Last week I had two very different reactions to two very different product announcements. One was the release of the book Goth: A History, a “historical memoir of the genre of Goth music and culture” by Lol Tolhurst, one of the founding members of quintessential Gothic band The Cure. (Adding this to my wishlist!)

The other was this ad, which reached me first through my Instagram feed and then in a direct message from a friend who asked, “What is this? Some kind of joke?”

I wonder what Lol Tolhurst would think about this perfume launch. He’d probably just chuckle. Me? I’m annoyed, perhaps to an irrational degree. I feel a certain protective attitude towards Goth. Who owns a subculture? Can anyone own a subculture? Probably not. But Goth had been around for less than a decade when I first stepped into its shadowy fringes, and I still take it pretty seriously.

One reason: although it has always revolved around a specific sub-genre of post-punk music, Goth has long encompassed a broader sensibility for many of its adherents. Part of Goth music’s initial appeal for me, as a teen, was the unofficial curriculum that surrounded it: certain films, art historical styles, and books that had directly inspired its sounds, lyrics, and visual identity.

And yes, there was/is a Goth “look.” But before Hot Topic came to the local mall, before anyone ever saw a Marilyn Manson video on MTV or The Crow at a movie theater, before the internet even existed for the general public, Goth style was a different beast.

When my friends and I wanted to put together an outfit in those days, we had to be resourceful. I still have perfect recall of some of those outfits and the efforts I made to assemble them. A black knit skirt I was able to find at Express, a heavy black shirt from the Army-Navy store, and black jazz ankle-boots from Capezio. A black eyelet dress from a thrift store, vintage costume jewelry from a garage sale, and gray Victorian-style boots that my friend Adrienne had painted black for me. Concert t-shirts and black leggings with floral-on-black stretchy miniskirts pulled from the $25 sale basket at the Betsey Johnson boutique.

Hair and makeup followed a similar pattern: AquaNet, black Cover Girl pencil eyeliner, L’Oréal’s darkest maroon lipstick, black Wet and Wild nail polish purchased during the Halloween season, and—a prized possession—a pressed powder compact from the Manic Panic boutique on St. Mark’s Place.

What perfume was I wearing, as a second-wave Goth? Probably something by Ralph Lauren or Crabtree & Evelyn, just because I liked it. “Goth perfume” didn’t exist, as far as I could tell. At least, not for a Gen X teen.

When niche and independent perfumery began to emerge across NYC in the early 2000s, however, I visited the pioneering perfume shop Aedes de Venustas (pictured above) and made trips to midtown department stores and Brooklyn boutiques to sample evocative fragrances like Regina Harris’s haute bohemian perfume oils (stocked only at Barneys!), Les Parfums de Rosine’s Poussière de Rose, CB I Hate Perfume’s Burning Leaves and Violet Empire, Scent by Alexis’s Venus in Furs—and to explore rich, complex classics like Shalimar and Nuit de Noël.

With the possible exception of Alexis, none of these brands would have described themselves as “goth,” but their creations appealed to scent aficionados like me who wanted a nostalgic or mysterious alternative to the Calone-heavy “fresh” perfumes and fruity-sweet Bath & Body Works body sprays of those years. Sometimes, Goth is where you find it.

Is a fragrance ever not Goth? Well, I’d say that launching a self-described “Goth” fragrance during the “spooky season” seems a bit opportunistic, maybe even gimmicky. Does this strategy attract younger customers who reportedly value “authenticity”? I have no idea.

So, if you were looking for a Goth fragrance that didn’t feel like a high-priced joke, what would I recommend?

Here are a few brands that have stood the test of time or have more recently brought their passion and personal histories to creating seductively strange aromas. (I’ve included links in the headings.)

Aroma Santum

First things first: if you want to buy a perfume from a brand with roots in Salem, which is indeed a special place, you can check out Aroma Sanctum. Akuura Kulak, Aroma Sanctum’s founder/owner/perfumer, relocated a few years ago but still offers her Olde Salem Scents collection online. (My favorite is Scarlett Letter.)

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

Black Phoenix have been the leading purveyors of Goth-friendly perfumes and other esoteric scents since 2000 (give or take a year). Collections titled “Bewitching Brews” and “Sin and Salvation,” or inspired by historical authors from H. P. Lovecraft to Lewis Carroll, were much-craved perfume alternatives for many weirdos among the first wave of “early aughts” online shoppers. Their prices have remained remarkably affordable: for less than $20, you can buy a small bottle of Burial perfume oil, “the scent of upturned cemetery loam mingling with floral offerings to the dead.”

LVNEA

Perfumer April Lea describes her brand LVNEA this way: “With a focus on pure plant essences and unexpected aromatic combinations, raw materials from rare natural extractions are sourced from around the world to evoke distant memories and awaken unwritten desires.” My favorites include Frost Flowers and Violet Woods. (I’ve reviewed them on NST.)

Blackbird

Blackbird, a Seattle-based operation that leans more towards the industrial, rough-hewn side of Goth, offers some of the best incense cones I’ve ever used, as well as offbeat perfumes in packaging derived from Russian Suprematist design. (A nice touch.) Try the chilly, moon-themed Triton (see my review on Now Smell This) or, if you dare, the literally black-tinted Death.

ERIS Parfums

ERIS Parfums founder Barbara Herman, working with perfumer Antoine Lie, offers “sexy perfumes for subversives.” Many ERIS fragrances reinterpret classical perfumery themes through a more contemporary lens of gender identity. I’m most partial to Belle de Jour (which I’ve reviewed for Now Smell This), but you might lean towards Green Spell or Night Flower or Scorpio Rising…

Andrea Maack

Yet another example of woman-owned “niche perfumery” with an unconventional slant (literally): artist Andrea Maack’s Iceland-based brand, founded in 2012. Maack’s minimalist, asymmetical black bottles contain fragrances with names like Solstice, Craft, and—wait for it—Coven. Need I say more?

Parfums Quartana

Parfums Quartana’s Les Potions Fatales is a collection of nine unpredictable scents named for deadly and dangerous flowers. Even the fragrances’ names evoke the darkened pages of some centuries-old book of herbal remedies and spells. Mandrake? Wolfsbane? Belladonna? Pick your poison.

Liquides Imaginaires

“Liquides Imaginaires is an ethereal fragrance entity that lives in that imagined space between reality and fantasy; light and dark.” So says Philippe Di Méo, co-founder of Liquides Imaginaires, which offers a range of scents from Blanche Bête (a gentle homage to the unicorn) to Beauté du Diable, as well as a trio of elixirs titled Les Humeurs: Lacrima, Phantasma, and Melancholia.

Serge Lutens

The makeup looks that Serge Lutens created for Shiseido in the 1970s foreshadowed Goth maquillage, and even a glance at photos of Lutens’s Marrakech home or Paris boutique will reveal his taste for the dark and decadent. (“Black is my religion.”) A few of his most Goth-resonant fragrances are De Profundis (“From the Depths”), Vierge de fer (“Iron Maiden”), and La Religieuse.

One final point I’d like to stress: speaking for myself, at least, Goth style was never a costume. From the beginning, it was a visual complement to the poetry I was reading and the music that filled my Walkman headphones; it was a manifestation of a taste formed during my childhood, when I fell in love with my Fisher Price medieval castle and wore out the mechanisms in a pop-up book about a haunted house. It was my armor; it was an adolescent cocoon (one which I’ve never quite shed); it was a flag waved in hope of making contact with like-minded oddballs.

I’m closing with this Crapgenerator2000 meme because, yes, perfume is just perfume, and I do have some sense of humor, and there are certainly larger problems in the world to worry us right now. You’re also free to spend $250 any way you like. I just want to stand up for a few of the true fragrance “freaks” and the brands that have been giving them (us) melancholy pleasure for a long time.