An interview with Barbara Herman and a review of her line of fiercely intelligent fragrances
In an industry increasingly dominated by polished sameness, ERIS PARFUMS has staked its claim on something much rarer: olfactory subversion. Founded in 2016 by Barbara Herman, ERIS is not simply a niche brand. It is a scent-driven study in cultural history, gender, nostalgia, and provocation, channeled through a compact and highly curated line of fragrances that refuse to blend in. The name itself, a nod to the Greek goddess of discord, sets the tone.
Herman first gained attention for her blog yesterdaysperfume.com (2008–2013), where she wrote passionately and analytically about vintage perfumes at a time when the online fragrance community was just beginning to coalesce. That work culminated in her book Scent and Subversion: Decoding a Century of Provocative Perfume (Lyons Press, 2013), now considered essential reading for anyone interested in the socio-political undercurrents of perfume history. What followed was the creation of ERIS, a brand that continues where her writing left off: drawing connections between scent, seduction, and subtext.
Each ERIS perfume is created in collaboration with master perfumer Antoine Lie, whose independent practice has allowed him to embrace the same daring sensibility Herman brings to her concepts. Together, they’ve built a line that reclaims once-maligned ingredients like galbanum and animalic accords, while layering them with literary and cinematic references that reveal Herman’s background in cultural criticism. But the scents do not rely on storytelling to make their impact. They speak directly to skin and memory.
In this conversation, Barbara Herman reflects on her process, her partnership with Antoine Lie, and what it means to build a brand that resists easy categorization.
Q&A with Barbara Herman
You’ve described ERIS as a celebration of subversive glamour and unconventional beauty. That idea has stayed consistent since 2016. How do you maintain creative identity without becoming creatively rigid?
I’ve always liked unconventional and subversive things, books, movies, music, art, fashion, and of course, perfume. It’s my natural disposition, so the ideas for perfumes and their names and stories are coming from that default, left-of-center place. At this point, it might be subversive for ERIS to create a straight-forward floral.
You entered perfumery through cultural criticism, not traditional channels. Has that outsider lens helped or complicated your business decisions?
When I started collecting perfume, mostly vintage, in 2008, I was actually interested in the perfumes aesthetically (only) at first: Does this smell good or interesting? Do I like it? If not, why? When I began researching perfume history, ingredients, advertising, the cultural aspects of perfume became part of the interest. That was inevitable, because perfume is a cultural product that reflects the world around it. So having a brand and joining perfume culture’s conversation doesn’t feel like it complicates business decisions. Maybe it just means I’m more self-conscious about being a part of something I used to analyze from the outside.
From animalics to galbanum to guava, ERIS consistently chooses notes others avoid. What tells you a forgotten material or structure is ready to be reimagined?
For the first collection, La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast), animalics were a no-brainer. That collection connected one of my obsessions that prompted me to write Scent and Subversion in the first place with this new brand, ERIS. So it seemed like a good place to start.
For everything else, it’s not a very conscious or long-drawn-out thought process. I have a Google doc with perfume names and ideas, and I’ll just suddenly get an itching to smell something I think should be in the ERIS line. It definitely helps that I sniffed my way through the 20th century and have that kind of library reference of ingredients and perfumes in my mind. It’s like when you are a chef or a home cook. If you cook a lot and have a lot of ingredients at hand, deciding what to make next is just intuitive and sometimes even spontaneous. It’s what you feel excited about or crave.
Is ERIS a brand with a fixed voice or a vessel for continuous olfactive exploration? Do you approach each launch as evolution or disruption?
I fell in love with the untold, unanalyzed subversive stories of 20th century perfumes and their ads. Perfume, for me, tells us stories about ourselves. So I like to think of ERIS fragrances as continuing that attempt to say something about us. Sometimes, that “something” is a meta-commentary on perfume’s past, the first collection that attempted to bring back and modernize floral animalics, and reflecting on what our contemporary relationship is to “dirty” or “human” smells in a sanitized, digital, disembodied world. It can be an homage to a cultural moment, Mx. and Mxxx. talking about gender fluidity. Galbanum-forward Green Spell trying both to revive green scents in 2020, but also trying to bring some joy into our dark and scary Covid world with a bewitching, nature-inspired scent filled with life-affirming, mood-lifting greens. Delta of Venus tried to re-funkify fruit accords in perfumes, since “fruity” scents had become so juvenile and unsophisticated. And it wasn’t always that way. So in a way, if ERIS is trying to disrupt or comment on what is, and it will continue to try that, disruption and evolution aren’t opposed.
You’ve worked with one perfumer since the beginning. What does that kind of creative fidelity allow you to do that revolving collaborations can’t?
Antoine Lie and I understand each other. I understand his perfumery, having been a superfan before we worked together, and he knows what I want. Our tastes tend to be aligned. We have a very easy-going way of communicating that started even before ERIS, when I interviewed him for my book Scent and Subversion. Every ERIS fragrance will have a subversive and unconventional take on a fragrance category or cultural story (sometimes both), and it will use some beautiful, high quality naturals, but always with a subversive twist. “Pretty” isn’t enough for either of us. Plus, I know from experience, that “twist” is what makes a scent memorable, addictive, special. There’s a consistent vision, vibe, quality, and execution of that vision that ERIS fans can count on that they might not if I worked with different perfumers.
You were creating bold, unapologetic scents long before the market trended back toward maximalism. Now that intensity is back in style, do you feel affirmed or cautious?
I think maximalism with a purpose, quality, and beauty is always in style. As long as it’s not simply for shock value or to jump on the bandwagon. I think the discerning perfume lover knows and can smell the difference.
Your references span Anaïs Nin, Kenneth Anger, vintage ads, and cinema. For those unfamiliar with these cultural layers, how do you ensure the scent still speaks clearly?
I think ERIS fragrances work whether you get or care to get the references or not. All of those cultural layers, along with the perfume ingredients, help me conceptualize what I want and allow me to communicate it to Antoine. And I think they create a nice giftwrap, or movie poster, for the gift inside those layers, the main attraction: the perfume.
Delta of Venus is such a multi-layered fragrance in and of itself, with layers of grapefruit, funky guava, bracing galbanum, creamy jasmine and sandalwood, that that’s all you need to know. It’s sort of a bonus reel or Director’s Cut with commentary if you find out it’s supposed to be a reinterpretation of the Garden of Eden’s forbidden fruit, or that it’s the name of Anaïs Nin’s book of erotica, which itself refers to the Victorians’ euphemism for lady bits. If you care to dig deeper, it might enhance your experience of the perfume. Or not. It’s up to you.
I recently read a customer review of Scorpio Rising in which she wrote that she loved the fragrance and was prompted to watch the film when she learned it was the name of Kenneth Anger’s avant-garde film. She said it made her love it even more, to understand some of the references and look for them. But she enjoyed the experience of the perfume without knowing any of that. Or that Scorpio Rising, astrologically, is also referring to a sort of a super-charged Scorpio, with its traits of intensity, secrecy, danger, etc., more concentrated, like an extrait.
As niche becomes a visual trend rather than a structural one, how do you make sure ERIS is never mistaken for fake niche?
All of these categories and names and trends are just not interesting to me. If all of the 8,000 new launches a year are from niche brands, then I guess niche has no meaning. The real perfume-lovers will find ERIS. And that’s all I care about.
What part of running ERIS demands the most from you but rarely gets talked about?
Everything. Especially when you are essentially running the entire operation yourself. I wish it weren’t the case, and perhaps it will soon change, but the fun, creative work is about one percent of this business.
How do you define success, both for the brand and for yourself?
Success for ERIS is when there are no material constraints to my being able to truly let the brand grow and shine. When I have a team of experts in place to do what I’m now doing myself. When it reaches the audience that wants it, or doesn’t yet know it wants it. When I’m able to focus on what I’m good at, creative direction, doing events and meeting perfume lovers, and let the experts take care of the rest. And when I can go on a non-work related vacation.
The Fragrances of ERIS PARFUMS
An olfactory dossier from the subversive to the sublime
BELLE DE JOUR
A storm-lit floral drifting toward the sea
Orange flower, jasmine, coriander, and seaweed absolute converge in what might first suggest classic white floral territory, until a strange mineral fog rolls in. The opening may remind some of marker ink or coastal metal, a fleeting weirdness that recedes as the perfume turns toward its true calling: stormy marine elegance. There’s no sun-tan coconut here, no sunscreen or sand. Just minerals, shadows, and oceanic life under pressure. It dries down with musk and incense that feel more siren song than serenity. On certain skin, this reads like a salty foghorn on a cold beach in San Francisco. The sensuality is in the restraint.
NIGHT FLOWER
Leather, tuberose, and smoke under a dark sky
This is not a tuberose that screams. Instead, it whispers from behind a haze of birch tar, suede, and patchouli. The opening hits with a familiar ERIS signature, that sharp marker-like flash, before softening into a quiet, almost resinous glow. A musky vanilla base offers comfort, while the tuberose weaves through it all like smoke from a fire you can’t quite see. One of the line’s most emotionally resonant scents, it smells like memory, like warmth through distance. Depending on your skin, it may even remind you of rain on hot pavement or a velvet coat in an old theatre.
MA BÊTE
A growl beneath a velvet curtain
Animalic, opulent, and polarizing. Ma Bête opens with an unmistakable funk, a sharp, urinal glint softened by neroli and jasmine. The Reddit reviewer’s take was blunt: “Girl… that’s pee.” But that’s only the first act. The drydown is rich, powdery, and deeply nostalgic, evoking 1970s art deco glamour filtered through baroque gold mirrors and perfume-soaked vanity cabinets. It’s the scent of inherited wealth and the dust it gathers. For some, it conjures childhood memories of raiding a grandmother’s perfume stash. For others, it’s a beast best kept in the wild.
MX.
Peppered neutrality, restrained and cerebral
Designed as a genderfluid composition, Mx. opens with a clean rush of nutmeg and pepper. The effect is subtle, cool, and somewhat aloof. It wears like a soft wool suit, well-constructed, confident, but not interested in seduction. It may be too quiet for some, yet its purpose is clear. It isn’t a crowd-pleaser. It’s a statement of presence without performance.
MXXX.
Resinous arson in high couture
This extrait is a spell of blackened incense and warmth that doesn’t move so much as smolder. Inspired by gender fluidity but turned inward, Mxxx. smells like the moment incense sparks, that pure, fleeting burst of smoke before the fire settles. Tinctured ambergris, hyraceum (Pierre d’Afrique), and cacao from Trinidad give it a velvety richness without heaviness. The reviewer described it as “a couture arsonist” and likened it to visiting an occult bookstore where sacred resins linger in the air. This is the kind of scent that pulls memory from the bone.
Produced in collaboration with L’Atelier Français des Matières, using ultrasound extraction techniques and rare, full-spectrum materials, Mxxx. is both refined and primal.
GREEN SPELL
Botanical delirium at full volume
Green Spell is exactly what it promises: a saturated overdose of galbanum, violet leaf, tomato stem, and fig leaf. It begins like crushing a garden between your palms, sharp and juicy, with a tomato-leaf kick that’s both nostalgic and alien. There’s no creamy base, no sweetness to soften the impact. As one reviewer said, “You wanted green, and you got it.” It conjures hikes, gardens, funnel spiders, and long afternoons in sun-drenched solitude. It may read as cleaner or hair spray to some, but for lovers of raw, verdant realism, it’s a revelation.
SCORPIO RISING
A spice-laden blaze with something secret beneath
This extrait opens with an explosion of pepper, cardamom, clove, and cinnamon, then smolders into incense, smoke, and woods. Inspired by both the astrological archetype and Kenneth Anger’s infamous film, Scorpio Rising wears its name like armor. It’s magnetic and commanding, yet hides something vegetal and unsettling beneath its surface, perhaps sage or cypriol, maybe just the scent of danger. One reviewer called it “a familiar men’s scent with something nose-irritating inside,” but even those who found it difficult admitted its presence. It does not ask to be liked. It waits to be understood.
Produced with ingredients from L’Atelier Français des Matières, it pushes extrait concentration into high-voltage territory.
DELTA OF VENUS
Forbidden fruit, made flesh
This is a guava that bites back. Lush, tropical, and unapologetically ripe, Delta of Venus is built around a bespoke guava accord that feels both radiant and slightly fermented. Grapefruit, jasmine, and galbanum add contrast, sharpening the edges and hinting at corruption. Inspired by Anaïs Nin’s erotic stories and the myth of Eden’s exile, the scent wears like sun-warmed skin after forbidden contact. It is one of the line’s most textured compositions, bright, carnal, green, and fully alive. Whether you know the literary references or not, the story is in the fruit.
ERIS PARFUMS is not an easy line. It is challenging, evocative, and at times polarizing. But it is never empty. Barbara Herman and Antoine Lie have built a body of work that rewards those who spend time with it, who listen, read, and smell more than once. These are not perfumes designed for trend cycles or Instagram aesthetics. They are meant to be worn with intent, curiosity, and a tolerance for trouble.
Elevated Classics Classification
Primary Category: Creative Director-Led
Secondary Tags: Independent, Collaborates with Private Lab (L’Atelier Français des Matières), Non-Corporate, Long-Term Perfumer Partnership, Culturally Informed, Narrative-Driven, Cult Niche
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