Top Notes 
Green bitter orange
Wild orange
Murcott mandarin
Pink pepper
Nutmeg
Heart Notes 
Moroccan Rosa centifolia
Bulgarian damask rose
Carnation
Osmanthus
Tunisian orange blossom
Egyptian jasmine
Base Notes 
French beeswax absolute
Indian sandalwood
Virginia cedar
Ambrette
Vanilla absolute
05/23/2025
ClaireV
731 Reviews
ClaireV
1
Like lemon in a cut
I think it was Pia Long who wrote an article on Basenotes about IFRA and referenced the fact that spillage of a barrel of sweet orange oil on the highway would be a public hazard the likes of which you'd never suspect from a sweet, innocent essential oil we're all used to picking up from the health food store. Though she was making the point that some naturals are far more dangerous to human health than synthetic aromachemicals like, say, Ambroxan or Norlimbanol, I was honestly more interested in the idea of a citrus oil being wielded like a weapon of mass destruction.
Yet I never met a citrus that could actually fell a human at sixty paces until I started smelling Annette Neuffer's all-natural range of perfumes. Now, I love Neuffer's work: it is poetic, vivid, punchy, and often transportative (no wonder; she is a jazz artist). However, she does love a pungent citrus, does our Annette. Often, with her work, I have to brace myself for impact in the first hour or so, because she uses citrus oils that are extremely sour, hissy, and pugnacious. I am not a complete citrus wuss, I assure you, but there is something so raw and unmannered about citrus notes allowed to go unchecked that both the other notes and the original intent of the perfumer tend to get buried.
And this is particularly the case with Elixir Solaire, which first smells like Cilit Bang and then like the dried up remnants of lime juice or a very astringent grapefruit soda that you spilled on your arm a while back. There are hints now and then of sweet roses, spices, and something even faintly creamy, like sandalwood or magnolia, but their voices are so meek and quiet against that shouty yuzu that I have to strain to hear them. Again, I love Annette Neuffer's work, so I hope that this review is taken in the spirit intended, i.e., as a loving check rather than a mean takedown.
Yet I never met a citrus that could actually fell a human at sixty paces until I started smelling Annette Neuffer's all-natural range of perfumes. Now, I love Neuffer's work: it is poetic, vivid, punchy, and often transportative (no wonder; she is a jazz artist). However, she does love a pungent citrus, does our Annette. Often, with her work, I have to brace myself for impact in the first hour or so, because she uses citrus oils that are extremely sour, hissy, and pugnacious. I am not a complete citrus wuss, I assure you, but there is something so raw and unmannered about citrus notes allowed to go unchecked that both the other notes and the original intent of the perfumer tend to get buried.
And this is particularly the case with Elixir Solaire, which first smells like Cilit Bang and then like the dried up remnants of lime juice or a very astringent grapefruit soda that you spilled on your arm a while back. There are hints now and then of sweet roses, spices, and something even faintly creamy, like sandalwood or magnolia, but their voices are so meek and quiet against that shouty yuzu that I have to strain to hear them. Again, I love Annette Neuffer's work, so I hope that this review is taken in the spirit intended, i.e., as a loving check rather than a mean takedown.
