When Hyun Yeu had her first child, she thought her party days were over forever.
“I had had an extremely happy party youth,” she recalls.
“And, when we became parents, we started a different life.
We worked and there were always things to do at home.
Since I didn't go out partying, I no longer forced myself to be attractive.
It was no longer on the market.
It's not nonsense.
When you're partying, you spend a lot of energy.
It's cardio!
And one day, some time after becoming a father, I realized that I had gained weight and looked ugly.
'It's okay,' I thought.
'I'll go back to the gym when my son is older.'
But he had lost confidence in my appearance.
Until one day I realized that, to my son, I was still a
hunk
.
She was his superhero, a hunk who lifted him up effortlessly.
Plus, my partner still found me attractive.
So I told myself that, in a way, we are all scoundrels in our daily lives.”
From a variation of
hunk
came Amsterdam-based Hunq.
Yeu, born and raised in Korea, had arrived in the Dutch city two decades ago, after spending some time in Australia.
When the pandemic began, the businessman had been unemployed for two years after working for more than a decade as a men's fashion designer and decided to open first a Korean cosmetics store and, later, his own perfume brand.
A model poses for the 001 Gardener perfume campaign by Hunq.Philippe Vogelenzang
The concept that Hunq articulates is an ironic, pop and expansive look at the clichés of masculinity in a sector, that of perfumery, more given to solemnity and poetic intensity than to humor.
His perfumes are inspired by many other virile archetypes: a gardener, a carpenter, a mechanic, a waiter, a boxer.
Hyun says that his intention was to enhance his own body odor.
“I have always been very interested in the smell of people.
For example, when you're on a date, the other person may look amazing, dress great, and be very attractive, but if you approach them and they're not wearing the right perfume, everything comes to a halt.
That's chemistry."
Her fragrances, created by a mysterious prestigious perfumer who prefers to remain in the shadows — “she agreed to design the perfumes during her summer vacation, but she doesn't want to sign them” — evoke encounters with men.
A gardener?
Freshly cut grass.
A waiter?
A kiss in an elevator after a night of partying.
The concepts sound sophisticated and novel, but the key is that they are easy to carry.
“I have been collecting perfumes for years and I love discovering niche fragrances when I am in the store, but when I get home I realize that they are not easy to wear.
In the end, I use them a couple of times a year,” she explains.
Image of Mechanic, another of HunqPhilippe Vogelenzang's perfumes
Its practical and commercial vocation is complemented by aggressive and unabashed visual communication.
Her models, walking compendiums of testosterone, muscles and strong virility, are portrayed semi-naked, in high definition, in video clips and images that draw on cinema and advertising from past decades and seek an exaggerated sensuality that borders on the
kitsch
of porn. .
“Deep down, big commercial brands do the same thing: ads with naked men who revel in the beauty of their sweaty or underwater bodies.
The difference is that, in these campaigns, the man always ends up in the arms of a woman in the end.
Not in mine.”
The formula seems to work, in every way.
In just three years, Hunq has reached 200 points of sale in 25 countries (in Spain it is sold by Le Secret du Marais, in Madrid, or Maison Parfum, in Alicante).
She assures that her challenge is to reach a broader audience and overcome the reluctance of those who see her as an exaggerated brand.
“It's one of the best things I've done in my life,” he concludes, “not counting my son, of course.”