I have a problem—well, I have many problems. One of them is that if a company’s branding is “too good” I instantly acquire an aversion to them. I’m like: why is your branding so good? What are you hiding? Another problem is that I hate booky things where people are like: here’s something for book lovers who love books. A third thing is that I have a conflicted relationship with the “millennial twee” aesthetic of the 2010s (embodied above by Zooey Deschanel). I’m typing these words in a polka-dot blouse, I wear Mary Jane shoes and own Fluevogs, I possess not only a sweater with an animal on it but also a (different) sweater from Kate Spade,1 I’ll never give up my bangs, and I own two separate lipsticks from Besame. I even own a ukelele (though I cannot play it).
Furthermore, you know, I am proud millennial; if I ever tried to do a podcast again2 I would probably call it “Millennial Excellence.”3 However, there’s millennial twee (good) and there’s millennial twee (evil). Zooey is unimpeachable, obviously. But then there’s stuff like books titled The Sophisticated Ladies’ Compleat Guide To The Hunting Of Dragons or fake curse words like crumplestuffin or that brand that embroiders, like, lyrics from Hamilton onto cashmere sweaters that cost $300.4 This too is the long dark shadow of millennial twee.
So both of these brands deliberately court a tweeness which I find ambiguous. The conceit of Imaginary Authors is that each perfume represents a book that doesn’t exist by an author who doesn’t exist. The pick-what-you-want discovery sample set comes in a box shaped like a book with a magnetic closure. The books all come with little summaries; here is one for “The Soft Lawn” (which is not one I tried):
Published in 1916, The Soft Lawn is a controversial portrait of adolescent upper-class rebellion in New England. The coming-of-age story follows a charmingly snotty college tennis champ who, after years of having everything handed to him on a silver platter, finds himself handing it all back. His selfless acts of altruism anger his family but catch the eye of a budding poet, setting in motion a secret romance that challenges the decorum of the well-to-do community. Shots are cooly volleyed back and forth but as tension rises, it becomes clear that only one side can triumph in the end.
In short, every level of their branding is so consistent and thought through and full of small details that I start to get pissed off.5
Then there’s TikTok favorite Sorce, formerly Sorcellerie Apothecary. Their branding is much more lowkey than Imaginary Authors’, but if you look at the name “Sorcellerie Apothecary” with the knowledge that one of their perfumes is named “Fuckery,” another one is called “English Major,” and their brand is witchy, you will understand why I was reluctant to try their perfumes at first. If you’re like “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I think you need help” I’m happy for you but I will not get help I’m going to stay exactly like this.
Let it be known though, that if you think I’m being snide about an indie aesthetic or something, the absolute worst names on the “evil twee” side of things that I’ve personally come across is probably Kilian’s “I Don’t Need A Prince By My Side To Be A Princess.” 50 mL of that will cost you $150. 50 mL of Sorce will cost about $50 less. Support artisanal twee. Also, I prefer millennial twee to the millennial minimalism of Le Labo, another company whose highly thought through branding pisses me off.
Since I had similar reservations about both brands, I decided to combine them, even though that made this post “too long for email.”
What I Loved
The Bees (Sorce)
(Fragrantica / Parfumo / Basenotes)
Honey extract, myrrh, jasmine absolute, pollen, iris, mimosa absolute, fresh cream, cedar, petrichor
I underestimated this one. When I spritzed it on I was like “that’s nice” but a few seconds later I began to really smell it. “The Bees” is a very intense honey-jasmine-mimosa smell. A little too intense for me, honestly—it sort of felt like I was literally and not figuratively drowning in luxury.
I’m not sure I’d buy it, because it’s just really a lot, but it kept surprising me through my wearing of it and new facets kept coming out, like the cedar.