The last batch of entries that didn't make it to the finals of the 2014 Prix Eau Faux — if you missed it, we've already announced this year's winner, and we've posted the first round of entries and the second (there are too many to post or read all at once).

Queensbury Rules (submitted by dilana)

Queensberry’s Rules: a cologne for men to prove their heterosexuality through an air of bad taste. Many fragrances pay tribute to Oscar Wilde, the great playwright, wit, and tastemaker, but only Queensbury Rules, pays tribute to Marquis of Queensbury, the man who engineered Wilde’s arrest.

Queensberry Rule’s evokes the Marquis’ renown as the promoter of the eponymous boxing rules, and as one of Victorian England’s worst husbands. Top notes of cumin and metal capture boxing’s sweat and blood. The middle development is a blend of cheap perfume to represent the adultery the Marquis committed against his first wife; an ozone note to represent the emptiness of his second marriage (annulled after a year), and a tincture of penicillin, to represent Queensberry’s eventual death of syphilis. The base note of burnt peppercorn distills the bitterness at the base of his being.

Queensberry Rules is guaranteed “man repellant” (although women will run from it as well), thereby protecting its wearer from unwanted advances from all but the most nasally congested members of either sex.

sec. by Haus of #ashtag (submitted by Stephanie)

Inhale. Your ujjayi breath compels the world of sec. into your lungs, your pores, your nuclei. Is this a desert's fever dream or is this your truth? Breathe the notes of scorched earth, coconut rind, fallen cacao pods, ayahuasca steam, the aged hands of a kind shaman, and vetiver. Take it in, let your body interpret this experience, transform it. Return this favor to the atmosphere as you exhale.

Our revolutionary Haus collected the essence of sec. in the form of a fine vapor, a dried memory of perfume's past. Available now in mirages of Saks Fifth Avenue in the Sahara Desert.

GENOCIDE OF SENSES EAU DE TOILETTE (submitted by gabdelin)

Have you ever dreamed of walking on the moon with ponies?

Please pass on your way cherie and do never touch this. This scent is lethal poison for your system, explosive dislike in your face. Jacques Beaudrillard calls it a simulacre, and if you don’t have a clue what it does mean, please kindly go to Macy's buy yourself a pretty roll-on from forever21.

GÉNOCIDE OF SENSES is pure controversy in its genes; rebel like a yell, a nymphomaniac live on the superbowl-halftime-show. Jackie-O turned hip-hop, Marilyn Monroe in Sri Lanka.

A spanking opening of gasoline aldéhydes, melt with aromatic Ayahuasca^TM, unfolds into black lavender infused with oil from the Mexican gulf, electrized with Sichuan-pepper, and dried-down with superhypnotic hilarious mushrooms and Oud-wood from the hood.

No flower, no cry, keep calm and smell the art! Swag is becoming guerrilla.

Lose yourself with the essence de toilette, the sense of purpose of your dailydose. Manifesto of the Y.O.L.O., no go-go with the Gaga, freedom is the new cool. No one has its swag.

Get a complementary Xanax for $99 or more of purchase (while Xanax stocks last).
Available exclusively at our Nolita permanent pop-up store.

Rien N'est Tout by Propagande Hive (submitted by julesinrose)

Propagande Hive is a design collective based in cyberspace that merges human intelligence and design science technology, uberpop, downtempo baseyard eurobeat, fromage jazz, argufriend politicking and inarguably the best locavorian veganistically sourced scent ideologues and analogue extraits.

Rien N'est Tout is our first foray in and out of cyberspace. Rien n'est Tout is both real scent and not real scent. Plug in to the Propagande Hive online when you wear it and download the upsourced scent guidealogues. Wear it and become one with us. We are everywhere. We are nowhere. We are Propagande Hive. Viva Rien N'est Tout!

Jalousie Juteux by Le Grand Nez Vert (submitted by julesinrose)

Introducing Jalousie Juteux by Le Grand Nez Vert

Love, fame, and beauty are fleeting. It is envy for what you have and are that last. . . Wear Jalousie Juteux. . when you want the world to fall at your feet. Wear it and have others whisper its name. . .and yours.

Le Grand Nez Vert has been crafting fine fragrance since the reign of the first King Charles. Once a well kept secret, we are now telling the world, in this second decade of the twenty first century, the Scentury to be remembered! Le Grand Nez Vert's Jalousie Juteux will bring the world to us, and to you.

Ripped From the Headlines (submitted by dilana)

The New Ripped From the Headlines perfume house will allow scent lovers to wear their politics on their sleeves (and wrists). Each scent will be a limited release, so you will always be airing what ever is “currently in the air”.

Baring Arms- Declare your love for the Second Amendment; There is nothing concealed in this scent, featuring notes of gun powder, metal and blood orange.

George Washington Bridge: You don’t have to be a political operative to “stop the traffic” with this unisex tribute to automobile exhaust. Notes are a combination of sulfur and carbon dioxide. (Not for sale in New Jersey).

Limousine Liberal: Our floral is, an solifore ode to Lamprocapnos spectabilis (aka Bleeding Heart): red and white floral notes over a base of fine Corinthian leather (the sales tax will hopefully be paid by others)

TOM WAITS: GRAVEL for men  by Greenwith Laboratories (submitted by Lady from Philadelphia)

You may indeed be an old soul, world-weary and disillusioned, but is anyone around you tuning in to your anguish? You've tried the rumpled jacket, the dog-eared book of Bukowsky poems, the finger-combed hair, the intricate recitations of last night's debaucheries, but have they ever really impressed that brunette at the bar, or the guys in the office? Now, with the latest fragrance from Greenwith Labs' Celebrity Inspiration Series--Tom Waits: Gravel--you can wear your tortured sensibilities on your skin, not your sleeve.

The base of this ultra-hip new masculine scent is tobacco, of course, with notes of scuffed leather, oil left unchanged in the fryer too long, and stray dog, balanced by the ineffable Skid Row sillage of a pint of rye leaking from a paper bag. Wearing Tom Waits: Gravel announces to the world that your life, like the voice of your fragrance's namesake, is one magnificent ruin, and lets the people closest to you know that you are tired of living, sexy as hell, and sick of them all . . . Tom Waits: Gravel, for men.

Pibi Anje by Repas à L'école (submitted by julesinrose)

Repas à L'école is a perfume company that marries the modern use of headspace technology and psychology with our team of a renowned nose, Jean Baptiste Dumont and child psychologist Dr. Henri Bendelet. Our scents bring you back with memories so evocative that you may become lost in time.

We know you've tried Le Lait Maternel and Odeur de Lego and fallen in love. Our new release rounds out our collection of quintessential childhood scents. It is. . . Pibi Anje. You know you loved it. Why not wear it? You will be delectable!

Notes include the finest Georgian peanut, New York Concord grape, bleached wheat, and wax paper.

S.W.A.T. by Vraie d’Chalottes (submitted by Ted Midnight)

Ultra-niche indie house Vd’C is not a perfumery, but a coup d’etat (as the creative director, ₯, reminded me whilst presenting the barrel of a grenade launcher to my face). Yes, this is the first perfume you’ll buy not to spray yourself, but other people.

S.W.A.T. comes in styrofoam canisters designed to be lauched out of police-issue grenade lauchers ‘in order to scatter the riotous crowds of the mainstream’, as ₯ eloquently puts it. ‘We mixed every fragance available for purchase in our town, but the result ended up smelling like Viktor & Rolf Antidote, so we decided to create our own formula to avoid any copyright complications.’

The fragrance will be available for purchase exclusively in the Occitania region of France during ‘pop-up protests’, so be sure to catch them before they’re dispersed! Note: only phased-out European currencies are accepted for transactions.

Blech by Dozevilla  (submitted by Ted Midnight)

Whiskey sunset on a balmy Winnebago,
Linen wind from vests betwixt chips potato.

As usual, a short poem is all that precedes every anticipated release from East Coast (Daytona Beach) indie perfumer Shane – the nose behind acclaimed niche perfumery Dozevilla.

 ‘I wanted to create a narrative, foremost,’ says Shane, ‘one of embracing an essential freedom, culminating with the purchase of an RV. It conveys a sense of adventure, of wonder, but also being able to take along the comforts of home, such a corner couch, wherever you go.’

Blech will be available as a small-batch release only. The bottles (sourced locally) are repurposed liquor bottles which were discarded by motorists. The ‘cologniscenti’ on fragrance forums have already snapped up the last few flacons, with one user claiming that ‘a bottle of Blech on Ebay is worth more than shares in Berkshire Hathaway.’

Quadriespace by Metaphysica Perfumes (submitted by Solanace)

“Mainstream brands treat their costumers like dummies”, says Metaphysica Perfumes creator, Paulina Shirogohan, “so I decided to do the opposite.” Quadriespace, the brand's first installment, celebrates the power of perfumery with an olfactory image of visually elusive Einstein’s space-time continuum. At first blast, a flash of bergamot from Calabria cuts though, just as a three dimensional spacial structure starts to expand. This is built out of earthy vetiver from Haiti, icy Tuscan iris and fiery labdanum from Oman, artfully blended so as to evolve like a triad of dancing goddesses. A time-like note, achieved through headspace technology, takes the composition a dimension further beyond traditional perfumery, generating a realistic four dimensional sillage. The ingenious experimental setup developed by the brand's creator for this end was captured in a documentary, “The musky smell of time”, to be launched this year by an independent producer. Metaphysica Perfumes does no comply to IFRA regulations. Available in 100 ml Eau de Parfum, $ 150, and solid perfume in the Minkowski box, $ 65.

Sochi (submitted by mrsdarcy)

Our Great Leader, Vladimir Putin, has ordered given us the honor to announce his new perfume company, L’Air de Putin, and its first release, Sochi.

Commemorating the flawless execution of Mother Russia’s greatest gift to the world since Communism, Sochi brings out the Olympic athlete in you. Top notes of stray dog ice dance with middle notes of eau des toilettes partagées before hurdling you down a luge chute into the murky brown aquatic base notes. Sparks will fly when you wear Sochi, and not just from the exposed electrical wires. Sochi is available for a limited time in a 50ml bottle wrapped in a knit onesie. Sochi has already won a gold medal in next year’s FiFi Awards, and no one is questioning whether it deserves it!

La Rose de Jeunesse (submitted by mrsdarcy)

Les Parfums Quotiediens, a new perfume company founded on the radical idea of revealing the strength and femininity in every woman, presents La Rose de Jeunesse, a debut fragrance challenging your pre-conceived notions of a rose perfume.

Top notes of white musk and peony caress you with the velvet exquisiteness of the rose petal, then middle notes’ thorns of pink pepper stab you with the memory of a lost love before base notes of oud and roots entangle you in seduction. Creator Olivier L’Argent declares, “La Rose de Jeunesse does not smell like your grandmother’s rose!” Olivier L’Argent’s grandmother declares, “I wish it did.” La Rose de Jeunesse is exclusive to our store in Paris, where it is available in 50ml for free ($75), 75ml for a very reasonable price ($100), and a 30ml limited edition bottle featuring a pink ribbon ($500).

Anticipated flanker La Rose de Jeunesse L’Eau: L’Eau de la Rose Mouillée delicately captures the scent of the dew that falls off a solitary rose petal into a sparkling stream (Asian markets only).

Sueur Douce by L'ours Rouge (submitted by Wayne)

The house L’ours Rouge bursts forth onto the scene with a MANdate to enrobe the manliest man with fragrance that shrieks masculinity whilst shattering then masterfully redefining notions of the gender of scent. Our introductory tour de force is SUEUR DOUCE, a soothing and exhilarating whirlwind for the mustachioed Lothario who knows what he wants and takes what he pleases with nary a s’il vous plait nor merci. Top notes of cucumber, basil, and tomato leaf bring to mind the earthy virility of garden toil; in the heart, fall victim to seduction by darkest chocolate, fiery cayenne, and spearmint liqueur, representing the furnaces of passion and romance throbbing and pulsating in the heart of every man; and base notes of black tar, smoke, and peat anchor the fragrance in the deepest essence of man, evoking his labor and invention. Passion, lust, success, wanton abandon - all the thrust and power of all men through the ages distilled to this moment: SUEUR DOUCE. Be ravished!

Vous ne Pouvez Pas Tout Avoir by La Maison du Nez Pompeux (submitted by JolieFleurs)

Because obscenely inflated aspirational pricing wasn't enough to stop our precious parfums being worn by All The Wrong People, La Maison du Nez Pompeux presents.... Vous ne Pouvez Pas Tout Avoir

A fragrance made from ingredients so rare they do not actually exist and essences so refined they are not fit for the likes of you, so we refuse to sell it.

Ruins, Le mie Rovine by Casa Prezzemolo (submitted by donnie)

Casa Prezzemolo announces Ruins, Le mie Rovine, of our Founder, il Miglior Naso, Luca Insalata di Prezzemolo.

The sun, il sole, and blinding blue over the charming antico balcone.
Her painted mouth open, aperta, sensuale, and her simple dress di
cotone strains at her gently heaving costoletta. There's not a thought
in her head, la testa senza pensiero. Shirtless he comes,
senza camicia, suntan and pomade, mouth open, a bocca aperta. A
coupling of desire, il desiderio, at the hot surface, la pelle sudata.
The mouth is window to the soul, la finestra dell'anima. Caress the
void. Whence beauty?

Ruins, Le mie Rovine, di Luca Prezzemolo