Quentin Akigalawoodovich Bisch

What makes this perfumer so successful

I was in a niche perfume boutique in Sumy when a woman came in and asked for a perfume by “Akigalawoodovich.” I did a double take, while Olena, a friend and the owner of Parfums Francois, calmly reached for a bottle of Amouage Guidance.

The shopper meant Quentin Bisch, of course. The Slavic patronymic added to his name referred to a particular smell of Akigalawood, a captive material by Givaudan. This radiant molecule, which smells of patchouli and pepper, has impressive diffusion and longevity. It has been around at Givaudan for a while, but Quentin made it his trademark. Most of his compositions have it as a backbone, on which he drapes everything else.

That was the moment I realized that Quentin Bisch had crossed a threshold. He had stopped being just a contemporary perfumer and had become something closer to a figure of folklore. I have smelled his perfumes in museums in Paris, buses in Kyiv, and even in dugouts near the front. You might associate Kupyansk with total devastation, but one searing memory I have is a loud trail of Ganymede on a woman evacuated by the Ukrainian army.

For paid subscribers, how do I explain the incredible Quentin Bisch phenomenon.