A couple of weeks ago I finally caved and placed an order at The Butters, a small brand that’s been on my radar for a little while now. I snagged myself a jar of The Butters signature lube, which I’ve been dying to try out (turns out I love it, so watch out for that review), the honey & calendula oil scar care balm, a lip balm, and a rollerball of Fuck You Pay Me, which I picked up purely for the name and the fact that it costs seven dollars for ~10ml, which is mindblowingly inexpensive even for indie/home studio perfumers. Fun fact: this blog was nearly about perfume instead of sex toys, but as always, my pussy won out.
Fuck You Pay Me is so sweet it’s almost cloying. I’m thinking about eating a stack of dense, soft pancakes drenched in honey and butter, orange blossoms floating outside the window on an uncomfortably hot day at a gas station slash diner somewhere in Jesus country. There’s lily of the valley in there, but it’s not powdery, not talc-like or dusty, it’s fresh sprigs nestled into a bouquet of white roses and heavy, waxy jasmine. It’s a bowl of overripe fruit, sticky and pulpy, honey with the comb in, the orange blossom note almost creamy and kulfi-like thanks to the shea butter and vanilla. Not sexy like “you wanna fuck me? pity” but sexy like “you’re going to fuck me, but not until I’m done messing with you”.
Longevity’s exceptional, as you’d expect from an oil – I can roll this on at midday and wake up with it the next morning, and the sillage borders on excessive, nuking everything in its wake with a wave of syrupy citrusy vanilla that’s amplified by heat. This hasn’t made it into my regular rotation but it’s something I’ll be keeping for humid summer days – it’s too bright, linear and heavy otherwise, comically unsuitable for Britain’s perma-grey skies. A delicate English country garden cologne this ain’t, and caution should be exercised when applying it: too much and you’re liable to induce headaches everywhere you go.
The problem I’m having recommending this one is entirely my own fault – I think it’s lovely, but I also think that comparisons are important, and I can’t compare it to anything for reference purely because I don’t usually even consider scents like this. I like smoky black tea, slutty alcoholic vanillas, eau de fag end, and dry Catholic cardamom-incense-ginger. Medicinal herbals on especially scalding days. I’m decidedly not a flirty, friendly, straight up sensual florals person, but this nails the 1% of the time that I want to feel that way, all bare cocoa-buttered legs and no underwear and big smiles. The softer jasmine and orange blossom notes in the drydown sort of remind me a fraction of Serge Lutens Fleurs d’Oranger, but not really – this is less refined, miles sweeter and infinitely dirtier.
If you want to smell like an especially filthy summertime fantasy, you can purchase Fuck You Pay Me from The Butters for $7.