast.

Misty undergrowth, foggy violet leaves, and woody pungency bring it all home. Definitely a variation on green that would be well appreciated by those who love Chanel No. 19 or Jacomo Silences.

I have the new Futur and vintage (original) Vent Vert, and find a lot of similarities that other reviewers have mentioned. Perhaps there is some of the great Germaine Cellier DNA in Futur. I have no idea if she had anything to do with the creation of the original Futur, or if the new version is true to the original. I also think there is a similarity to Caron's Infini - both 'space-age' greens.

Futur is the most challenging fragrance I own. I honestly don't know if I like it, but something keeps drawing me back to it. I love galbanum and green florals, but Futur’s opening is sharp and pungent, and after a few seconds there’s a dank, bitter vegetal accord that I haven’t encountered in any other green perfume. Maybe this is the leather others have mentioned, and Futur’s nod to Bandit.

I sprung for the 100ml bottle as I wouldn't be surprised if Futur were discontinued. I don't think there's a large market right now for scents like it, and it's definitely not a perfume I'm likely to smell on many other women today. It’s widely available at discounters for cheaper than any other Piguet, so that could be a sign it won't be around much longer. In any case, I'm looking forward to seeing how my relationship with it evolves, and holding out hope that I’ll love it some day.

Robert Piguet was a fashion designer whose perfumes eventually overshadowed his couture work, even if he is best known in that field for training Hubert de Givenchy and Christian Dior. Piguet as a perfume brand is legendary for bringing to prominence the butch leather-like isobutyl quinoline note in Bandit (1944) to women's perfume, which eventually saw its way through cross-gender use of Bandit and into masculine perfumery. Later on Fracas (1948) and Baghari (1950) would further cement Piguet as a prominent and inspirational perfume house to the point of the nameplate continuing on upon Robert's death in 1953. It's unkown if perfumer Germaine Cellier continued to compose for the Piguet brand after this period, but the house would see brief revival in the 60's with Cravache (1963) and this scent, Futur (1967). There's something to be said about the compositional style of Robert Piguet Futur, as it combines elements of what was then considered forward-thinking perfume notes in the women's market (namely green floral tones), with the smoker's lounge retro-chic of Bandit's leather core. The result of this mixture feels more like Futur really has one leg in the past, as if to say "don't forget where you came from" to the rest of the perfume world at the time, and was only on the market for seven years before being axed after Piguet fell further into obscurity, trading hands a few more times before re-emerging as a niche perfume brand. So what does this "days of future passed" chypre really represent in the 21st century? Well, the olfactive equivalent of the Seattle Monorail, or Disney's Epcot Center, an idealized future proved imperfect like so many obsolete concepts of anticipated progress.

The opening of Futur is where many people will scratch their heads, as out comes a very citric chypre opening, not totally unlike the concurrently-released Capucci pour Homme (1967) or the later Homme de Grès (1996). Notice how these are both masculine market releases, and so too the style of Futur would seem better-suited to the masculine palette these days for fans of the traditional chypre. Unlike classic examples such as Guerlain Mitsouko (1919), or even later ones like Chanel No. 19 (1971), there is no fruity introduction nor noticeably-floral heart to make this declare "for women" per the tastes of the day. Instead, the galbanum blends down with a melange of fleshy floral notes which do not present themselves openly. Daffodil and narcissus being oddly paired with violet and ylang-ylang in the heart, and the unconventional note of tamarix (a flowering dedacious bush used in desert reclaimation) drying out whatever bounce these flower choices may have had. The futurism of such a near-androdgynous mix is brought roughly a decade or so back in time once the base appears, lifted seemingly right from Bandit but made greener and more airy with prominent vetiver and cedar notes replacing the birch tar or animalics of castoreum and civet. However, this isn't to say that there is no animalic component, as the ISBQ leather, oakmoss, and earthy patchouli are still very much there. In some ways Futur is more complex and sophisticated than Bandit despite having less notes, but in other ways is also more elegant and to-the-point, being an easier wear in either case. Futur is very green and very much a chypre, making it a wear for spring through fall, but can be worn in milder winters too, proving very unisex despite the marketing. This scent has moderate sillage, mild projection, and lasts 8 hours on my skin.

Where to use Futur might be a bit trickier than when, since this is still very much a leathery fragrance but spared some of the black shiny BDSM appeal of Bandit by focusing more on the chypre accord than the leather accord, which again makes it feel more like something a mid-century man would match with a tweed jacket than a woman with a black dress. Still, chypre fans of all walks should be delighted that Futur was resurrected in 2009 by a renewed house of Robert Piguet, and is in fine enough form to recommend, even if vintage purists may want to automatically assume it as inferior drivel and blow fat stacks of cash on securing a quite-rare original-run bottle made between 1967-1974. Whatever helps you sleep at night is what I always say about people who obstinantly chase unicorns over the rainbow bridge, but I admit that at least knowing the vintage if not owning it is the best way to get a fun snapshot into the late space-race futurism of the mid 20th century as it trickled down into household technologies, media, fashion, and art like this perfume. I also recommend this to people who find the animalic or leathery aspects of Bandit to be a bit much and want something more versatile while not sacrificing the aesthetic appeal of a leather perfume. Whatever version you happen to find, expect a very green and aromatic woody/leather experience that sits right up there with the butch femme greats like Cabochard de Grès (1959) and Miss Dior [Originale] (1947). Robert Piguet Futur is not exactly the house of the future we were all promised in the old film reel cartoons of the 1950's, but I'll take it. Thumbs up.

Top notes remind me of aldehydes. Perfection, in the blend of galbanum, hyacinth, and narcissus. The opening of future reminds me of a Chanel, I enjoy.

Violet and jasmine arrive. Ylang ylang is very bright and floral-y. Later, I smell vetiver, then patchouli. Violet sticks around.

I love that this began rather intense then settled into a gentle calm. Very nice!