When Darkness Wears Velvet: The Paradox of Crying of Evil

First Impressions

The name promises malevolence, but the opening spray of Crying of Evil tells a more complex story—one of seduction rather than pure darkness. That first burst delivers an unexpected contradiction: crimson berries glistening against a backdrop of shadowy spices, while violet lends an almost Victorian propriety to the composition. Then tuberose emerges, creamy and narcotic, and you realize this isn't evil crying at all. It's beauty draped in black velvet, wearing darkness as a deliberate choice rather than a curse. Within moments, this 2022 release from Stéphane Humbert Lucas establishes itself as a perfume unafraid of contradictions—feminine yet formidable, warm yet somehow untouchable.

The Scent Profile

The architecture of Crying of Evil reveals itself in layers, each more intriguing than the last. Those opening notes—spices mingling with red berries—create an immediate tension between sweet and sharp. The violet adds a powdery softness that might seem demure in another composition, but here it serves as camouflage for the tuberose lurking beneath, white petals tinged with something darker.

As the fragrance settles into its heart, the true character emerges. Leather arrives not as the aggressive, gasoline-tinged variety found in some contemporary fragrances, but as something more refined—think supple gloves rather than motorcycle jackets. This leather wraps itself around a duo of sandalwood and rose, creating a heart accord that's simultaneously masculine in structure and feminine in execution. The rose never shrieks or demands attention; instead, it whispers through the leather like lipstick traces on expensive upholstery.

The base is where Crying of Evil reveals its amber soul—that dominant accord registering at full intensity in its profile. This isn't the clean, laundry-musk amber of department store fare. It's resinous and complex, built on a foundation of olibanum (frankincense) that lends an incense-like quality to the dry down. Patchouli adds depth and a subtle earthiness, while musk provides an animalic undertone that explains why this accord registers at 65% in the fragrance's DNA. The amber here is warm, enveloping, and unapologetically opulent—the kind that makes you understand why ancient civilizations valued these materials as highly as gold.

Character & Occasion

This is a cold-weather perfume through and through, and the community consensus confirms it emphatically. Winter wears it at full intensity, while fall claims it at 97%—these are the seasons when Crying of Evil truly comes alive. The minimal spring showing and near-absence in summer make perfect sense; this is too rich, too layered, too intensely warm for heat and humidity.

The day versus night split tells an equally clear story: 88% night versus 38% day. Crying of Evil is for after-dark adventures, candlelit dinners, opera house intermissions, and the kind of evening where you want your presence felt before you've even entered the room. Could you wear it during daylight hours? Certainly, but you'd need the confidence to carry its intensity and the kind of day that calls for bold choices—think important meetings, gallery openings, or deliberately making a statement.

While marketed as feminine, the leather and woody accords at 94% and 83% respectively give this fragrance significant crossover appeal. Anyone who loves rich, complex orientals will find something to admire here, regardless of where they fall on the gender spectrum.

Community Verdict

With 508 votes tallying to a 4.11 out of 5 rating, Crying of Evil has clearly resonated with those who've experienced it. This isn't a niche perfume with a handful of devotees—it's gathered a substantial following and maintained an impressive rating that speaks to its quality and appeal. That it's achieved this recognition within just a year or two of its 2022 release suggests staying power beyond initial novelty.

How It Compares

The comparison to Mortal Skin, another Stéphane Humbert Lucas creation, makes immediate sense—both explore that territory where beauty and darkness intersect. The mention of Tom Ford's Black Orchid as a similar scent provides useful context: like that modern classic, Crying of Evil deals in luxurious darkness and unabashed sensuality. The connection to Nishane's Ani, another amber-forward fragrance with warm spice elements, and Xerjoff's Tony Iommi Monkey Special suggests this occupies space in the high-end niche sector where intensity and complexity are expected rather than exceptional. Yet even among these distinguished companions, Crying of Evil carves its own identity through that particular marriage of leather and amber, spice and flower.

The Bottom Line

Crying of Evil doesn't apologize for its intensity or its darkness. At a time when many fragrances chase mass appeal through safe, office-friendly compositions, Stéphane Humbert Lucas has created something deliberately provocative. The 4.11 rating from over 500 voters suggests this boldness pays off for those seeking depth and character in their fragrance wardrobe.

This isn't an everyday perfume for most people, nor should it be. It's the scent you reach for when you want to feel powerful, sensual, and just a touch dangerous. If you're drawn to rich ambers, love leather fragrances that lean sophisticated rather than aggressive, or find yourself perpetually disappointed by perfumes that promise darkness but deliver something tame, this deserves your attention. Sample first—this is too distinctive to buy blind—but don't be surprised if it claims a permanent place in your cold-weather rotation.