Eau Blanche Brecourt 2011 Eau de Parfum

When sniffing a fragrance, images often arise in the mind. With Eau Blanche, I expect a pure, clean scent due to its name, and I already envision white sheets fluttering in the wind, accompanied by fresh, delicate, powdery, almost neutral fragrance accords.

The color white is also abundantly present, but what I see is a cake. A ‘Pavlova’, named after the Russian ballet dancer Anna Pavlova and invented in her honor in New Zealand (although Australia also claims to have invented this cake. A dispute over a national specialty that continues to this day...). Inspired by her tutu and the delicate weight of the artist, the inventor created a meringue cake filled with cream and fresh fruits.

In my mind, I flip through an old photo album. It’s the late 1920s, the pictures black-and-white, somewhat blurry, and with jagged edges. I see the image of a New Zealand plantation, a white wooden house in a garden with fruit trees. In another picture, two girls in white dresses stand under a jasmine bush, next to a pavilion providing shade.

Upon closer inspection, I discover a set table where the Pavlova sits. It’s hot, and a jug of chilled green tea with lemon slices floats nearby for refreshment.

That is exactly the image! And those are exactly the fragrance notes contained in Eau Blanche. From the top note, the fresh lemon stands out, mixed with the fruits that decoratively crown the Pavlova. Ginger and green tea reach my nose, initially pleasantly green, fresh, and slightly bitter...

Before the two girls can taste the cake, a photo is taken of them. They stand obediently next to the pavilion under the jasmine bush, smoothing their white lace dresses and gazing motionlessly into the camera lens. It takes a while; the exposure time seems eternal. The girls find it hard to stay still, as sweet scents reach their little noses. Sugary meringue and even sweeter cream. The fruits are covered in sweetness.

The longer I look at the picture, the more the details blur. No, they dissolve, making the image emptier and emptier. As if one were developing a photo backwards in the darkroom...

And so it is with the scent. It evaporates before the base note has a chance to bring a certain seriousness to the sweet, delicate, fruity image of a past summer day. What remains is the hint of a whiff, actually just the memory of a whiff. The black bottle is more than misleading. At least it would have proven some durability in white.

Eau Blanche is for elves, for fairy beings that are almost translucent and incomprehensible themselves. For ordinary young women, the scent is too weak. And for me, anyway...

Thanks to Hasi, who gifted me this scent photo!