The Legend by George Paul Chalmers

Men went to Catraeth, mead-nourished,

Sturdy and strong, it would be wrong should I not praise them.

Amid blood-red blades in dark-blue sockets,

The war-hounds fought fiercely, tight formation.

Of the war-band of Brennych, I would have thought it a burden,

to leave any in the shape of a man alive.

A friend I have lost; faithful I was.

Swift in the struggle, it grieves me to leave him.

The brave one desired no father-in-law’s dowry,

The son of Cian from Maen Gwyngwn.

DS & Durga, a young couple from good ol' Brooklyn, New York, are unquestionably hip. My questionable hipness makes me wonder if people even still say the word "hip." Nevertheless, whether they know it or not (which makes them even more hip), their unique style is unabashedly chic, yet unapologetically sincere. David Seth (DS) and his wife, Kavi (Durga) Moltz have juxtaposed the progressive uber-coolism of Brooklyn with the austere sepia-hued landscape of pre-industrial America, Americana, folklore and world history. Flatbush meets the frontier.  

D.S and Durga

I've always been a fan of their work. I spend summers lingering in Cowboy Grass; I've filled boardrooms and cigar bars with Burning Barbershop; and I've basked in the rich textures of their homage to the string section, Bowmakers. Small, hand-made batches of DS & Durga's perfumes and colognes make their way from a small Brooklyn apartment to small specialty shops from sea to shining sea. When I heard that David was producing a new line to be launched at Barney's New York, I wondered if their Heartland-hipster ideology would mesh with the upscale taste of the Madison Avenue crowd. I further wondered if David would stay true to his (well, our) roots.

This time, Mr. Moltz leaves the vast plains of the American Heartland and takes us to the medieval landscape of early Northern European cultures with a trio of new perfumes inspired by the Celtic, Norse, Orcadian, Scotti, Celtic, Pict, Manx, and Angle legends that rise from the mist in "the land of the Gaels." With the distant drone of a great Irish warpipe, we present HYLNDS.  

Scottish Highlands by Gustave Dore

Bitter Rose, Broken Spear

"Y Gododdin", an ancient Welsh poem, lays the battlefield for the first of the HYLNDS creations: Bitter Rose, Broken Spear. The brilliantly-descriptive ad copy which accompanies this fragrance speaks of "red branch nights, proud chiefs in wool, faded dyes, rowan berry, bitter rose, hunt in wood-of-wonders, melancholy thistle, for feasts, water-of-life, Caeawg’s amber wreath, smelted iron, wine-in-horn, now broken spear and empty hills."

I know some balk at a list of notes which includes accords such as "smelted iron," but I'm a sucker for this kind of olfactory exploration. Synthetic or suggestive, the inclusion of these notes, or notions, forwards the lyrical narrative — a key concept in composing a fragrance based on folklore. What's more imaginative: cedar wood or "wood-of-wonders?" 

So what does Bitter Rose, Broken Spear smell like? Well, this one may be the most challenging in the line in terms of accessibility. It appears as though Mr. Moltz has not been swayed by the fact that his creations are now sitting on spot-lit shelves beside the Chanels and Frederic Malles. He brings us a mysterious brew of bitter greens and biting browns, irons in fire, and smoked-drenched hooded cloaks. 

Bitter Rose, Broken Spear will not appeal to everyone, but for those unique individuals who dream of castle ruins, moss-covered gravestones and A' Ghàidhealtachd, this soul-stirring creation is for you. 

Isle Ryder

Described as a tribute "to the Blessed Isles, past the Manx seaman’s myst and thundering valour, past Balor’s blackened bulrush, the Summer Raider in ashwood shyp, his northern woods, saps, cones, honeyed mead, wax, golden gorse, meadowsweet, to inner loch, of inner isle, always ryding west."

I get more jasmine than thundering valour, but nevertheless, Isle Ryder is a beautiful, accessible floral which could comfortably be worn to a garden party, romantic dinner or a walk past Balor's blackened whatever-it-is. Chilly fir notes strengthen the base and add a decayed-foliage earthiness surrounded by whitewood. Utterly feminine, Isle Ryder is a sweet, sensual and inescapably gorgeous love potion.  

 

Brig O'Teith, Scotland by Francis Jamieson

Pale Grey Mountain, Small Black Lake

Perhaps my favorite of the line, Pale Grey Mountain, Small Black Lake is described as "a chilling air of wood, water, stone, and shrubs that grow on a mythic mountain in Armagh." To me, this scent is painted in sunny hues of orange and gold rather than pale grey and silver. It does, however, transcend into a chilly, but never gloomy, gust of wind through bramble and heather. The chilly gust never burns out the golden-hue, as the center of the perfume remains warm and inviting like a lighthouse in the sea mist. 

The HYLNDS collection, now available at Barney's New York, never quite rises to fulfill its tagline of being an "aromatic epic." It does, however, succeed in being a faithful, heartfelt poem written in an ancient language, a tribute to the landscapes of the heart and home. 

–Michael Devine, Senior Contributor