The Peradam
Apoteker Tepe (2015)

The Peradam by Apoteker Tepe is inimitable in my perfume experience. I won’t be making comparisons in this review, because I don’t have any. It is rather simple, with just a few inputs listed by the brand, and I think the essences of all of these come through clearly while lending coherence to the overall composition in a way that fits both the name and the brief for the perfume.

The Peradam is relatively linear on my skin, with one noticeable development I’ll mention below. That linearity, however, is stunningly bright and unique. It smells like waxy jasmine grandiflorum (almost honeyed and crystalline in its clarity) and massive, buttered musk from Madonna lily, while slivers of sharp green stab like the shock of snapped petioles. There are also peaty and alkaline-dry earth elements alike, perhaps sloshed by a brief but violent summer rain. Others talk about an “aquatic” element here, which I don’t directly get, but maybe this wet earthiness is what they mean.

Then there’s the orris butter. I don’t experience it as fully isolated, but it works with the almondy, buttery aspects of the florals—particularly the lily, I assume—to flesh out the heart of the perfume in a way that recalls perfectly proofed dough: not too tart, not teeming with excess acid in a room far too warm for the ferment, but creamy and musky, with just enough tang and fruity yeast to remind you of tepid, only lightly hopped beer. The base sandalwood is less of a character for me, though I presume it works with the creaminess of the florals to smooth the perfume from the inside out.

After about an hour of wear, I get a pronounced and exquisitely subtle musky smoke, which may also be an interaction between the iris and the sandalwood. This marks the final transition of the scent into a floral, smoky skin scent for the last three hours or so. Total wear is usually around five hours, with notable projection for the first hour, followed by a light, suede-like smoky florality lingering on skin.

No one I’ve ever shared this perfume with has said anything other than “Whoa,” or, “That doesn’t smell like perfume.” I’ve clarified that they don’t mean it smells bad—just unlike anything they’re familiar with.

This is one of my favorite perfumes I’ve come across, but I rarely wear it. Like all Apoteker Tepe, it’s about $4/ml, which is dear indeed. I can’t recommend it as a must-own because of the expense and the concomitant lack of probable utility—most of us don’t wear such expensive perfume often (thus it gets a "Neutral" from me based on practicality). I do, however, think it is well worth sampling directly from the brand, at the very least, and cherishing this strange and remarkable—if obscure—blip in the history of the art of perfumery.

The Peradam is perhaps the prettiest of Apoteker Tepe's perfumes. The opening of cold and rooty iris has a distinct aquatic feel to it. This iris is soaking wet. In all of the AP perfumes I've tried, which is now all of them after wearing The Peradam, every accord within every stage of every perfume's life is airy, diffusive, and highly breathable. The iris accord at the opening of Peradam, relatively speaking to most other perfumes featuring an iris accord, is airy, diffusive, and breathable but less so than nearly all of the other accords in all other Apoteker's perfumes. The elastic and almost impenetrable feeling of the wetness is palpable. The dry down to the heart notes brings a texture far more familiar and similar to the textures Saltz gave us in nearly every other AT perfume via white cloud wafts of jasmine and muguet filled with the golden light of day. The heart is gorgeous. Once this dry down hit, I let out an involuntary sigh of euphoria. The white florals are rich and photorealistic, like the smell of a bouquet of jasmine and muguet on a cool breeze. The final skin scent is a similarly light and airy amalgam of sandalwood and tree moss; milky, woody, slightly green and earthy.

In the press blurb is a quote from Rene Daumal: "One finds here, very rarely in the low lying areas, more frequently as one goes farther up, a clear and extremely hard stone that is spherical and varies in size—a kind of crystal, but a curved crystal, something extraordinary and unknown on the rest of the planet. Among the French of Port-des-Singes, it is called peradam. The clarity of this stone is so great and its index of refraction so close to that of air that, despite the crystal’s great density, the unaccustomed eye hardly perceives it. But to anyone who seeks it with sincere desire and true need, it reveals itself by its sudden sparkle, like that of dewdrops." I can't say anything more any better. The Peradam is gorgeous.

Initially, a smell like wet cardboard. This quickly burns off somewhat, though it lingers in the background for a while. The exotic note of jasmine appears, with a bit of cool metallic edge perhaps due to the silvery iris. There is an interesting earthy note, perhaps it is the lily. The sandalwood is muted. For me, the scent is interesting but I don't share in the rave reviews.

Ineffable beauty

There are some scents that are so beautiful and moving, you can only grasp at metaphors that border on the histrionic. At first, The Peradam struck me speechless. I could have said it has a heart of orris like French butter kissing sandalwood, shrouded in a veil of ghostly jasmine, but this does not capture it at all. I'm afraid I still can't think of another way to describe it except "anointing oneself with the tears of a long suffering god."

A stunning, compelling scent. For me it is an animalic iris sandalwood, the lily isn't very prominent or long-lasting on my skin. Truly unique, and sadly discontinued. The whole Apoteker Tepe line was very interesting and original, I feel lucky to own four of the scents.

BLUF: Lily and orris done to near perfection. Earthy, animalic, breathtaking, unisex floral/woody. Would run into a burning building to save. About 1.5% of perfumes I've rated on Basenotes get five stars. The Peradam is one of them.

I think this is an outstanding, one-of-a-kind fragrance. When I first tried it in 2016, it was one of the handful of times where upon first sniff, I was utterly moved and left speechless. The Peradam has the distinction of being able to do that to me time and time again. It's easy to be wowed the first time you try something. Not as easy to happen on the twentieth. It isn't 'pretty' but bewitching nonetheless.

It opens with a blast of realistic white lily, stem and all (true lily, genus lilium - not lily of the valley), paired with a dense, doughy, unapologetically stark orris root. It smells gray/white to me. This is where most of the floral animalism lies, considering the realism of the lily note. That 'imperfect' narcotic intensity is what I love about lily. There's jasmine here too, rounding and filling out the earthy floral space...although this floralcy is so distinctive and uncommon, using the word 'floral' is misleading, but it's the best I can do.

The lily mellows and becomes enveloped by the orris and vaguely sandalwoody base. Although not listed, to me the backbone seems also to be comprised of smidgen of vetiver and/or costus. In a way it is rather linear, in that the opening and drydown aren't all that different, but the orris is so multifaceted that it is never a boring ride.

An impressive display of skill and the imagination to do something original with orris butter, creating an atmosphere of earthy/rooty floral smells that is more environment than perfume. Not surprising, considering this is dosed with a healthy amount of natural materials.

I don't have a lot of regrets in my perfumed life, but I do wish I made more of an effort to shine a light on Apoteker Tepe, which is sadly defunct as of March 2018. I'd say "must sample for any fans of orris" but that'd just be cruel.

I'm hoping the love from Turin & Sanchez and accompanying (albeit small) resurgence in interest might nudge perfumer/proprietor Holladay Saltz to reboot the house. Probably not, but one can hope.