Commodity activism is hardly new. And while many brands try to exist in the space that functions between art, politics and a shit hot marketing campaign, many fall short with a neutered, de-clawed and placid efforts. Stay unchallenged. Stay safe. Stay smiling. It’s hegemony disguised with a thin gloss of “making a difference.” Thank fuck for Reek.
The women of artisan perfume brand Reek are full and complete – untouched pictures accompanied with their thoughts. They aren’t just a prop to sell perfume. They are warm, wonderful, thinking women. The entire campaign oozes power. And joy. And sex. The women are unapologetic and defiant. Reek women don’t ask for permission to exist. They take up space. They aren’t small and won’t be made so. Everything they’ve ever been taught to hide through shame, and guilt, and god, even good old fashioned internalised misogyny is laid bare. It’s rough and raw and just a little bit punk rock. They’re Damn Rebel Bitches.
The Reek site is full with intimate portraits of women’s stories of strength, vulnerability, ownership and pride. It’s like a camp side trade off with all your best girlfriends. From classic cunt anxiety to subverting the male gaze through contemporary fashion, there is a rich wholeness to everything shared.
I mean, all of this is great and all but is the product actually any good? Fuck yes. On it’s own the perfume is a mix of beautiful contradictions. Sharp, bright blood orange offset with the biting spice of pink peppercorn and the warmth of clary sage and malt. It’s powdery and aromatic and completely and utterly unforgettable.Just like these women and their stories. These Damn Rebel Bitches.