En Passant by Frederic Malle

"I started to feel that the bottle itself was holding back my unfulfilled feelings and desires. So, I began wearing it randomly."

En Passant by Frederic Malle

(Fragrantica, Frederic Malle)

Pure lilacs, just harvested. Broken green stems still wet. It’s mid-May, my mother’s birthday, and I carry an armful home, leaving them in a full bath to drink deeply. It’s hard to believe something so elusive could be captured in a bottle, yet French perfumer Olivia Giacobetti has done it with En Passant for Frederic Malle with just four notes: lilac, cucumber, white musk, and cedar (invisible for me). When I first encountered it, I smelled the tension between the fleeting nature of lilacs and the strong desire to grasp onto them. It reminds me of the moment when your senses come back to life after long days of hibernation.

I received En Passant as a gift for my birthday in 2020, during the lonely Covid summer. A hopeless romantic with an idealized vision of relationships, I kept it for someone I hadn’t met yet, someone special, for whom I would create delightful, intimate moments. I imagined wearing it for someone with exquisite taste, someone who would appreciate its simplicity and subtlety, someone with a keen nose touching my lilac ears, сollarbone and wrists. That was when I first read a review that said a woman who wears this fragrance always seems to be a bit of a fairy. I wanted to be a fairy, too. But I rarely wore it, only opening the bottle to inhale lilacs during dark winter days. Over time, the scent became fuller, like a lilac bush in bloom before a late spring thunderstorm: sweet, heady, almost overwhelming. What once seemed light and transparent became rich and dense. I started to feel that the bottle itself was holding back my unfulfilled feelings and desires. Keeping it so precious felt both special and dangerous, like wanting to stare at lilacs forever. So, I began wearing it randomly.

Now, I prefer it on warm winter and early spring days, when the air is fresh and cool after the rain. The musk note keeps the fragrance from being too lush, adding a slight dustiness; a texture to ground its airiness. I once thought En Passant belonged to silk and light dresses, but I prefer it with heavier fabrics. It pairs well with dark clothing, contrasting the crystalline ephemerality of the scent. Lately, I’ve been wearing it with my black mohair turtleneck. Covering my nose, I let the scent perform a sacred dance around my neck, in the hidden space between skin and wool, tickling and whispering; giving me solace. It lingers better on paper and fabric. On skin, it fades quickly but then suddenly reappears, and for a few seconds, I remember what it feels like to be in love. Not with someone. Not even with life itself. Just in being in it.

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Sofia is a fashion researcher and writer living in London (she was also this year’s first guest). Read the March edition of her year-long newsletter, Constellation of the Body, here.