The Rolling Stones Are Now Selling Perfume. As They Say These Days, Let’s Unpack That.
In addition to a sizeable stack of Rolling Stones CDs, LPs and 45 rpm singles, I own several Rolling Stones T-shirts.
I mention this only because I need to establish that I find nothing immoral or unsavory about the idea of rock ’n’ roll merchandise. It’s an unintrusive way to say something to a world full of strangers — like the other night on The Equalizer when Aunt Vi, one of my favorite characters, wore a Sly and the Family Stone T-shirt. A lot of rock ’n’ roll merch is pretty cool.
There will always be times, however, when you stop to double-check what you think you just saw, which brings us to the release by the Rolling Stones of RS №9 Eau De Parfum, subtitle Amber Woody, billed as “the first fragrance from the Rolling Stones.”
Apparently, according to the official preview announcement, RS №9 is more than just parfum. It’s aroma-based biography. Specifically, it is an “homage to the place where it all began. A single spray and you’ll be transported to London’s Soho in 1962 as a group of young men step on stage at the legendary Marquee Club and begin their journey to superstardom. Experience the scent of freedom and opportunity, an olfactory tribute to a time when anything could — and did — happen.”
Intrigued? Want more details? Of course you do. So did I. Happily, the official announcement is here to accommodate both civilians and parfum connoisseurs: “A vibrant burst of indulgent bergamot raises the curtain before bourbon-infused notes of velvet swagger onto centre stage. Mid-notes of warm leather brawl under electric musk as tempting patchouli and sultry oud linger seductively in the shadows, balancing the fragrance’s wild, earthy edge with an enduring sophistication.”
I pretty much don’t understand a word of that, which I strongly suspect was the goal of whoever had incredible fun writing it. But it sure sounds like it will give you a lot of satisfaction.
Anyhow, a 3.4-ounce bottle is priced at $99.99, which is purely academic to any potential buyer, since only 999 numbered bottles were produced and they sold out in about 9.9 seconds.
By my calculation, that means the Stones and their merch arm netted a few pennies under $100,000, a figure certain to be dwarfed by what the resellers make from it on what’s euphemistically called the secondary market.
Ironically, Mick Jagger has always defended the Stones’s extensive and sophisticated merchandising by explaining that since someone is going to make money off rock ’n’ roll bands, who deserves it more than the band itself?
That seems inarguable, though the assertion gets murky when it comes to concert tickets. Bruce Springsteen faced a near-rebellion not long ago when his ticket prices spiked sharply even though they were still not even close to what the scalpers, oops, excuse me, the secondary market, was charging.
In any case, what stopped me in this case wasn’t the price, but the product. Parfum?
It’s not that the Stones haven’t previously sold merch that seems only tangentially connected to rock ’n’ roll music. Among the many items available from the Stones’s official store is a needlepoint dog collar, priced at $75 (and still available). I suppose the musical connection there could be to “Under My Thumb,” where Mick describes a young lady as a “squirming dog who’s just had her day.” Or not.
The truth is, if you can’t always get what you want from the Stones store, you’re not trying. You can get a Stones umbrella ($55). You can get a Stones snow globe ($58). And of course you can get enough t-shirts, hoodies and clothing paraphernalia so you never again have to go a single day without a big red tongue on your outerwear.
As Jagger has pointed out, the Stones were among the pioneers in upgrading rock ’n’ roll merchandise from the tacky albeit charming knick-knacks that were licensed (or not licensed) to cash in on Elvis or the Beatles to the multimillion-dollar corporate machine of today. The first time I saw the Stones — New Haven, October 1965, current chart hit “Get Off Of My Cloud” — I don’t even remember a stand selling T-shirts.
That was another world. But even in the new world, RS №9 stands out, and it’s not because the Stones are peddling parfum. It’s the claim that this parfum evokes a London music club in 1962.
As my friend Barry Werner mused, “Who wants to smell like a club?”
I wasn’t in the Marquee Club. I have a strong suspicion it is legendary because of who played there, not because of its aroma. I have an even stronger suspicion, based on my own visits three or four years later to music clubs in the Colonies, that the dominant aroma in the room was smoke. Mostly tobacco.
It’s easy and legitimate to romanticize the music that was made in those places, from Liverpool’s Cavern to the Village Gate, Folk City, Small’s Paradise and the jazz clubs of 52nd Street in New York. Romanticizing the rest of the club scene usually requires a few tweaks to history.
Or maybe RS №9 really does have a music connection. Maybe it’s a subtle homage to “Take a Whiff On Me,” a song recorded over the years by old-time blues singers the Stones revered, like the Memphis Jug Band and Leadbelly.
The original song was about cocaine, not parfum. Thing is, parfum is not only legal, but, in the hands of the right marketers, almost as profitable.
(Footnote: The Rolling Stones T-shirts I own came from the Archive of Contemporary Music, a wonderful non-profit with the ambitious mission of collecting, preserving and making available everything recorded since World War II. Keith Richards is a major donor and supporter, serving on the board of advisors, and periodically the Stones give surplus t-shirts to the Archive. I mention this to note where some of the Stones’s money goes.)
