Scent Bombs & Other Disruptions | Charenton Macerations

If you’re anything like me, when you hear the word disruption, you probably think of something meant to interfere with your day (i.e. a stalled subway making you late, or a hyperactive child screaming for attention). There is a certain negative bias to the word. However, as I was reminded throughout the time I spent on Asphalt Rainbow, to disrupt isn’t necessarily to wreak havoc on everything around you. You do not need to interrupt to disrupt. Disruption is simply to break an expected pattern, like a “what-the” moment,” and does not need to prevent you from carrying on with your day. Sometimes if you disrupt too much, you defeat your own message. To better understand the distinction, think about disrupting the normal path of a river to redirect the water to allow for surrounding life to flourish.

Throughout this project, I felt it was important to look at disruption from two angles. The first angle explored how a street art tag disrupts when it is introduced into an outdoor, public space (see Fragrance: The Original Disruptive Art?). The second aspect of disruption deals more with an artist’s intent, and conversations about why they choose to disrupt. What is it drawing them into this world of street art? While everyone’s answers were slightly different, or involved a type of maturing from one impulse to another, I managed to distilled everything I heard into five general drives for disruption. I then began comparing each to how and why we create and use fragrance. The results, I believe, offer an interesting window not only into the thought process that goes into our personal fragrance choices, but also helps nicely segment the core brand identities of those making scented products. So why do street artists disrupt?

To be noticed

I think one of more insulting characterizations of street artists is that they are just a motley crew of anarchists, thrill seekers, and narcissists; just a bunch of troublemakers destroying public property in the name of personal vanity. For me, this is an image derived from the anti-graffiti propaganda campaigns of the 1980’s meant to justify the criminalization of art and free speech. But I’ll be fair. There is always a little bit of the desire to be noticed present in any work of art (we call that the artist’s voice). And in this case, you may have people literally imprinting their signatures wherever they go. But remember, people have been writing their names on walls since the dawn of man (hello Alexander the Great), and for me, this is something that cannot be ignored. At the end of the day, it’s okay that you want people to know your name now, but be careful; it’s the why and how that might get you into trouble on your path to be recognized. Know thyself. Disrupt with purpose.

To beautify

Just look at some of the locations where you generally find an abundance of street art. It’s mostly a laundry list of dilapidated structures and depressed environments, oftentimes inhabited by those forgotten or neglected by society (both buildings and people). In some cases, these can be some pretty rough neighborhoods. In others, they are like cracks in the urban landscape separating the rich and poor… the fault lines of gentrification. Here the desire to add art to the horizons may be to offer a possible point of departure from the grim realities of the every day. Or to help improve these areas, breathing new colorful life into old decaying infrastructures. Disrupt with glamour.

To call attention to […]

Similar to the impulse to beautify, when an artist seeks to call attention with disruption, they are actively directing you to a specific place they feel should be noticed through their work. Think Banksy in Jerusalem (or even just Banksy in general). There is something right here, right now, that you need to see. Stopping short of imposing their own opinions on the situation, in these examples, an artist is simply asking you to pause and consider the situation. To stop and think. (And possibly to memorialize.) Disrupt to point out.

To speak out against […]

Classism, ageism, sexism, racism, homophobia… taking that next step from just calling attention to something to actively expressing an opinion on the matter, here an artists moves to producing a campaign that offers up street propaganda as a form of resistance. Tags act as a form of civil disobedience in protest of societal wrongs. The artist’s voice must be heard for the sake of justice… doing what they do to help make things right with the world. This form of disruption has roots in things like labor union leaflets, or the 80’s ACT-UP campaigns meant to raise awareness about HIV and AIDS. Disrupt to rebel.

To give back to […]

Perhaps the most inspirational thing I was privileged to be a part of during my time helping to disrupt the streets of the world was this very real sense of community I entered into. For many of these artists, new families and new horizons have grown from the work that they did (and continue to do). Continuing to give back to that community through art is to show respect for where they came from, as well to preserve the legacy that began on (and from within) those walls. Disrupt for love.

Returning to fragrance, it’s fascinating how the impulses driving street artists to disrupt overlap with the disruptive ways in which we use and process olfactive stimuli. That, and the brands we seem to remember most successfully do all five. Seeing that man has always been a rather smelly creature, there are some great examples of how fragrance has be used to disrupt to be found throughout our history: a cornucopia of scent bombs and perfumed persuasions. Below are just some of the more memorable examples I’ve plucked from stories of the darker side of disruptive olfaction. Feel free to add any of your favorites in the comments below.

I smell danger

It’s that classic moment when a dog’s ears shoot up… the belly drops defensively… the teeth are exposed… Sparky has just been spooked by something he sniffed, setting off his fight or flight reflexes. In our world, no scent more universally triggers that sense of “danger is afoot” than the smell of fire. It will disrupt almost any situation demanding inspection. And as for fear… well, we each have those smells that just send chills up our spines. I’m not going to tell you mine for fear you might make me smell it some day.

Wiping feces and marking your territory

Back to our friend Sparky. You may notice Sparky likes to pee on certain trees and corners to mark his territory. Here he is letting others know that this is his spot, or he was here, using a form of olfactive disruption. He may also be leaving a reminder that something is here. While man has thankfully stopped using urination as a form of ownership (how do you feel about those aerosol cans now?), there instead are a surprising number of examples in history of people rubbing excrement on the walls of their enemies, as if to commit the highest insult. Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “you little stinker.”

Sniffing out plague and the smells of sickness

If you’ve read Annick Le Guérer’s brilliant book, “Scent: The Mysterious and Essential Powers of Smell,” you’re already well versed in the smells of disease and pestilence. If you haven’t, I highly recommend picking it up for a great crash course in smell history. In short, imagine a time when perfumers were hired to bomb out buildings with clean smells, and some men wore pointy long-nosed plague masks to better sniff out decaying bodies and vermin. What if I now told you that during my research into life on Christopher Street I came across at least two instances of people suspecting the use of plague and disease smells to purposely drive down property values, or to help encourage tenant abandonment. A few rotten animal corpses here, some maggots and rancid food there… and in one case, deliberately housing TB sufferers to spread infection just to force an owner to sell. These are the smells of my nightmares.

Rioting and rebellion

Speaking of Christopher Street, thanks to my time researching the Stonewall Riots of ’69, I now feel pretty comfortable discussing the scents of rebellion, especially when comparing it with parallel stories from the French Revolution days of the Marquis de Sade. Surrounding smells couple with anger and frustration as tensions clash. And as the scene unfolds, things like gas, smoke, and gunpowder invade the normal aromas of the neighborhood, tying it all back together with a bow of adrenaline… and alcohol. For some reasons, when tensions rise, booze is never hard to find. Perhaps it was the catalyst for disruption in the first place.

The scent of war (and the war of scents)

When I was a senior in high school, one of our final projects involved putting together a collection of stories from a group of WWII veterans called “Silent Heroes Among Us.” During those interviews, I’ll never forget the way these men described the scents of war, and how deeply those memories were embedded into their psyches. Because of it, I often wonder how our reactions to films like “Saving Private Ryan,” “Platoon,” or “Full Metal Jacket” might change if we were inundated in the real scents of war. Equally of interest to me is the fact that militaries across the globe engage in some form of olfactive research. Fuck the debate between naturals and synthetics, I’m more concerned about weaponized perfumes.

Debauchery, prostitution, and the odors of sex

How appropriate to end with an example from the life and times of Sade. When you’ve finished Le Guérer’s book, I highly suggest moving on to Barbara Herman’s “Scent & Subversion: Decoding a Century of Provocative Perfumes” for an amazing collection from the tales of sex and provocation inside the world of fragrance. As you track the structural changes in fragrance formulation over the decades (i.e. the proliferation of sheerer scents, the diminishing appearance of animal notes, food notes used as substitutes for sexual odors), there is a moment to ask if perhaps these changes are not just a remnant of that Victorian desire to “purify”by systematically separating the usage of “fine fragrance” from the perfumed petticoats of the prostitutes from Paris.

And what exactly went on inside these dens of sin? How were these olfactive devils being unleashed? Well, in Sade’s case, it involved breaking wind in his face. That’s right, of the many things the man was guilty of doing, the Marquis is known to have paid women to fart in his face. Candies laced with spanish fly and laxative were offered to those he hired to help… um… loosen things up so to speak, but it was known to be a particular favorite fetish of his. Our ancestors clearly had a less Puritanical appreciation for the scents of the body than us. So remember, the next a silent friend sneaks into the room with you, it isn’t offensive and gross; it’s just someone trying to flirt with you. Clearly, you’ve just misunderstood.