What Does Long-Lasting Success Smell Like?
A deconstructive analysis of Donald Trump’s fragrances.
An unruly stench has descended upon D.C. It smells like some horrific alchemy of Cheeto dust, bronzer, a Muscovite’s urine, and the persistent sweat above Sean Spicer’s upper lip. But fans of our nation’s 45th President are clamoring to package the scent, to rub it into their clavicles and wrists and wherever else they want to freshen up; for $30, they can. Ultimately, it was those citizens for whom I forsook all dignity and bought Donald Trump’s two namesake colognes, “Success” (by Trump) and “Empire” (also by Trump).
“Success” and “Empire” are but two fragrances in the ever-growing pantheon of celebrity scents, demonstrating how easily and effortlessly fame can be monetized into a lifestyle brand. This process happens to be the conspicuously unconstitutional bread-and-butter of the country’s foremost swindler, who has slapped his name on everything from fraudulent universities to angus beef.
Then there is Christina Aguilera, who has lent her name to a grand total of ten perfumes, with names such as “Red Sin” and “Touch of Seduction.” Paris Hilton has released eight, one of which is called, simply, “Heiress.” There’s also Derek Jeter’s “Driven” and Nicki Minaj’s “Minajesty,” plus David Beckham’s “Intimately Beckham” and Tim McGraw’s “Soul2Soul” and Neil Gaiman’s “Lemon-Scented Sticky Bat.” But, perhaps with the exception of Hiltons, few of these are able to match the prescient and self-referential quality unique to Trump Fragrances, a natural extension of his efforts to promote and exude his own affluence at all times.
According to the Trump Organization’s website, “Success By Trump captures the spirit of the driven man.” The description goes on to explain how the scent’s combination of juniper, geranium, and bamboo leaves gives rise to a “masculine combination of rich vetiver, tonka bean, birchwood and musk,” all ingredients that may be in short supply once oil pipelines have been routed through the nation’s fields and forests. And since I am undoubtedly sure the President consumes nothing but his eponymous steaks and spring water, I was eager to snuff out both “Success” and “Empire” and learn, once and for all, just how I could replicate what’s likely a tremendous and great smell, a real beauty, the best of all Presidential miasma.
But I found that “Success,” like Trump himself, is chintzy and distasteful. It reminded me a lot more of the pervasive smell of Old Spice in a high school locker room than it did the sweet smell of success, and it bears little resemblance to anything one might want to apply to his body. On the other hand, there almost certainly exists a kind of man who would wear the scent, not least because Trump incites in his zealots the sort of wholesale devotion that led them to buy millions of “Make America Great Again” hats.
“Success” is unmistakably Trumpian in a haughty, predatory way, with pungent undercurrents of citrus that grab your olfactory sensory neurons like the President does unconsenting women. It’s also, weirdly, both mannish and infantile, conjuring the smell of a thousand wealthy alter kockers in a card room but also precocious teenage boys on first dates at CPK. The bottle itself looks like a big, rectangular chunk of metal; to the naked eye, one might mistake it for the Chinese steel with which President Trump likes to build his hotels.
Three years after the release of “Success,” Trump unveiled “Empire,” in 2015, “because every man has his own empire to build.” Its packaging resembles the President’s tower in Manhattan, a black box emblazoned with Trump’s golden coat-of-arms, which he was only authorized to use after a four-year trademark battle with Scotland’s heraldic authority.
“Empire” is a bit louder than “Success,” with hints of peppermint and a zesty spice; if the latter denotes Trump’s Keynesian impulses, “Empire” is more of the aristocratic tradition. It seems marketed to a particularly virile type of scion, he of the slicked-back hair and Windsor knot, with wet dreams about money and, of course, imperialist rule. In other words, it’s not unfathomable that someone might buy it, despite its poor ratings from the Environmental Working Group’s Skin Deep Database, which notes that Trump’s fragrances contain ingredients associated with “hormone disruption, skin and lung irritation, organ system changes, and cancer.”
Of course, any deep dive into Trump’s products is indelibly colored by the fractious state of our Republic. As one would expect, the Amazon reviews of the President’s eaux de toilette convey the fierce partisanship that’s come to define the body politic. “Smells like pee,” wrote one reviewer, Lisa, while another said it didn’t last long and gave him a nasty skin rash. “Smells great,” rebutted Rick, who gives “Success” five stars and added that “it makes any SJW near you cry so that makes it much better.” A fourth critic called it “the fragrance of freedom,” heaping praise upon its “combination of liberal tears and the sweat of a panicked illegal alien.” He went on to note that “one whiff will cause Madonna to fellate you, even if you didn’t vote for Crooked.”
Having worn each cologne for exactly a day, I, a “Crooked” voter, was not fellated by Madonna. I also received no compliments, which is saying something, since I usually smell pretty bad. The scent wore off pretty quickly even with three forceful spurts, and when I sought to corroborate my feelings about the colognes with a friend who owns one, he told me he had thrown it out during election season.
Yet, according to the President, his fragrances are the bomb, and a quick look at his Twitter feed shows numerous attempts to promote them. “I hope everyone (especially the haters and losers) goes to Macy’s today and buys some DJT ties, shirts and suits-and SUCCESS Fragrance-love!” he wrote in April of 2013. Another tweet reveals with highly scientific evidence that “Success” is “the best scent.” Yet, soon after, Macy’s discontinued its sale of the fragrances, which prompted a distinctly Trumpian bait-and-switch in July 2015, when he encouraged his followers to boycott the department store.
For those looking to get a taste of success or a whiff of your own empire, both colognes are still sold on the Trump Organization’s website. Of course, this would only line the President’s pocket and help him further make a mockery of the Constitution, so I, a concerned citizen, will be selling two scarcely used bottles of “Empire” and “Success” on Amazon for 99 cents each. You can DM me for details.
Jake Nevins is a freelance writer living in New York City.
