Deciem is Discontinuing ‘Shop’ Room Spray

Last month, Deciem announced it was shuttering four of their smaller lines: Hylamide, HIF, Skin Chemistry and Abnomaly, to focus on their star skincare brand the Ordinary. This means that their wonderful ‘could win an MMA fight against Diptyque but only costs $23’ room spray, Shop, will be discontinued once they sell off the existing stock. I immediately bought three. As of this writing, it is still available. Maybe the Estée Lauder company will relaunch it as a Le Labo scent? I think it’s just too beautiful to be killed completely so hopefully it will live on under a new name. But for now, get it while you still can.

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In my dreams, an invisible fairy places fresh flowers in every room of my house twice a week. That’s most likely not going to happen, so finding a great room spray seemed like the best alternative.

For the longest time, I would walk into Deciem stores and practically swoon at the smell: elegant, woody, leathery, but still light - like commingled, very expensive men’s colognes. But whenever I asked, the cheery salesperson would always tell me ‘Yeah. It’s something that Brandon created exclusively for the stores. We might start selling it eventually…” This went on for years.

Then, sadly, Deciem founder Brandon Truaxe died suddenly in 2019 and I remember thinking that the room fragrance would never see the light of day. But now Deciem’s new owner, the Estée Lauder companies, have released it under Deciem’s newish Abnomaly brand. It’s called Shop and it is brilliant.

Shop is fancy, like actual perfume and its list of notes reads like the afore-mentioned pricy men’s scents: sequoia and cedar wood, resinous labdanum, musk and patchouli. There’s even ‘Iso E super’ a perfumer favourite ingredient that brings a transparent woody and earthy aspect to a scent- like a forest shot through with light and air and sun.

Angela Tsementzis’ Concrete House in Toronto

The result is a scent that is woody, leathery and resinous, creating the sensation that you’ve entered a deceptively simple and restrained, light-filled modernist house with an enormous picture window overlooking a thickly treed valley. And Shop is only $23 CAN which is a bargain for something of this quality. It could easily go head to head with Aesop or Diptyque’s interior fragrances.

I have been repeatedly spraying my semi-chaotic office in the hopes that I will be inspired to finally wrestle the space under control. The room is untidy, but if you close your eyes, it smells like everything is perfectly arranged on uniform shelves or hidden away in custom walnut built-ins. Such is the power of Shop.

Best Smell of the Week: Deciem ‘Shop’ Room Spray

In my dreams, an invisible fairy places fresh flowers in every room of my house twice a week. That’s most likely not going to happen, so finding a great room spray seemed like the best alternative.

For the longest time, I would walk into Deciem stores and be struck by the smell: elegant, woody, leathery, yet light - like commingled, very expensive men’s colognes. But whenever I asked, the cheery salesperson would always say something like “Brandon created it exclusively for the stores. We might start selling it eventually…” This went on for years.

Sadly, Deciem founder Brandon Truaxe died suddenly in 2019 and after that I assumed the room fragrance would never see the light of day. But now Deciem’s new owner, the Estée Lauder companies, have released it under Deciem’s newish Abnomaly brand. It’s called Shop and it is brilliant.

Shop is fancy, like actual perfume and its list of notes reads like the afore-mentioned pricy men’s scents: sequoia and cedar wood, resinous labdanum, musk and patchouli. There’s even ‘Iso E super’ a perfumer favourite ingredient that brings a transparent woody and earthy aspect to a scent- like a forest shot through with light and air and sun.

Angela Tsementzis’ Concrete House in Toronto

The result is a scent that is woody, leathery and resinous to create the sensation that you’ve entered a deceptively simple and restrained, light-filled modernist house with an enormous picture window overlooking a thickly treed valley. And Shop is only $23 CAN which is a bargain for something of this quality. It could easily go head to head with Aesop or Diptyque’s interior fragrances.

I have been furiously spraying my disorganized office in the hopes that I will be inspired to finally wrestle the space under control. The room is untidy, but if you close your eyes, it smells like everything is perfectly arranged on uniform shelves or hidden away in custom walnut built-ins. Such is the power of Shop.

I Sleep Under a Tablecloth: A Hot Flash True Story

So it has come to this and I now sleep under a linen tablecloth to stay cool at night.  

No one warned me that menopause would be quite so rough. All the older women I knew growing up had lived through World War Two, so they were uncomplaining stoics fond of saying “this too shall pass” and if they ever experienced hot flashes, I never heard about it. Still, a heads-up would have been nice. I would have activitely enjoyed my years of being able to wear cozy sweaters and cashmere wraps, which are off-limits now until god knows when.

My internal thermostat broke spectacularly right before my 52nd birthday, so for the last four years my body temperature is so high every day that I’m in bare ankles and a light coat even in the dead of winter. And every evening it cranks up even higher for a sleep-hampering and mood-destroying game of ‘is it just me, or is it really hot in here?” That’s all thanks to ‘night sweats’ and even typing that phrase makes me want to throw up a little.

I thought that sleeping under an empty duvet cover would work, but that was too hot. One night, wide awake at two a.m., I grabbed a new, white linen tablecloth that was on my bedside chair waiting to be turned into an ad hoc slipcover. If I even stopped to think ‘but that’s a tablecloth,’ it was late and I didn’t care. But it was the right Goldilocks solution - heavy enough that I felt covered by something, but not so heavy as to be oppressive. It was perfect and I was a genius.

This is it, an H&M linen tablecloth that’s two feet narrower than a twin bedsheet, so there’s no extra fabric to bunch up beside you, taking up valuable bed real estate. And if your bedroom is cool enough (admittedly this all falls apart even if the room is slightly warm,) you can actually get a proper night’s sleep, instead of waking fitfully every couple of hours, wondering why the universe hates you so much. 

I even bought a couple extra, because apparently hot flashes last an average of six years (even up to ten, if you’re truly unlucky.) When all this is over, I plan on hosting a big tablecloth bonfire before I return to sleeping under a duvet like a normal person. God, I hope that’s soon.