About the FRAGRANCE
Widely regarded as a nihilistic masterpiece of modern literature, Bret Easton Ellis’s Less Than Zero defines the Brat Pack scene. Rendered in a neo-noir aesthetic, the film adaptation’s iconic wall of TVs perfectly encapsulates the 1980s excess — everything and nothing, all at once. The fragrance Less Than Zero interprets the immaculate world behind the gates of the young, rich, and untouchable: cream suits, silver metallic Walkmans, and Wayfarer sunglasses—nothing out of place.
It is the scent equivalent of an eternal afternoon by a Bel Air pool and driving too fast down Sunset Boulevard, just to feel anything at all. The result is private, pristine, and slightly unsettling — a scent at once as smooth and delicate as crystal glass.
I’m delighted to present the collaboration 19-69 x Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero eau Fraiche. Fragrance notes include Orris Butter, Rosewood, and Musk.
INGREDIENTS
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FRAGRANCE NOTES
- Lily of the Valley
- Fresh, floral, and green. Delicate white blossoms with a clean, dewy brightness and a soft airy sweetness.
- Orris Butter
- Powdery, soft, and elegant. Smooth iris richness with a cool, velvety floral dryness and a delicate woody nuance.
- Magnolia
- Soft, floral, and fresh. Smooth white petals with a gentle citrusy brightness and a clean, airy softness.
- Patchouli
- Earthy, woody, and slightly damp. Rich and deep, with hints of soil, dried leaves, and soft spice.
- Rosewood
- Soft, woody, and slightly rosy. Smooth warm wood with a gentle floral-woody nuance and a clean, refined finish.
- Musk
- Clean, soft, and warm. Smooth skin-like scent with a gentle powdery sweetness and a subtle airy freshness.
Same scent, different ritual
PAGES 85-86
The Fragrance Journey is an excerpt from the novel Less than Zero (1985) by Bret Easton Ellis.
(...) At the sushi bar in Studio City, Alana doesn’t say much. She keeps looking down at her Diet Coke and lighting cigarettes and after a few drags, putting them out. When I ask her about Blair, she looks at me and says, “Do you really want to know?” and then smiles grimly and says, “You sound like you really care.” I turn away from her, kind of freaked out and talk to this Benjamin guy, who goes to Oakwood. It seems that his BMW was stolen and he goes on about how he finds it really lucky that he found a new BMW 320i in the same off-green his father originally bought him and he tells me, “I mean, I can’t believe I found it. Can you?”
“No. I can’t,” I tell him, glancing over at Alana.
Kim feeds Benjamin a piece of sushi and he takes a sip of sake he got with his fake I.D. and starts to talk about music. “New wave. Power Pop. Primitive Muzak. It’s all bullshit. Rockabilly is where it’s at. And I don’t mean those limp-wristed Stray Cats, I mean real rockabilly. I’m going to New York in April to check the rockabilly scene out. I’m not sure if it’s happening there. It might be happening in Baltimore.”
“Yeah. Baltimore,” I say. “Yeah, I like rockabilly too,” Kim says, wiping her hands. “But I’m still into the Psychedelic Furs and I like that new Human League song.” Benjamin says, “The Human League are out. Over. Finished. You don’t know what’s going on, Kim.” Kim shrugs. I wonder where Dimitri is; if Jess is still holed up with some surfer in Malibu. “No, I mean, you really don’t,” he goes on. “I bet you don’t even read The Face. You’ve got to.” He lights a clove cigarette. “You’ve got to.”
“Why do you have to?” I ask. Benjamin looks at me, runs his fingers over his pompadour and says, “Otherwise you’ll get bored.”