Futuros
Aubusson (1987)

Futuros by Aubusson (1987) was the first men's fragrance by the house of Aubusson. Not much is known about the brand aside from the many things in France which also bear the name, including a village and a type of tapestry, What I can say is Aubusson firmly remained a C-tier list label for perfume, under B-listers like Azzaro or Ted Lapidus, themselves a peg down from the haute couture brands like Chanel or Dior. Being that far down the totem pole means your stuff does not get TV commercials or product placement in major department stores, so the bottles themselves had to be extra eye-catching when sitting in high street shops or mall kiosks that sold perfume in the 80's, a play taken straight out of Avon's catalog sales techniques where the bottles did the talking in the form of pictures in magazines like Time or National Geographic. Perhaps then that explains the rather Art-Deco bottle, which was something coming back into vogue in a decade where "more was more" and everyone was living on credit, but Futuros didn't exactly picture in scent the same sort of maximalism that the bottle and naming suggests.

The smell of this is rather quite conventional, and in a vein that not ironically other C-tier brands had also tried, like Revillon French Line (1984) and the on-life-support house of Balenciaga via Jacques Bogart called Ho Hang Club by Balenciaga (1987), which might have been a mod from the same brief with their similarity. As such, expect a carnation leather and patchouli scent with a "black cherry" sort of nuance up top that leads down into spices and a chypre base softened with tonka, yet still quite woody. The big difference between Futuros and something like Ho Hang Club is the near-lack of animalics, with little animalis or civet notes playing around here, the sourness coming mostly from the pyralone accord, and a drier spice combination that met with the moss and what I gather to be cedar (usually a species of juniper wood playing as cedar in this era before huge Iso E doses). Ultimately, this is surprisingly "fresh" for a carnation-lead chypre of this type, not overly musty or mossy, musky or sweet, and not in the same order as something else in the style. This stuff is sort of the Halston 112 (1976) to Ho Hang Club's Halston Z-14 (1976), if that makes sense. This is the quiet sibling.

The ultimate fate of Futuros was likely that of many other B and C-tier brands that were either designer or licensed property houses manufactured by this or that oil house under contract, in that it went straight to duty-free shops in airports where those snazzy or borderline tacky bottles would catch travelers off guard and garner some impulse sales; these became the kinds of fragrances that would only get their due decades later once obsessed online hobbyists caught in a nostalgia death-loop would discover them through a taste-maker with a forum presence or YouTube channel, then find them cheap (for a time) on eBay or other marketplace sites. The histrionic proclamations of "masterpiece" and "real man's cologne" would get unfairly tacked onto Futuros for giving people who weren't there a glimpse into a past they were too young to know, imagining a world where everyone wore Futuros while blaring Huey Lewis through their Onkyo receivers while doing lines of cocaine off Tawny Kitaen's thigh's (David Coverdale might object to that). The reality is this was just a bit too sedate and fresh to compete with the powerhouses, and a bit too hirsute to hang with the coming aquatics. In the rear-view mirror of your IROC, this feels just right. Thumbs up

I love when a fragrance can be so absurdly charming like Futuros. Let's face it: this one wasn't exactly sold at the counter of a Neiman-Marcus. Parfums Daniel Aubusson broke on the scene with 1984's Histoire D'Amour, which received its own cult-status, but its second release three years later seemed destined to be regarded as more of an adolescent novelty. The bottle itself for some reason reminds me of a motion picture released the same year, Batteries Not Included, looking as if it would be the home base of the Fix-Its.

Rather than be relegated to recesses of rack stores and Ebay deadstock sales until it faded into complete obscurity, Futuros has found newfound appreciation from fragheads on the hunt for oakmoss-heavy yesterday men's scents. This cognoscenti recalls a "simpler" pre-IFRA-restriction age of traditional values, when "men were men" and all that other rose-colored, myopic garbage. Yet, the fragrances that are elevated by this sect often are deserving of more examination than just precious clutching and waxing poetic.

Futuros is a compact cinnamon-clove-spicy, warm green, and somewhat sweet chypre that would dominate men's frags in the late 80s to as late as 1992 (see Aubusson Homme). There is a strong sensation of tarragon as well, which makes for a great lead-in to the dusky, smoky, oak-moss heavy base. The quality of the fragrance belies the quirks of external appearance: it is a mellow, yet persistent hum, lacking the coarseness of some of its contemporaries. I actually rather prefer it over another curiosity-turned-cult-fave, Balenciaga Pour Homme, which to me seems like a leftover mod from the Futuros drafts.

FUTROS is a wonderful, fresh, warm fragrance. I found one on Ebay and loved it. And then was lucky enough to find someone selling over a dozen brand new bottles. If you enjoy a really fine, subtle yet lasting, warm and unique scent...try this one... if you find it on the net. I think you'll love it. 6-05-04